The first thing she’d prepare was keeping her face from turning red.
---
Tuma Hifadhi ambled out of the small back office and into the room where twelve men sat waiting for him around a large, simple table. He smiled at them, his white teeth gleaming against the backdrop of his gray skin and hair. Years ago he was taller and darker, but age had stooped and faded him. But it hadn’t dimmed him; his bright grin lit up and wrinkled his entire face.
“So sorry to keep you waiting,” he said to the men who were starting to rise from their chairs. He motioned for them to sit back down. “But I just received a most intriguing message. As you know, Edge has a new fort, and now a new captain to go along with it. And he spends his days just staring into the trees. My friends—” he waited for their eager exclaims to die down, “—I believe it’s finally time.”
“Do we start training now?” asked one middle-aged man.
Tuma shook his head. “Not yet. There’s more he has to do before we can be sure. For now, we just watch. As always.”
Chapter 6 ~ “Miss Peto, it’s obvious you have very little experience with men.”
Mahrree had worked herself into a near frenzy of fretting by the evening of the second debate. She fretted she might run into him, although she never went as far as the new fort built a quarter mile away from her home. It was to the northeast, and the school and markets were to the south, so she couldn’t think of a good reason to wander up to the fort, even if she was interested.
She fretted that he might have walked by her house again and she didn’t notice.
And she fretted that she was fretting about nothing.
It was all so ridiculous, and so she fretted about her being ridiculous all the way up until the start of their second debate.
As she walked to the amphitheater she kept checking the color of the sky, just to have something else to think about. It had hints of purple by the time the debate began.
Half an hour later she didn’t have to worry about blushing in his presence again, because the second debate was nothing like the first.
Hogal Densal had decided they should discuss some of the new educational ‘suggestions’ being tried in Idumea. One of the more controversial was holding school all day, instead of just in the mornings for younger children and in the afternoon for older children. Mahrree argued that removing the parents from their daily work and discussion time with their children could weaken their family connections.
But the captain retorted that having such a break from the children could be beneficial to the mental and financial welfare of the parents. Even with families limited to just two children—a law enforced more diligently in the past few decades—parenting was still a great strain. With the children in school all day, both parents could spend more time laboring.
The tension mounted when Mahrree insisted that the Creator had intended for the parents to educate the children, and the captain contended that there was nothing wrong with letting the Administrators be in charge. That’s when it erupted into a shouting match.
“The Writings, which you love to quote,” he simpered, “say everyone has the right to choose for themselves, Miss Peto!”
“But The Writings also say we’re accountable for those choices, Captain! What about innocent children who suffer at the ineptness of their parents’ choices? That’s what we suffered under the kings. Querul the Second and Third held us petrified that someone would say the wrong thing. The Fourth made us all suffer rising foods costs because of his chicken incompetence. Oren was like a neglectful parent who cared for nothing but himself. We suffered under his selfishness, so what evidence do we have our children won’t suffer the same way, if we become just as selfish as Oren?”
“Are you implying that following the Administrators’ suggestions will make us all as useless as King Oren?” he demanded.
She knew her argument was akin to running towards a crevice near the edge of the forest, but she just couldn’t stop herself. “Any parent who thinks of his comfort first will have children that suffer. I don’t believe the Administrators intentionally want parents to neglect their children, but someone should warn them of the possibility. Perhaps some professor at the university—”
“All of the administrators are former university professors, Miss Peto,” the captain said smugly. “And none of them have come to the same conclusions as you. I wonder why that is. Might they know something more than a simple school teacher at the Edge of the world?”
The entire audience—more than one thousand strong that night—sounded a warning of, “Ooooh!”
The captain’s fierce glare wavered for half a moment as Mahrree puffed up her chest in fury. She would not be demeaned, ever. She would be bold.
Just . . . not mention that fact.
“It has been my experience, Captain Shin,” she seethed calmly, “that a collective of men frequently put forth their untested opinions as fact, especially when their egos are in question. Be that collective an army, a government, or a band of boys arguing about who got to the swimming hole first. The results are inevitably an embarrassing display of clenched fists, shouted words, and bloodied noses. And still nothing is resolved to anyone’s satisfaction, thus leaving open yet another opportunity for a collective of men to put forth more useless ideas masquerading as something constructive!”
His eyes were like rock as she spewed her venom, but he didn’t flinch. “Miss Peto, it’s obvious you have very little experience with men.”
Many male villagers were bold enough to chuckle in agreement.
Until Mahrree shot them a look.
“I have enough experience with arrogant, ignorant men who value no one’s opinions but their own,” she boiled. “I’ve been gaining a great deal of experience in the past few days, standing on this platform!”
Several women in the amphitheater giggled nervously, and a few more brave men chorused another round of, “Ooooh!”
Captain Shin remained emotionless, refusing to take her insult. “Miss Peto, you know nothing of the administrators who are endeavoring to lead this world to greater heights—”
“I agree, I don’t,” she cut him off. “I don’t even know if they hold to The Writings, because I’ve never heard any of it quoted in the weekly edicts they send to the villages.”
The captain shrugged. “So what if they don’t? Can’t they make decisions on their own without referring to an old text from an older time?”
“An old text?!” she wailed. “Older time?! It’s for our time! It’s the basis for our village, our families, our lives! If we throw out the guiding principles, what will guide us then?”
“Isn’t that where faith comes in, Miss Peto?” he pounced. “The Writings talk all about faith. So have some faith in the Administrators.”
“Faith means having trust in someone else’s decisions for us,” she declared. “I have faith in the Creator, because I’ve seen how His choices have benefitted my life.”
“You’ve benefitted from the Administrators’ control over food production,” the captain pointed out. “I’ve seen the markets; there’s no lack. I know people here complained as much as anywhere when the management laws were installed, but a year later we see the results.”
“But farmers and ranchers no longer have a say in what they grow or how much they produce!” she gestured wildly. “They might be doing better without the meddling, but we’ll never know now. They’ve lost their freedom!”
He folded his arms. “If losing freedom means a healthier world, then what of it?”
She spluttered and guffawed before she could make her mouth form words. “That’s precisely what happened under the kings! We lost freedom, and lives, and even your precious progress.”
The captain took an aggressive step towards her. “No one has lost their lives under the Administrators, Miss Peto.”
“Not yet!” she proclaimed.
There it was: the first shocked look on his face, but Mahrree was far too furious to
gloat.
“How can I have faith in someone if I can’t trust their decisions, Captain? For that matter, how can I trust any of your choices? What kind of influence will you have in Edge?”
He scoffed. “Who’s to say that the Administrators aren’t making the best choices? Or that I won’t? You just admitted yourself you don’t know anything about them, and you certainly don’t know anything about me. I find that admission remarkable, by the way, since you seem to think you know it all!”
“I know enough!” she shouted back. “I know the army put a fort in our village without our consent. You forced that on us! I know taxes rose last year again, but for what reason? To arm your new fort here that no one asked for? We’re just supposed to trust your decisions? The Army of Idumea’s? Even the Administrators, who we don’t know? To what end? Complete, blind obedience? Willingly accept that the sky is blue, and never question what it might portend when it’s red in the morning, or clouding in the afternoon? Should we never think for ourselves? Just become dumb cowardly animals?!”
He leaned towards her, his left hand clenched into a fist. “Your emotions are clouding your logic, and you’re imagining scenarios that may not lead to each other. You’re too closed-minded to think clearly.”
She firmed her stance. “I’m suggesting only one of many outcomes, but we never know what will happen when we blindly submit to untested leadership, Captain! When Querul the First took the throne, no one then would have suspected that generations later would have suffered from excessive control or be guided by idiots. I’m beginning to believe men simply can’t handle so much power.”
Captain Shin’s mouth dropped open at her boldness. That was twice now. “Are you insinuating that the Administrators are no more trustworthy than the kings?! I must warn you, Miss Peto, you are on very dangerous ground.”
She knew it, but she stood firm even though she teetered on the edge. “What have they done to earn my trust? Kick out King Oren? What happened to him?”
“Died of a broken heart, from finally realizing how he neglected the world!” the captain retorted.
“So we’ve been told. But I’ve always wondered, just how many soldiers did it take to break that small, stupid heart, Captain?”
The captain’s lips parted slightly, aghast at her presumption. Or maybe her insight. That was the third time.
She didn’t care, but continued boldly on. “Then the Administrators took over the city, and then the world. And what’s next? For that matter, what have you done to earn my trust? Come to Edge with your arrogance to tell us we’re closed-minded? Oh, well done!”
“Miss Peto,” he said coolly, “if the Administrators were anything like Querul the Third, you wouldn’t be allowed to say the things you’re saying tonight. You still have the freedom to express your mind, however emotional and illogical it may be, and no one is stopping you.”
“Yet,” she added coldly.
Why am I saying all of this? she wondered frantically, finally realizing just how close she was to disaster. Where is this coming from? As quickly as she could, she tried to backtrack from the crevice.
“Perhaps, Captain, we have nothing to fear from the Administrators, but I fear there may be a great deal to suspect about you.”
She immediately realized that didn’t sound like backtracking, but the words continued to pour unheeded from her mouth. “You have clearly demonstrated your arrogance and contempt for the ‘simple’ people of Edge. And you’re our defense against the Guarders? Ha! I now fear greatly for Edge.”
That’s when Rector Densal jabbed the sides of the two large men sitting next to him. They jumped up and started for the platform.
The captain’s face grew purple. “You fear for Edge—?!” he began as the men jogged the steps to the top of the platform. With big smiles, they stood between him and Mahrree.
It was like throwing water on fighting alley cats. They each stepped back but kept pacing and circling, waiting for an opening between the two large men standing there with fake grins plastered on their faces. The platform suddenly felt very crowded.
Mr. Metz, the personal assistant to Rector Densal and a large fellow, held up his hands and said in an excessively cheerful voice, “What wonderful words for us to consider! We thank Miss Peto and Captain Shin and invite everyone to stretch a moment before the musicians take to the stage.”
Captain Shin was obviously not finished with her, but Mahrree wanted nothing more to do with him. To so easily dismiss The Writings showed his true nature, and it was ugly.
That had done it for her.
She didn’t care about his accusing her of being a know-it-all—she’d heard that a dozen times before. But The Writings? Maybe he’d read them once or twice, as he claimed at the first debate, but he obviously cared nothing for the words of the Creator or the guides, which explained his ready devotion to the Administrators.
No matter how pleasant he appeared, his soul was grossly disfigured.
She stormed down the back stairs to her favorite tree, gave it a swift kick that she immediately regretted, and marched, or rather limped, back and forth trying to regain her composure. She considered soaking her throbbing foot it the warm spring, but couldn’t imagine sitting long enough to do so.
She’d wanted to like him. She was afraid that some part of her already did, but she needed solid reasons for feeling anything for him. But now there was nothing worth liking in him.
She was also alarmed by her growing antagonism towards the Administrators. Where had that come from?! Her father? Maybe his warning that the world was out to get her was his way of telling her a storm was approaching, but she didn’t realize she’d be the storm!
She’d never heard anyone before say anything against the Administrators, and now she stood spouting accusations which she realized, judging by the response of the captain, just may have been accurate. And, she realized with further worry, had the possibility of reaching the ears of the Administrator of Loyalty. She’d never heard of anyone in the remote northern villages ever catching his attention, but rumors abounded about his Querul-the-Third-tendencies down in Idumea. None of those rumors ever said Gadiman accomplished anything more beyond giving someone a threatening glare before another administrator pulled him away. He was their token guard dog that no one really cared for, but needed to have around anyway, just in case.
Mahrree fretted all over again that she just might come across as the first real threat.
Until she remembered the captain’s words. “ . . . a simple school teacher at the Edge of the world.” Her worries vanished, replaced by livid fury.
A simple teacher, indeed!
Well, she had to admit as the pain in her foot forced her to calm down, she was a teacher. She’d never be fancy, so she was simple. And she was in Edge.
While his words were accurate, his critical tone was meant to cut away all her confidence. But she wouldn’t let it. She may be a simple school teacher, but simple things have a way of rising up in complex ways.
She felt enraged again, a raw emotion so powerful she didn’t know what to do with it. Pacing wasn’t enough. Maybe some trees somewhere needed all the bark peeled off.
She noticed someone standing in the shadows at the end of her pacing area, and he was wearing a blue uniform. Without thinking about the next move, she hobbled over to him.
“Yes?” she asked, barely containing her disdain.
The captain’s face was calm as he smiled, which made her all the more furious.
“Are you hurt?” He nodded at her foot.
“Only temporarily. Old debating injury,” she explained bitterly.
To her surprise he grinned and held up his left hand. “I have one of those too.” He made a fist with it.
It took all of Mahrree’s remaining self-control to not make a match and show him what to do with it. His stomach was temptingly close.
His face sobered and he rubbed his forehead, near the scar above his eyebrow.
“Look, I ju
st want you to know that I feel awful about what happened up there,” he said softly. “I lost my temper and I don’t usually do that. Well, not with women. Something about . . .” His voice trailed off. He pressed his lips together before he tried again. “I just want you to know that your mind is much like mine. This got out of control. I am sorry.”
Mahrree was stunned speechless, which was quite an accomplishment. She didn’t expect any of that, so she had nothing to retort with. Later that evening she came up with a long list of responses, and even wrote them down. But all she could manage right then was a lame, “Thank you.”
“I hope you feel better soon,” he gestured to her foot. “Apparently we’re on again in two nights.”
Mahrree’s eyes flared as he gave her a casual smile, put on his cap, and left quickly.
He’d been right, annoyingly. She had very little experience with men: they mystified her. She’d seen that behavior before in the little boys she taught. They’d have a terrible fight, hit and punch each other, then be friends again five minutes later as if the fight was part of the game.
Granted, the teenage girls were ridiculous too. They would just perceive an injustice and they’d give each other the silent treatment for an entire season.
But nothing was more astonishing than Captain Perrin Shin’s casual smile and perplexing behavior. She had heard once of a man in the village of Moorland who thought he was two different people. He even went by two different names and carried on bizarre conversations that no one could follow.
“That must be it,” Mahrree whispered to the air. “The man is not right in his mind. We are in trouble.” She laughed weakly as she started to hobble for home.
It was better than crying.
---
The new lieutenant, a young man with dark brown hair, light reddish-brown skin, and a slight but muscular build, was disappointed the captain wasn’t there to greet him. He was a bit anxious, and having the High General personally see him off yesterday morning didn’t help ease his apprehension.
The Forest at the Edge of the World Page 10
