“But it’s not what he said!” Relf bellowed.
Perrin closed his eyes in exasperation. With his eyes, yes. But not with his mouth . . .
“No,” he finally admitted.
The men sat in frustrated silence until Perrin finally broke it. “So I need to fix this, but I can’t go back into the forests? No one’s safe—that much is clear. Not the world, not Edge, not my family—”
“I know that,” Relf said, now also more composed. “And I have a proposition. The fort at Pools needs a new major. You’d be third in command, but very soon you could be second—”
“Pools?! So close to Idumea?”
Relf smiled partway. “Your mother would love to have you and your family so close by.”
Perrin shook his head. “It’s so crowded! And Hycymum—”
“Bring her along,” Relf said. “She’d love it and you know it.”
Perrin kept shaking his head. “But Mahrree wouldn’t, and I certainly wouldn’t! You know how I feel about the city—I want to be as far away as possible from it. I’m staying in Edge, and that’s all there is—”
“So move Mahrree and the children to the fort,” Relf interrupted, “if you’re so worried about their safety. There’s room. You can even take Hycymum. Put them in the guest quarters for now, until you can build a proper house in the compound. Something large, impressive—”
“No, Father. Not the fort! Mahrree would never agree to that—”
“Even to save her children’s lives?!”
“I don’t want my children raised in the fort!”
“Why not? You were!”
To avoid that debate, Perrin sighed. “Father, you’re missing my point. I can’t only secure my family—I need to secure all of Edge. Our house was actually safe during the raid. Even if they killed the soldiers on guard, there’s no way they could have made it into the house—”
“Consider moving to that new housing area they’re building,” Relf cut him off again. “They’ll be putting in an eight foot high block wall around it all, and it will have a gate—”
“Not the house again . . . Look, that housing area is too far from the fort, and you know that. No, Father,” he closed his eyes and groaned. “I can fix this—all of this. If only I could just—”
Relf’s eyes softened. “Perrin, even if Nicko Mal wasn’t in the way, I won’t allow it. Not as High General, but as your father. Son, you were lucky before, maybe even protected, but now? It’s suicide. We don’t even know how many Guarders got away. Considering how many they attacked with, the forests and mountains may be teeming with Guarders, and even if I gave you thousands of soldiers, we may still be outnumbered!” he whispered.
“Now,” he said in a normal tone again, “your family needs you. Edge needs you. So does your mother, and so do . . .” His voice trailed off, but Perrin knew what the end of the sentence would have been.
“So how can I secure Edge from an enemy I can’t even flush out?” he groused.
Relf allowed for one of his rare smiles. “There’s a reason you were made the youngest captain ever, and now one of the youngest majors ever. I have complete faith in you that you’ll solve this problem, without doing anything dangerous that would risk your life, or garner the attention of Nicko Mal, or cause me to lose my position.”
Perrin narrowed his eyes. “He’d really do that? Remove you?”
Relf nodded once. “Promised me I’d be working his mansion’s stables if I gave you permission to go back into the forests. I already asked him. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too. I didn’t realize that Mal had . . .” He sighed in disappointment. His father had been thinking along the same lines. Had Pere Shin ever told his son Relf to go into the forests? Perrin couldn’t help but wonder. Still, Relf was right; Nicko Mal had the power to remove both of them, and then where would the world be?
There was no other option but to work within the system, as flawed as it was.
“I’ll do what I can to make you proud, Father.”
The High General had looked down at his hands and whispered, “I already am, Perrin.”
---
That night as Perrin and Mahrree laid down in bed, they both sighed heavily.
Mahrree chuckled sadly. “I think yours was heavier. So what did he say to you?” She’d been preparing for the worst. For the past three days Perrin had been growling, snapping, and planning. When he came home late that night, he seemed a bit mollified—or maybe it was dismayed—and it was the first time he hugged his children since the burial. High General Shin’s inspection had changed something.
“I’m guessing the same thing she said to you,” Perrin smiled sadly. “What did my mother want us to do?”
“Move away,” Mahrree sighed again.
“To?”
“Idumea. Their house. She said it was large enough, and you could be posted to the garrison,” Mahrree shuddered.
Perrin chuckled. “Well, that’s far more ambitious than what my father suggested. He wants to repost me to Pools, just north of Idumea. Said we could even move your mother with us.”
Mahrree scoffed. “She’d never leave all her friends, and she’d never let us leave without her! So,” she started hesitantly, “what did you tell your father?”
“That I’m not leaving Edge.”
Mahrree rolled over and grabbed his arm to squeeze it. “Thank you!”
He kissed her. “So I’m assuming you told my mother we’re not going either, right?”
“Of course! Um, but I am curious,” she started slowly again, “What did he say about your idea of taking several thousand into the forest? Since you haven’t said anything, I’m assuming that . . .”
Perrin stiffened next to her. “Request denied.”
“Why?”
He grumbled quietly. “Because we don’t know their numbers. They may have far more than we do, and we could be overwhelmed.”
“They may not, too,” she pointed out. “Not that I want you to go back into the forest,” she assured him, “but if there were thousands of you, your chances at success seem rather good. I mean—”
“He’s right,” Perrin whispered in defeat. “I’ve been thinking about it. We have no idea what’s beyond the boulders, how many are hiding up in the mountains. There could be tens of thousands, just waiting to ambush us. Every last one of us could be wiped out. Then the world would be overrun, and then . . .”
Mahrree propped herself up on her arm. “So that’s why we should find out what they’re up to now! It’s completely unjust—their society is having problems, so they’re stealing and killing us to fix their crisis? And we’re letting them? Maybe . . . maybe we could even help them. If we could only uncover the truth, only find one to interrogate and figure out what all of this is about, we could change everything! You’ve told me before, it just takes the right man to go into there and—”
“The rule is,” Perrin interrupted resignedly, “no man is allowed into the forest. Who I am to go against my grandfather’s laws?”
A thought was forming in Mahrree’s mind about her husband, but it was too disgusting to utter. Instead she blinked at him in the dark, but he seemed to be studying the ceiling.
“But you violated that law last year—”
“Prevailing circumstances overruled that law,” he cut her off. “At least in my mind they did.”
Mahrree was stunned by his sudden spate of rationality. “So why not now?”
The previous thought she tried to ignore grew stronger and more repulsive in her mind. She felt her upper lip curling, but fought down the idea that came with it. He was her husband, after all. He was the bravest officer—
At least, he was.
“What went on in that conversation with your father?”
He didn’t respond. He just lay there quietly. Brooding. Spineless.
She hated seeing him like that.
He could do so much more. He’d ventured into that forest twice before and came out successf
ul, knew its secrets and hazards, and with the right amount of men, he could eliminate all threats and even change the world. He only needed the right kick to his conscience.
“Perrin, I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I’ve never known you to be c—”
“Cowardly?!” he snapped.
His tone startled her. He could have burned down the entire forest with his heat.
“Cautious,” she clarified in a frantic back peddle. “I was about to say cautious. That’s never been your style.”
“Well it has to be now!” he said bitterly, and rolled away from her.
Mahrree just stared at him, utterly perplexed and disillusioned.
He wasn’t cautious.
He was c—
Chapter 13 ~ “Are you that
Guarder spy?!”
The next day Joriana hugged her grandchildren, then hugged them again until they giggled and squirmed to be released.
“Oh, I wished we could stay longer.” She sniffed as she stood up and watched her grandchildren toddle off to Peto’s bedroom in search of his squishy ball.
Mahrree put an arm around her mother-in-law. “So do I, Mother Shin. At least this was an unexpected and pleasant visit for unpleasant reasons.”
“You can still come with us. We can have soldiers help you pack up, and you can be moving in by the end of next week—”
Mahrree shook her head. “Mother Shin, we’ve gone over this. You know how Perrin hates Idumea. He’d be miserable, and then so would everyone else. He’ll find a way to make Edge safe. I know it.”
Joriana nodded and hugged her daughter-in-law. “If ever you change your mind . . . Well, Relf and I will stop at the burial grounds on our way out. Make sure they get the head stones placed properly. I’ll give my regards to your father, since Hogal and Tabbit are close neighbors of his now.”
Mahrree smiled. “Thank you. I—” But she stopped when she heard the coach pulling up in front of the house.
The women smiled sadly at each other and hugged again.
“Guess it’s time to go,” Joriana sighed. “Jaytsy! Peto! Say bye-bye to Grandmother! Grandfather will be coming to the door soon.”
The children ran out of the room with their arms in the air for one more hug while Mahrree walked to the front door to open it for her father-in-law who would soon be standing there. He never came in, but would tip his cap to her and his grandchildren, who stared at his shiny medals and large sword, while he called for his wife.
When Mahrree opened the door she saw the soldier acting as footman already picking up Joriana’s bag that was waiting on the front porch, and the High General was coming up the walk, with Perrin right behind him.
Instead of stopping at the door though, the High General paused. Then he walked in to the small gathering room, which shrank even more in relation to his presence. He watched as his grandchildren gave their grandmother one last hug.
Perrin came in behind him and shrugged at Mahrree, unsure of why his father had come into the house.
Relf took off his cap, swallowed, then walked over to his grandchildren.
The toddlers both released their grandmother and stared at him instead.
He never stood a chance against them, their soft round cheeks framing their massive questioning eyes, one set dark brown, the other pale gray.
Abruptly he knelt down and scooped Jaytsy into his left arm and Peto into his right, pulling them close.
Joriana’s eyebrows went up, and Mahrree and Perrin couldn’t even speak.
The children giggled. They didn’t mind his medals at all.
Grandfather Shin kissed each one quickly on the head, squeezed their little bodies, and released them. He stood up, gave them a formal nod, caught Mahrree in a succinct hug, then replaced his cap.
“Come, Joriana,” he cleared his throat of unfamiliar emotions, “Long drive back to Idumea, and we have the burial grounds to stop at first.”
---
Two men sat in the dark office of an unlit building.
“A rousing success, I’d venture to say.” Brisack sifted through stacks of notes in front of him. “The largest amount of men ever coordinated, the most ambitious effort ever staged, three villages completely shocked and dazed, and the rest of the world fully panicked and embracing their forts and commanders! They’re even sending messages of gratitude to the Administrators. Apparently many villages are reporting ‘suspicious activity’ to their commanders, bypassing the magistrates and enforcement officers completely.”
Mal merely shrugged. “Not a complete success . . .”
But Brisack was still smiling. “And another benefit—since so many Guarders were killed, what we have to pay out to the survivors will be even less. Taxes won’t have to go up so high next season after all.”
“Oh, they’ll still go up,” Mal intoned. “Pay for new schools, new levels of educational supervisors, forts for the last villages—”
Brisack looked thoughtful. “But we could probably reduce the tax rate a little—”
“—the improvements of the Administrative offices,” Mal continued, “additional assistants for each administrator—”
Brisack bobbed his head back and forth.
“—funds for improving personal libraries and assistants to run those personal libraries—I’ve included yours in that as well, Doctor.”
The good doctor reluctantly nodded. “I could use an addition to my library. Something of stone, to keep all my original records safe?”
Mal smiled smoothly. “Would need some expensive artisans to construct it . . .”
Brisack kept nodding, slowly. “But it gives men work, doesn’t it?”
“Working in stone like that—it would be a pity to not let a sculptor or two work some embellishments,” Mal suggested. “Would raise taxation maybe only . . . a quarter slip of silver per citizen to make something truly beautiful.”
Brisack’s mouth formed an o as he envisioned a stone sculpted library in his own home. “With all that effort, I should likely make it big enough for both of our collections.”
Mal waved that away. “Nah, I think I’ll just have one made myself. Make it half a slip of silver, then. I’ll send a message to the Administrator of Taxation to adjust the rate increase for ‘miscellaneous building projects.’”
Brisack had the decency to look a bit embarrassed. “It’s only that all my research needs to be protected. It is benefitting the entire world. Once it’s completed,” he added, knowing full well they had never discussed when the project would be ‘complete.’
Mal’s smooth smile continued. “No need to justify anything to me, my good doctor. The world is here to serve us, after all. That we give back to them is simply mutual kindness.”
His companion smiled more readily. “Plus we’ll need the increase in taxes to finish building forts and adding soldiers. You know, when you think about it all, I dare say this was almost too easy!” he chuckled.
Mal did not. “So if it all was so easy, why is he still alive?” His smooth smile vanished, replaced by an indignant scowl. “His wife and children? Even his mother-in-law? I knew this would fail again.”
Brisack held out his hand in amazement. “Look at these numbers! Look at what we accomplished! It’s astounding! Haven’t you whipped enough dogs and horses? Yet all you can do is obsess over one man and his family?”
“What I want to know is, good doctor, why aren’t you?”
“I didn’t warn him, if that’s what you want to know!” Brisack spat. “He did this all on his own.”
Mal eyed him. “You sound almost relieved by that.”
Brisack shrugged briefly.
“You are! You’re happy that our men failed!” Mal sneered.
Brisack held up his hands in surrender. “Not entirely. It’s just that . . . the past few weeks I’ve been thinking that . . . it would have been sad had those young children—”
Mal pulled a face. “Would have been sad! Don’t tell me you were starting to fe
el guilty?” he hissed.
Brisack only looked at his hands.
Mal rolled his eyes. “Why did I choose you? Gadiman would never feel guilty. He’d never let such an infantile tendency cloud his judgment or cause him to feel anything remotely like regret. Man’s greatest weakness! Guilt, regret, feeling bad about behavior,” he simpered and shuddered. “I thought you were beyond such base emotions. This is how humans are worse than animals. It’s a forced condition, you know. Shame about a misdeed. Sorrow for causing offense. A behavior taught to humans that can, and must, be overcome! Ignore it long enough, it dies away as simple as that. I even taught a sense of shame to the dogs I experimented on. Within a season I could condition any ferocious dog into a cowering beast—”
“Reacting to abuse is not the same as feeling regret,” Brisack murmured.
“What was that? Abuse? Ha! Humans abuse themselves. With guilt. With regret. It holds them back, makes them feel as if they owe some duty to others, as if there should be some level of behavior all should aspire to. Well, there isn’t! Look at you. Nothing tragic even happened to those snotty children, and still you’re wasting time to feel guilt for something that didn’t even happen. Pathetic.”
Brisack shook his head. “No one’s forced me to feel guilt. And I don’t feel guilt. I merely would have felt loss at the end of an intriguing study that you insisted on cutting short.”
“You wanted to as well! Said you were getting bored a while ago, remember?”
“Another base human behavior,” Brisack contended. “Animals never feel boredom, and neither should I. I was merely being infantile, as you claimed, by being bored. But now I see how much more can come from studying the Shins. The major still lost his great aunt and her husband. Even the High General was so shaken that he and Mrs. Shin left immediately for Edge.”
Mal scoffed at that. “The High General didn’t care. He was simply reacting to his wife as an obedient dog should. Wasn’t his family, it was hers. Relf has a few other concerns on his mind right now,” he said vaguely.
“So,” Brisack said crisply, “why wasn’t the raid up to your expectations? Were Major Shin’s soldiers really that well trained, or was our leadership in the north that ineffectual?”
Soldier at the Door (Forest at the Edge) Page 32
