Perrin sat back, stunned by the boy’s boldness. “As I said before, Zenos—no, I’ve never considered violating the laws of the land. At least, not that one,” he confessed with a small smile.
Zenos hazarded a small smile too, but it seemed to have a sad undertone. “Understood, sir. I shouldn’t have . . . well, never mind. That’s about all I have for you today.” He made to get up out of the chair, but Perrin was struck by a thought and held up his hand to stop him.
“Zenos, one question: exactly how did the Guarder know the farmer was planting corn? He would have been across the upper canal there. For all he knew the farmer was dropping peas or pumpkin seeds.”
Zenos hesitated. “Too late in the season for peas, and pumpkins aren’t sown in rows.”
“But would the Guarder know that? If we plant corn in rows, might we not plant everything in rows?” Shin pressed. “I’m not exactly a gardener, as you might have guessed, but I do know that seeds are very small and difficult to identify from a distance.”
Zenos looked perplexed for a moment. “Maybe he went out at night and dug up the seeds, just to see what had been planted?”
Shin pondered that, along with the odd look his volunteer tried to conceal. He seemed to be worried that he hadn’t asked the Guarder how he knew what seeds were planted.
“Possibly,” Perrin decided. “You’re dismissed, Zenos. Remember—extra food for our babbling Guarder tomorrow. Let’s see if sweet bread doesn’t loosen his tongue even more.”
Zenos stood up, apparently relieved. “Thank you, sir! Hope I have something promising tomorrow.”
After he left the room, Perrin whistled under his breath. “Six or seven children?” he whispered.
He sat quietly for a minute, lost in thought.
Then he forced himself to shake the traitorous thought out of his head.
---
The second year of Mahrree and Perrin’s marriage had flown by even more quickly than their first. It was a nauseating, exhausting, sweet, gratifying, terrifying, sleepless, fantastic blur.
There were many events and funny things Mahrree had decided she should would write down, but she always forgot until it was in the middle of the night and she was up with someone small, or using the washroom, or was awakened by the churning in her belly or the snoring of her husband, or by an irrational fear, or by a legitimate concern, or simply up because nothing had waken her up and she was worried that nothing was waking her up. That’s when she thought she could record what she wanted to remember, especially those days in the last Raining Season when she and Perrin sat on their bed on the floor in the gathering room and did nothing but watch Jaytsy and tend to his stitches. But even then she kept putting off stepping away from it all just to record it for later.
Before she realized it, it was the 38th Day of Weeding Season again, 321, and the evening of their second wedding anniversary. This year the Shin family was celebrating. Half of the family was asleep; the other half would be soon. The sky was a magnificent combination of swirling deep reds, purples, and blues, but Mahrree was the only one who noticed it.
They were on a blanket in the middle of their now very small yard in a bed of yellow weedy flowers. Their garden had shrunk considerably since the latest addition to the house was completed several weeks ago. Perrin had done most of the work himself after his stitches had healed.
Tonight Jaytsy kept leaving the blanket to practice her new trick of walking. She loved to hoot after the occasional cart and driver that passed.
Five-week-old Peto, born on the 91st and last day of Planting Season, with thick brown hair and pale blue eyes, slept snuggled into his mother.
Mahrree sat next to her husband who lay on the blanket with his eyes closed. He promised he wouldn’t fall asleep but Mahrree knew what his slow deep breathing meant.
They had been talking about the amazing changes that had happened in the past two years, but neither could stay coherent enough to complete a complicated thought. A few moments ago Perrin’s words had dribbled away in a slur of slumber.
If anyone had asked them to debate now, Mahrree concluded, it would have been about whose turn it was to change which child’s soiled cloths. And halfway through the discussion they would have asked each other what they were talking about.
But Mahrree’s mind was quite fully occupied tonight, and she’d spent many weeks—moons, actually—trying to find a way to express all that cluttered her mind. Lack of sleep disorganized her, but also seemed to embolden her.
Tonight, on their second anniversary, she decided it was time to confront Perrin. She couldn’t wait for them to not be tired. She’d be a grandmother by then.
Besides, her husband should be used to ambush situations.
“Perrin?” she said, glancing at the gate to make sure Jaytsy couldn’t escape the yard.
He grunted drowsily.
“Have you ever wondered what it would be like if we could have more than two children?”
That woke him up. She knew it would and she fought down a smile.
“What did you say?” he blurted out as he rolled over to look at her. His eyes were bleary as he tried to focus them. “You birthed Peto barely five weeks ago, and . . . what did you say?”
“I said,” she began, and realizing there was much he wasn’t going to understand this evening, tried a different direction. “I’ve been thinking. About the village. About families. About . . . what if families were allowed to have more than two children? If they could have as many children as, as, as the Creator allowed them? If women didn’t have to take The Drink after the second child?”
Perrin propped himself up on his elbow and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “Oh, that’s what this is about. You’re worried about The Drink. I told you I’ll come with you. Don’t worry—the mixture has improved since our mothers’ time. It’s supposed to be quite painless now. I didn’t realize that was on your mind.”
“No, I wasn’t worried about taking The Drink until now, and I thank you for reminding me about it,” she said grimly. “But actually, I was thinking about something more. We got our two children so quickly, and just as quickly it will be over. Not that I won’t be happy to sleep again, but somehow it doesn’t feel right to me.”
Perrin watched her for a moment, as if trying to work out her direction. “I don’t remember you ever talking this way before.”
“I never dared before,” she admitted, “But now I must. When I was a teacher, parenting a child or two seemed such a great burden. But now that I’m a mother I see what an adventure it is. My view of the whole world has changed in only one short year. But Perrin, why does the adventure have to be so restricted?”
He sat up and eyed her sternly. “For the good of the community! You know that. Do you need a history lesson? I feel like I’ve been giving those a lot lately,” he added in an odd mumble to himself.
“No, I don’t!” she snapped.
“Mahrree,” he said firmly, “you know The Drink’s far better than what the kings used to do to women who kept having babies. Besides,” his tone turned matter-of-fact, “we’ll run out of space if people have too many children, and women’s bodies can’t birth more than two children without permanent damage. The Administrator of Family Life’s studies proved that. Notices were everywhere.”
“Yes,” Mahrree said with a dangerous gleam in her eye, “Dr. Brisack did that, correct? Quite convenient, don’t you think, that a study verifies the very practice they’ve already engaged in for the past fifty years?”
Perrin stared at her, recognizing her debating voice. They fell in love debating each other over two years ago in public, but his expression hinted he knew he wasn’t about to enjoy what was coming. “What is this all about?”
“I find it very difficult to believe that Brisack’s study verifying that women can only safely birth two children was completely unbiased and objective,” she announced.
“Mahrree,” Perrin sighed, “as Administrators go, if we were forced to
have one over for dinner, he’d be my first pick. He’s actually a very decent man.”
“And you could cook that dinner yourself,” she declared. “The very decent Administrator of Family Life is perpetuating a very convenient lie.”
“You’re accusing the Administrators of lying?” His eyebrows rose. “Are you sure you’re not still experiencing the lingering effects of birthing? The Commander of Edge can’t have a wife speaking traitorously,” he said, only half in jest.
Mahrree sighed. She had to tell him everything she was thinking. She was quite confident how he would react, but she couldn’t keep quiet. That was what he loved about her, wasn’t it? Her passion about speaking her mind? Her ability to think of things in new ways? That she cared for no one’s opinion but the Creator’s? That’s what he told her at their wedding two years ago. Tonight it was time to see if it was still true.
Besides . . .
“You’ve admitted yourself that the Administrators aren’t always forthcoming,” she reminded him. “You’ve shown me enough of your father’s messages about the ‘color of the sky.’ And it’s not traitorous talk. It’s just . . . well, have we really evaluated all our options? There must be more places for us to settle! I mean, there’s so much land, yet the Administrators limit us to only this region. Why not go west to where the ruins are? We can build around them. Every report that comes back says they’re poisoned, but I simply can’t believe that. Terryp didn’t go crazy from poison 138 years ago—he went crazy with eagerness! And there are no more people there simply because their time is over. Their Test was finished! They didn’t die because of poisonous ground or air. It doesn’t make sense. If they died, then where are their bodies? Shouldn’t there be some kind of bones or remains?”
Perrin just stared at her, absently running a finger up and down his son’s tiny arm.
Mahrree wasn’t sure what she saw in his eyes. She knew her words were disloyal, but if she couldn’t trust her husband with her thoughts—
She took advantage of his stunned silence and plowed on.
“And the mountains, what’s on the other side? No one’s tried to find out. I’ll admit I’m not sure how to traverse that boulder field—could take a few days, I imagine—and getting up and over the mountains would undoubtedly be difficult, but you told me yourself a few weeks ago that going through the forest wasn’t what you expected, and was actually comforting. What if the boulder field is the same way? And the mountains? We don’t know because we’ve never tried! The only thing in our way is the Guarders! And Perrin, what if you eliminated every last Guarder above Edge? If any survived, maybe they’re gone, or frightened of you. Can’t we try to take advantage of your success?”
Perrin continued to stare, seemingly absorbing only half of what she was saying. His voice was quiet and low when he finally spoke.
“How long have you been thinking about this?”
“Getting to the other side? It’s been building in my mind for a several moons now.”
“That’s a long time to think,” he replied, still with an unreadable expression.
Mahrree felt she was about to burst. “Perrin, tell me honestly: isn’t there any way to work with the remaining Guarders? Any way to get around them?”
“My wife, you are insane,” he whispered, searching her eyes for evidence. “Do you have any idea what you’re suggesting?”
“I do, and I’m not insane. Why do men assume women are unstable when they’re expecting or have just birthed?!” she exclaimed, exasperated. “We shed a few tears, fret for a bit, and you—and Dr. Brisack—” she sneered at his name, “conclude we’re going crazy. Simply because we react differently than men?” She scoffed. “I’d love to see how a man would respond to the dramatic changes in his body if he were expecting. Frankly, I think our sex handles it and recovers remarkably well, and we emerge even more focused and determined!”
“So I see,” he murmured.
She exhaled. “Just . . . humor me for a few minutes. Please? Can we work with the Guarders?”
He twitched. “The ones I encountered in Raining Season weren’t interested in talking. They were interested in you.”
She swallowed at that, the same way she had repeatedly when he finally told her the truth about that night.
“But,” he continued reluctantly, “something new is happening in the trees. If it’s a result of what happened last season or not, I really don’t know. It seems that there’s a lost Guarder. And he does talk. I have a new volunteer named Zenos, who happened upon him quite by accident at the fresh spring, and for the past two weeks they’ve been talking. Since Zenos isn’t in uniform, the Guarder thinks he’s a local boy and he’s become quite eager to see him, especially since Zenos brings him food from the mess hall.”
Mahrree’s eyes grew big with expectation.
Perrin tried to shut it down as soon as he saw it. “But what you’re proposing is . . . is ridiculous! Unheard of!”
Jaytsy plopped down on her father’s legs and began to suck her thumb.
Mahrree sat up taller. “And?! What about the Guarder? What does he say?”
Perrin shook his head. “Nothing really useful. He’s lost and confused, and we think it’s made him rather unstable. He blathers on incoherently. Zenos reports to me what he says, and it’s mostly nonsense. What I can tell you is . . .” He exhaled, obviously not wanting to divulge but likely feeling the need to be honest with her, “Zenos mentioned that the Guarder told him their women have many babies. Even as many as fifteen.”
Mahrree’s mouth dropped open so large Peto’s fist could have fit neatly inside it.
“Fifteen?” She couldn’t even imagine. “That’s . . . that’s far more than I imagined, but I knew it! Yes! I read that report from the Office of Family—I’m sure they didn’t think anyone would take the time, but I did!” her voice was full of spite. “And it said their studies showed women couldn’t safely have more than two before causing permanent damage, but that doesn’t make any sense. Who have they studied to know this?! Oh, but fifteen!” She fixated on the possibility. . .
Perrin noticed. He looked at her suspiciously as he ran his fingers through Jaytsy’s stringy light brown hair. She lay down and used his lap as a pillow. “Why does that interest you so much?”
“Because it’s proof!”
He shook his head, bewildered. “It’s proof of nothing, Mahrree. It’s from a disoriented Guarder who’s not the most reliable source of information. And if it were true, which I doubt, it demonstrates only that they’re uncivilized and cruel, destroying their women’s bodies merely to replenish their population. They give birth to creatures that attack us at night, steal our goods, and threaten our families. That’s why I kill them.”
Mahrree flinched. After a quiet moment she meekly said, “But they still have many children.”
Perrin scoffed. “Because they live in the wilderness, skirmishing among themselves, struggling to survive, watching their mates die, their children starve—”
His descriptions were too much, and yes—she was still feeling some irrational effects of birthing. “Stop it!” Mahrree exclaimed in a loud whisper.
Perrin clamped shut his mouth and analyzed his wife. “What is this all about, Mahrree?”
She couldn’t put it off any longer. Her time was growing short. The date was already set.
“Perrin, what if I don’t take The Drink? What if we have a third baby instead? I don’t believe my body would be maimed or my mind destroyed. If other women can still have fifteen, then I’m sure I could handle a third. I just need to rest first, then—”
Perrin was suddenly right in her face, on all fours straddling her, and glaring with horror and confusion.
Jaytsy lay sprawled on the blanket wondering what happened to her pillow.
“Mahrree Peto Shin, I must inform you that are sounding at this moment like a traitor.” His voice was cold and fierce. “Not my wife. Not my wife!”
Mahrree had expected this response
. He played it out quite as she imagined he would. A part of him—Captain Shin—was loyal to the Administrators, and she knew the captain would rear up as soon as she confessed her idea. But she didn’t burst into tears or shrink away.
Perrin’s eyebrows furrowed in surprise at her lack of it.
She was overly calm, like a crazed person who had been planning a bizarre scheme for seasons.
Which she had.
“Perrin,” she said steadily, “just consider it for a moment. The Writings tell us to bring more into the World, so all can have an opportunity to go through The Test. We should have more children—”
“Why are you saying these things?!” he whispered severely, and looked around to see if anyone was near enough to hear.
“Because our ancestors had many more than two,” she insisted. “And there are others that still have up to fifteen! I’ve done the math—I know I’m right.”
He shook his head.
“Only consider this for a minute, please,” she begged. “The world began with one thousand and the Creator. Then He paired them up to populate the land.”
“Yes,” he said slowly, trying to put his shock in his back pocket for a moment.
“Now, one thousand people means five hundred pairs. If they have an average of 6.5 children in each family—”
“Where did you get that number?” he whispered fiercely.
She was a bit startled by his exclamation, but decided it was a natural reaction to the onslaught she was throwing at him. “It’s just an average, all right? You can say six then, or seven—”
“Still, six?!” he exclaimed hoarsely. “You can barely keep track of Jaytsy while Peto is feeding! How could anyone keep track of six children?”
She would not be deterred. “Couldn’t the older help care for the younger?”
He looked down for a moment. “I suppose,” he conceded, “but how would they know what to do?”
Soldier at the Door (Forest at the Edge) Page 4
