The thought made his stomach convulse again, but there was nothing left for the bucket. There were always the two guards stationed before the High General and Mrs. Shin’s guest room, and two additional guards making a wide sweep through the area. That Shem didn’t run into the other two guards as he dashed through the halls was extraordinary. But they’d be back in front of the guest quarters soon.
And then what happened—what he did—would be known. He thrashed wearily to his side, tears of regret slipping out of his eyes. This isn’t what he wanted to do.
Trained to do, yes.
But wanted? Never.
He always believed there were alternatives—no matter the person—that while blood may occasionally be shed, it didn’t have to be wasted. They’d told him that wouldn’t always be the case, that he had to be prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice of ending a life and living with that knowledge. He’d said that he would, but he was lying. But by then he’d already been trained to lie so well that he was sure everyone believed him when he made the vow.
Except that Hifadhi had looked at him in a way that only he could—right into the core of Shem’s being, into his transparent soul.
The surgeon placed a cool wet cloth on Shem’s head. “That will help a little. The rest of it is waiting for it to work its way through your system. If you—”
“SURGEON!” someone in the reception area shouted. “Two injured officers! Long knives!”
The surgeon ran out of the treatment room.
Shem took deep breaths as he heard shouts in the hallway. All he could do now was wait.
It didn’t take long. It seemed to be only seconds, but must have been closer to five minutes. Through the treatment room doors four soldiers hurriedly barged in, carrying in the two limp bodies of the lieutenants.
“On the other side of the room,” the surgeon ordered. “Soldier over there is already nauseated. And bring in more lanterns, so we can actually see something!”
Through the slits of his nearly-shut eyes Shem saw the soldiers set the two officers on bunks on the opposite side of the room. Two more surgeons’ assistants, rubbing sleep out of their eyes, rushed in to start attending to one lieutenant while the surgeon examined the other, and a private hastily brought in extra lanterns in each hand.
“He’s dead,” the surgeon said simply after only a moment of evaluation, not needing extra light to reach that conclusion.
Shem gulped.
High General Shin, who had rapidly dressed, judging by an unfastened button, a few skewed medals on his jacket and his lack of cap, strode into the treatment room.
“Dear Creator!” he breathed as he saw Heth with the long knife protruding from his throat. He looked over to see Lieutenant Xat with the knife coming out of his heart.
The assistants looked at him grimly and shook their heads.
Shem squeezed his eyes shut tight. He’d been trained too well. He tried not to listen anymore, but the general’s voice could’ve probably penetrated even the Dark Deserts of Death.
“Both dead! What happened?” Shem heard the general demand.
“Sir, we’re unsure. We found them on the floor like this,” someone, likely one of his guards, said.
“I think they had a fight,” another guard suggested. “I’ve heard words between them before, sir.”
General Shin paused before he announced, “The only way this could have been the result of a fight was if they stabbed each other at precisely the same time, which is highly unlikely! Did anyone hear anything? Any arguing? Fighting?”
Shem held his breath as someone else said, “We didn’t, but we sent Master Sergeant Neeks to see if anyone heard anything. We’ve also sent for Major Shin, sir, and Captain Karna is searching for witnesses.”
The High General grumbled quietly, and Shem heard what sounded like someone stroking a chin ripe with stubble. “Right outside my door. Neither I nor Mrs. Shin heard anything. Why would they draw their knives—”
A loud disturbance in the reception area halted General Shin’s musing.
“I saw the blood on the floor, and I want to know why!”
Shem peered his eyes open to see Joriana Shin burst through the treatment room door, a dressing gown wrapped around her bed clothes, and her brown hair in a long braid. She stopped when she saw the bloodied bodies of the lieutenants.
“Joriana, I told you to wait in our quarters! Two guards were—”
“—ineffective in keeping me there! Oh Relf, what happened?” she whimpered as her husband put a bracing arm around her. The guards assigned to her had followed her in and looked apologetically at the High General.
“That’s what we’re trying to piece together. No one knows. Except . . .”
Shem shut his eyes again in a vain attempt to control his breathing, so he didn’t notice that the High General had moved until he heard, “Zenos!”
Shem’s entire body flinched. Panicked, he opened his eyes and thought he would retch again as he looked up into the hardened face of the High General looming over him. It was like seeing a gray rock falling slowly at him, and it was furious.
“Sir?” he squeaked.
“How long have you been here?”
“Not long, sir.”
“He came in just before the officers were discovered, General,” the surgeon explained. “Vomited on the floor. I’d stay back a pace or two if I were you. Not sure yet what ails him.”
The High General nodded once. “Came in just before . . . Corporal, did you hear or see or notice anything? Anything unusual, whatsoever?”
Shem’s breathing became rapid. “Sir, all I noticed was the direction of the surgery. I just came off duty and was walking to my barracks when I could feel something was wrong in my belly.”
“How many soldiers came off duty at the same time as you?”
“Twenty, sir.”
The High General clapped his hands. “Twenty potential witnesses! Where are they?” he asked the men behind him.
“Likely drinking, sir,” Shem mumbled. “Usually head over to the tavern until it closes. No one’s coming back for another hour or so.”
Half a dozen soldiers poured into the treatment room in a bit of a daze. One of them looked around, confused. “Captain told us that since we were awake we were supposed to—” He stopped when he saw the dead officers, and the expressions on his companions’ faces turned to mild panic as they took in the sight.
General Shin pointed at them. “To the Command Tower—now! I’ll be questioning you each. There have to be clues somewhere. I find it difficult to believe they killed each other simultaneously!”
“Guarders do, sir,” someone in the group bravely muttered.
In the shocked silence that followed the suggestion, everyone looked to the High General and breathlessly awaited his response. Shem was glad it wasn’t him who mentioned Guarders. Mrs. Shin whimpered briefly before putting a hand in front of her mouth to hold the rest in.
“That’s true,” General Shin said firmly, not in the least bit shaken. “They do. But not like this!” He turned to his wife. “Joriana, go back to our quarters. I’ll send extra guards, but I assure you, you’ll be safe.”
Mrs. Shin nodded anxiously and took the arm of one of the guards, just as Captain Karna came running into the treatment area.
“Can’t find anyone else who would have been in the vicinity.” His eyes bulged as he saw the lieutenants.
Shem closed his eyes and prayed Karna didn’t recognize him. A moment later he heard a cloth-like sound, as if the bodies were being covered by blankets, and then Karna called for the soldiers to follow him to the Command Tower.
After the sounds of soldiers scuffling away ended, a hush seemed to overcome the treatment room, dank and dark as a grave.
Shem trembled on the cot, his head swirling and his stomach still spasming. Across the room lay two bodies, still and forevermore silent.
Did he really do that?
“Well, all’s quiet again.” Shem hea
rd the surgeon’s impassive voice above him, and felt the damp cloth replaced on his head. “Not exactly the most calming atmosphere for someone with a queasy stomach, is it?”
---
It was morning when Shem opened his eyes again. Somehow he’d fallen asleep, likely out of horrified fatigue. But his dreams were plagued with terrible images and sounds that, when he woke up, he realized were actually memories.
The sun wasn’t up yet, but the area was slowly brightening. He looked to the other side of the room and saw that the two bodies had been moved. Maybe that meant they knew their deaths were his fault.
Shem shook his head. That didn’t make any sense at all.
Sometime during the night he came to some conclusions. At least two people were going to die last night, as if some being full of hatred and darkness had decreed it and nothing would prevent the loss of life.
All Shem had done was made sure those less worthy of life were the ones who lost theirs. He didn’t start the chain of events, he merely redirected them to a more fitting end. In a small way, it made him feel a bit better—
No, ‘better’ wasn’t the right word. He’d never be ‘better’ about this. But he did feel absolved.
The treatment room door opened and Major Shin walked in ponderously, his eyes red with exhaustion and his uniform untidy.
“Doing all right, Shem?” he asked amiably. “You were sleeping when I came by earlier to look at—” He gestured to the empty bunks.
Shem pushed himself up to a sitting position. “I’m sure you’re safe. My stomach feels calmer. Any luck finding out what happened last night?” Then he clenched every muscle in expectation.
Major Shin sat down wearily on a bunk next to Shem’s and held his head in his hands. “No, nothing. No evidence, no clues, no witnesses—it’s maddening.”
Shem sighed. He hoped his relief sounded like sympathy.
Perrin rubbed his face. “Doesn’t make any sense. Something else is going on, and I’m afraid we’ll never find out what. I met them only yesterday, but I can’t help but think: what a waste. I remember being a lieutenant,” he said softly, looking out the window where the sunlight was slowly growing. “I had so many plans, so many dreams . . . I looked at their bodies and thought, ‘I wonder what dreams they had that will never come true?’ They spend years working and training for such an opportunity and suddenly . . . it’s all over. Just like that.” He snapped his fingers. “One brief night. So tragic. Makes no sense.”
Shem swallowed hard before saying, “Maybe the Creator knew their dreams, that they weren’t as noble as yours, Major. Maybe it’s better their lives were cut short.”
Perrin turned to him. “What are you getting at?”
“Sir, a couple of soldiers last night suggested that . . . they may have been Guarders.”
Major Shin shook his head quickly. “No. Not at all. Not Guarders. We have records and histories of all officers—”
“That could’ve been forged?”
“No!” Perrin blurted. “That would mean Guarders are working within the army! That can’t be.”
Shem had to let him know. At least get him thinking about it.
“Sir, I know you don’t want it to be, but what we want rarely coincides with what we’re given. And it’s the given we have to deal with. Only consider for a moment: because of all your new measures, their only way into the villages and forts now would be going in as one of us, in disguise. If it were Guarders, maybe this was meant as a message to you, to prove they can still reach you and your family. Your parents seem to have been the target, sir.”
Perrin covered his face again. “I must confess, when we lost Wiles—he was before your time—but when we lost Wiles, just vanished out of a carriage, I had the thought of, ‘What if Guarders were among us, in blue uniforms?’”
Shem cleared his throat gently.
Perrin took his hands off his face to look at his favorite soldier.
Shem shrugged his shoulders in a manner that said, Would it really be so difficult to imagine?
“Oh, Shem,” Perrin sighed wearily, “then none of us have a prayer.”
Shem shook his head. “We always have a prayer, sir. Maybe it was the last two Guarders in the army that killed each other last night, instead of killing your father and mother. Wouldn’t they send their best after the highest officer? Now they’re gone.”
Major Shin seemed to have frozen in place. When he looked at Shem it was with an expression of misery mixed with hope. “Let’s pray that’s true, Shem.”
“Already have been, sir.”
A movement at the door drew Shem’s attention.
“Perrin,” the High General said quietly as his large frame filled the doorway. “Go sit with your mother until Mahrree arrives. She’s not doing very well right now.”
Perrin stood up immediately.
“Yes, sir,” he said to his father. He winked good-bye at Shem and went out the door.
General Shin closed the door behind him, but remained in the surgery treatment area alone with the corporal.
Shem tried to sit in some semblance of attention, realizing that the High General’s presence wasn’t a promising development.
“Sir?”
Slowly, with his boots thudding loudly on the wood floor, General Shin walked over to him.
“Feeling better, Corporal?” The words were friendly, but the impatient tone made it clear this was merely obligatory small talk.
“Yes, sir.” But Shem’s stomach started churning all over again. The High General usually wore a grave expression, but astonishingly his face was even harsher this morning.
General Shin stopped at the foot of his cot and clasped his hands behind his back. “You’re an interesting young man, Shem Zenos,” he said in a low voice. “I’ve yet to figure you out. I’m considering transferring you to the garrison just so I can get you know you better.” He walked down one side of Shem’s cot, keeping his eyes on him.
Shem had to crane his neck awkwardly to meet his hard gaze. He knew enough to realize the angle was intended to cause him pain, which would distract him from his concentration, which would then let the formidable officer see right through him. Shem ignored his discomfort.
“Although I think my favorite major and his wife would be greatly displeased if I did,” General Shin added.
Shem tried to keep his breathing steady as the general turned and slowly paced away. He stopped abruptly at the end of the cot, his dark eyes cold and his face as relenting as stone as he faced Shem again. Major Shin’s glare was nothing compared to his father’s, who had twenty more years to perfect it.
“You seem so innocent, so boyish, so gentle,” General Shin said coolly. “But I’ve known many innocent-looking men who were foxes dressed up in feathers making themselves a nest in the henhouse. I have no evidence of you either way, Shem Zenos.”
Shem couldn’t help but squirm. The way the general said his name made it sound filthy.
“And so I look at you and wonder—are you really as good as my daughter-in-law claims? Or are you like my two lieutenants—biding their time and waiting for the opportune moment? The problem is, Shem Zenos, I have no way of knowing until it may be too late.”
Shem feared he was going to retch again.
The High General squinted as if reading his face. “You know what happened last night. I have no doubt. I can read the layers in men’s eyes, Zenos. In yours I see terror and worry, but underneath those layers I also see a wall of deceit. You’re hiding things, Corporal, but years ago my father put measures in the code of the army that prevents me from using more effective methods of discovering exactly what you’re hiding. Your deceit may be nothing more than the fact you are nowhere near the age of twenty-one that you claim to be. Or your deceit may be that you are nothing at all as you present yourself.”
Shem kept his eyes on the general as he walked back up to his head. It was in moments like these that he was grateful for his training that conditioned him to go r
igid until a threat had passed.
General Shin bent down and picked up off the floor the damp cloth that had been on Shem’s head most of the night. Shem stopped breathing as the general’s hand went for Shem’s throat, but Shem didn’t think he could choke him with only one hand.
But then again, he was the High General.
The general only wiped the cloth under Shem’s chin, then stood back up, examining it.
“Know this, Zenos,” he said, staring at the cloth, “that I know. And when I have more evidence, I’ll be back for you.”
He was about to say something else, but mercifully the treatment door swung open again. The general purposely dropped the cloth on Shem’s hand, and Shem’s fist enclosed it.
“Oh, General! Are you all right?” Mahrree rushed over to her father-in-law as if she was going to embrace him, but she only gripped his arm. “I can’t believe no one told me until this morning! Perrin’s been gone half of the night, and only now did someone send for me. Where’s Mother Shin?”
“In the guest quarters. I’ll take you to her, Mahrree.” The general nodded at the corporal and led Mahrree away.
She sent a fleeting and confused glance to Shem, but still Shem couldn’t move.
Only after they left the room did Shem relax, unclench his fist, and look at the cloth.
“No!” he gasped.
High General Shin had wiped off a minuscule drop of dried blood from under Shem’s chin. There it was, a small red smear revitalized by the dampness of the white cloth.
He frantically wrenched off his jacket and inspected it in the growing morning light for blood splatters.
Nothing.
He glanced at his cap on the floor, but it, too, was clean. He stood up and hurriedly made his way to a mirror above a wash stand at the front of the treatment room. His face was completely clear. Nothing either in his hair, throat, or ears.
High General Shin had noticed, in the dim morning light, the one bit of evidence that Shem had been near the lieutenants. And he’d given that bit of evidence to the corporal.
Shem sat down clumsily on a nearby cot. The only reason the general did that was because he was sure he would find something more compelling to accuse Shem with later.
Soldier at the Door (Forest at the Edge) Page 47