Soldier at the Door (Forest at the Edge)

by Mercer, Trish

  “No Poe today?” Perrin nodded. “That explains why the ceiling was still relatively clean.”

  “That wasn’t Poe’s fault last week!” Mahrree laughed. “That was Shem’s. I’m not taking any more of his ideas.”

  “Just mine?” he grinned.

  “I’m wondering if I should listen to you anymore now. Having the boys act out Terryp’s Large Man Who Holds Up the World? They tried to hold up everything, unsuccessfully.”

  Perrin chuckled. “But they went home happy?”

  “Very!” Mahrree beamed. “And guess what? All of them passed the Department of Instruction exam.”

  “Well done, Mrs. Shin!” Perrin beamed back. “Told you they’d need only half an hour of instruction each day.”

  “And then two hours of destruction?”

  Teeria looked at her former teacher with alarm. “You spend only half an hour tutoring them? I thought they were here for two and a half hours!”

  “They are,” Mahrree said. “But honestly, girls, can you imagine trying to keep ten boys, ages eight to thirteen, seated for two and half hours studying? After all day in school?!”

  Teeria shook her head. “I’m so glad I finished last year.”

  Sareen exhaled a sad giggle. “And I still have to finish this year. I couldn’t imagine sitting around for another two hours after each day.”

  “See? And I heard from one of their teachers that all of them passed a few points higher than the rest of the children.” Mahrree nodded at them triumphantly.

  “You’ll have to start letting in girls then, too,” Teeria warned her.

  “There’s no room!” Mahrree exclaimed. “But maybe someone else will see the need and fill it.”

  “Miss Mahrree,” Teeria started shyly, “Did you say Private Zenos was helping you?” Her normally serious eyes glowed with hope.

  “Yes,” Mahrree said, eyeing the eighteen-year-old. “He comes by once a week to spend the afternoon with the boys. He’s planning next week to send them all on a relay race if the weather is cooperating.”

  “Does he run, too?” Teeria breathed as her face flushed. “Fast?”

  Perrin looked down at his daughter, slowly shook his head, and groaned softly.

  “I’m not sure, Teeria,” Mahrree struggled to keep her face sober. “Perhaps you’ll want to come by earlier that day and watch him.”

  It was her little whimper of amorous anticipation that made Perrin look up at Teeria. The poor girl flushed red, glanced at the captain, turned purple, and headed for the kitchen door.

  “I may have to consider that. I best see to the private—gathering room. Come, Sareen.”

  Sareen squinted after her friend who fled out the door.

  “I pointed him out first,” she muttered as she handed Peto to Mahrree, grabbed a pail and cleaning cloth, and headed out to the eating table.

  Perrin and Mahrree covered their mouths to conceal their snorts, but tears of laughter leaked from their eyes.

  “I better warn Zenos!” Perrin chortled in a whisper.

  “Don’t!” Mahrree giggled. “Let’s see how well he handles an ambush.” She placed Peto on Perrin’s other knee.

  “And how are my little ones?” Perrin asked, kissing each one on the forehead. They leaned into him, bonked their heads against each other instead, and both burst into tears.

  Mahrree smiled in sympathy as Perrin soothed them. “They’re exhausted. They seem to think they have to keep up with the boys. They were dirtier, but the girls already cleaned them up.”

  “So hiring the girls—I’m assuming this means that all the parents agreed to pay you for this After School Care?”

  She nodded. “I was really surprised. I thought they would be more opposed to it, but they seem desperate for someone to take in their sons.”

  “Well, if they do at their homes what they’ve done to this place . . .”

  “There’s enough to pay the girls,” Mahrree said, chopping carrots and potatoes, “Teeria’s saving up to go to the college at Mountseen next year, we can cover our expenses, and still save up for a long sofa.”

  “You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?” Perrin smiled as Jaytsy, thumb in mouth, snuggled into his chest, and Peto tried to kick her off his father’s lap.

  “Except that I’m ready for a nap as soon as dinner’s over,” she murmured wearily, plopping the vegetables into a large pot.

  “Would you want your life any other way?”

  She shook her head. “I think my life is as close to perfect as I could ever have imagined it. Now, if I could just find some time to still read.”

  “You can read when these two,” he held his daughter and son, each in an arm, just out of reach of the other, “go off to Mountseen for college. Until then, I had an idea for the boys.”

  Mahrree bit her lip. “Why does my chest always tighten when your eyes glow like that? Let me have your latest idea for Education, Shin Style.”

  “Catapults!”

  Her eyebrows went up. “Those take a lot of work, times ten.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t make them so big. Something smaller, simpler. You don’t need to throw pumpkins to demonstrate the principle. Only snowballs.”

  Mahrree grinned. “I love it! Just yesterday two mothers told me in the market that they didn’t want their boys throwing snowballs at each other, because they might mess up their outfits.”

  “That’s why you’ve pulled out all my old work shirts, isn’t it? Took some out of the rag bag to protect their precious clothing?”

  “Yes, and now we can allow them to launch snowballs,” she grinned impishly, “and if a snowball happens to hit another boy, they can blame the invention and not the friend. I can’t understand why these parents won’t let their boys act like boys!”

  Perrin’s eyes glowed. “I absolutely love the way your mind works, my darling wife.”

  “That’s because our minds are so much alike,” she winked at him.

  “After dinner I’ll work on that sled and harness for Barker. Then he’ll be able to pull the children up to the fort when you bring your Ten for their tour week after next.”

  Mahrree glanced at the great black beast lying against the back door, a puddle of drool forming on the ground under his mouth. Barker was as tired out as the children, having been one of the many items the boys attempted to pick up for two hours that afternoon. Otherwise, he would have been crowding Perrin’s lap as well.

  “Sure he couldn’t pull all of us?”

  Perrin shrugged. “He could probably pull you.”

  “Right into the river,” Mahrree shivered. “Never mind.”

  “Oh, you can control him,” Perrin said. “He’s slow enough.”

  “In his mind, yes. With his responses to commands, most definitely. But when he sees water? Nope.”

  Perrin chuckled. “Any messages today?” he tried to say casually.

  “Nothing,” she sighed, dropping several pieces of beef into the pot. “I suppose the Department of Instruction is swamped by letters. Can’t read all of them in a timely manner.”

  “Yes,” he said, trying to keep the relief out of his voice, “most likely.”

  “Not as if I’d have time to do my study right now anyway,” she sighed again. “But I really was looking forward to trying.”

  “You’re already doing it, in a way,” he pointed out. “Just keep notes of what you’re doing with the boys, especially when you tutor them in their lessons, then record the results. That they scored higher than the rest of their class already suggests that teaching at home has potential.”

  She shrugged. “But that’s only a small part of what I was hoping to test. To do this right, I really need to—”

  “Not add yet another project,” he said firmly. “Mahrree, it’s enough. And don’t worry about schooling just yet. We have plenty of time still. Jaytsy’s not even two yet.”

  “I know, I know,” she admitted as she stirred the pot. “But recently I realized how qui
ckly time rushes by. Do you realize that in a few weeks it will have been a whole year since you had Gizzada go shopping for a white coat?”

  The long scar on his back itched to remind him. “I see what this is all about,” he said gravely.

  She cocked her head in questioning.

  “You want a white rabbit fur coat, don’t you? A little jealous of how lovely I must have looked?”

  She snorted and laughed. “No, not at all! When I’m feeling down, I imagine you in it quite vividly and I’m cheered up for hours. No, it really is that time’s going by so quickly. Peto pulled himself up today! Well, not for long. But he’s only seven moons old.”

  “I wondered where the new bruise on his forehead came from,” Perrin said, kissing it lightly.

  “Before we know it, Jaytsy will be six years old and trudging off to school. I feel like I’m running out of time.”

  “I sometimes feel it, too,” he confessed. “But more like a sense of change in the air. As if things will be shifting soon, somehow.”

  “Oh, don’t say that,” she cringed. “It’s not the coming of Planting Season already, so what we’re feeling is probably a warning from the Creator.”

  “You know, most people would be grateful to receive warnings from the Creator.”

  Mahrree shrugged guiltily. “I am. It’s just that I worry what it portends.”

  He nodded slowly. “Me, too. We have to make sure that—”

  A crash in the gathering room made both of them wince.

  “I can fix it!” Sareen called in a frantic giggle.

  “I didn’t realize we had anything left to break,” Perrin said, his eyebrows furrowed.

  “Give it a few more weeks,” Mahrree said. “We may be surprised what can still break.”

  After five more weeks, anything else that could possibly break did. Which made their lives much easier, now that they didn’t have to worry about preserving anything intact. Even so, each time Perrin came home he’d warily open the door, bracing himself for just about anything.

  And on the days that Zenos was in charge, that ‘anything’ could be truly nerve-wracking when the cold snows and icy rains of Raining Season forced them all inside. But Teeria always showed up early those days to sit on the stairs and watch with adoring eyes the large, handsome young private who easily held the enthralled attention of all ten boys.

  And at the end of those days, Private Zenos would shyly tip his blue cap at her and Sareen, and say, “Good evening, ladies.” Then he’d rush out the door, much to the girls’ weekly disappointment.

  “Captain Shin,” Teeria bravely approached him one afternoon, “can’t you order him or something?”

  Perrin folded his arms across his chest. “Order who to do what?”

  Teeria gestured to the retreating jacket of Private Zenos, who was out the door in a flash. “Him! To talk or something!”

  “What kind of something are you hoping for?” Perrin asked slyly.

  Teeria turned bright red and mumbled, “Never mind,” as she stormed off to the kitchen to help start dinner.

  One night, Perrin noticed when he arrived home as the boys were leaving, Teeria didn’t even try talking to Shem, but was banging some pots noisily in the kitchen.

  So instead Sareen was giving it a worthy go as Shem gathered the arrows and bows he had brought to introduce the boys to archery. Next week Mahrree would bring them up to the indoor training arena at the fort, and four more soldiers would help Shem supervise the boys’ first attempts at shooting arrows.

  Actually, Perrin realized as he looked around his gathering room, today was their first attempts, if the three arrows lodged in the oak ceiling were any sign.

  “I mean, what’s it like, riding along the forest’s edge, never knowing when someone could pop out at you with a dagger?” Sareen giggled at Zenos who was crouched on the ground putting the arrows back into the quiver. The seventeen year-old hovered over the soldier like an eager bee waiting for Planting Season.

  “Just . . . nothing much,” Zenos said, shrugging. He glanced up and regarded his commander with a combination of relief and dread in his eyes. “Sorry about that, sir,” he gestured to the ceiling.

  Perrin stared at the odd sight of the fletching of an arrow just at his eye level. His gaze followed the shaft that went straight up into a timber.

  “Remarkable that it’s my ceilings that suffer the most when it’s Zenos Day.” He yanked the arrow out, pursed his lips, and looked down at his cringing private.

  “The boys—they get a little over-eager,” Zenos explained anxiously as he took the arrow out of the captain’s hand. “Mrs. Shin stepped out of the room to try to put Peto down for a nap, and since the wind was blowing quite fiercely today . . . I suppose it wasn’t the best idea to bring these in to the house.”

  Perrin winked forgivingly at him. “That’s all right. It’ll look like some more knotholes once I pull them out.”

  “Like the doors, sir? Can hardly tell, can you?” he asked hopefully. If he noticed Sareen so close to his side that she was practically crawling into his uniform, he gave no indication.

  Perrin’s eyebrow arched. “Just how many went into the doors, Zenos?” He looked around.

  Zenos snatched up the two bows on the ground. “I’m on duty in an hour, sir. Best get up to the fort for dinner—”

  “You could stay here!” Sareen offered. “Eat with us!”

  Perrin blinked at that. The girls never stayed to eat. That was probably why Sareen was avoiding his questioning glare.

  “Have to get my sword,” Zenos said without looking at Sareen. “At least I’m wise enough not to wear that down here. Mrs. Shin?” Zenos looked past his ardent admirer and called to the kitchen, “I’ll be leaving now. Again, sorry about the arrows.”

  Mahrree poked her head around the kitchen door. “You know my philosophy: if there’s no bloodshed—well, at least not a lot—then it was another successful day. Thank you, Shem!”

  “Good-bye, ladies,” Zenos said, still not looking directly at Sareen.

  A loud scoffing sound came from Teeria the kitchen, and Sareen gripped Zeno’s arm. “Good-bye, Private. Or may I call you Shem?”

  Perrin held open the door for his private as Zenos’s ears turned pink. Without another word he charged out of the house, and Perrin shut the door behind him before Sareen could follow.

  Sareen smiled in triumph. “I get to call him Shem!” She grinned and set off to tidy the gathering room.

  Perrin shook his head. “I’ve got a lot to learn about teenage girls before Jaytsy becomes one,” he whispered to himself as he made his way over to the eating room table. A folded piece of parchment caught his eye. Before he could pick it up, Mahrree came through the door.

  “Look what finally came!” she beamed as she unfolded it. “Dated three days ago, the 49th Day of Raining Season, and all the way from Idumea!”

  Perrin held his breath as he took the letter from her hands. A moment later he sighed in relief.

  “Isn’t it wonderful? They’re going to consider my proposal! ‘We will look into your issue and respond as we see fit’.”

  He folded the letter again and handed it back to her. “And you’re responding precisely in the manner they want you to: believing they really care. This is form letter number one, Mahrree. I’m sorry. A senior letter skimmer read your message, and a junior letter skimmer filled out this reply. If you look at the style of handwriting for your name, then the body of the response, you’ll see that they don’t match. They have stacks of these letters, waiting for the names to be filled in.”

  “Oh,” was all she quietly said, and Perrin felt a stab of regret for her disappointment. But it was safer this way, it really was.

  It took her only a moment to recover. “I’m going to send another letter,” she decided. “Telling them all about After School Care, and how other villages could benefit by having homes set up for children to have a place to go when their parents are still working.”


  Perrin shrugged. “Maybe you’ll get form letter number two to add to the collection.”

  “Your faith in me is overwhelming,” she said, her voice heavy with discouragement.

  He put his arms around her. “We still have plenty of time. And Mahrree, honestly I feel much safer with your failures than your successes.”

  He didn’t add, because I suspect you may be the most dangerous woman in the world.

  ---

  Barker was waiting that night. He watched the movements along the alley with drooling expectancy until finally the man in the black jacket appeared with the bacon. Barker leapt to his feet and trotted happily to the fence.

  “Well done, well done,” the man whispered, giving Barker the bacons strips. “Tonight, something new,” he said as he scratched the dog’s head. He patted his chest. “Up, up, up.”

  Barker hesitated, remembering how often he received a knee in his chest for jumping up on the captain and his wife.

  Another slice of bacon appeared, held up high by the man.

  There was only one way for Barker to get it. He slowly reared up on his hind legs and reached over the fence, his big front paws landing on the man’s chest.

  “Up, up, up. Well done, well done.”

  ---

  Two men sat in a dark room of an unlit building.

  “Mrs. Shin must have fired this one off the day after she received form letter number one,” Brisack chuckled as he waved the parchment. “Had a taste of ‘success,’ so she wants more?”

  “Perhaps,” Mal tipped his head. “Or maybe she was told by the captain that she didn’t get a personalized response.”

  “Maybe,” Brisack said, reading the letter again. “Or maybe her husband doesn’t even know she’s sending letters.”

  “You think she’s acting secretly?” Mal made a face, obviously never before entertaining the thought.

  “A woman acting behind her husband’s back? What an unusual development!” Brisack barked a laugh.

  Mal’s expression remained unchanged.

  “I know you never married,” Brisack smirked, “but did you ever have a sister?”