by Trish Mercer
The High General wasn't due to make his report for another hour, but some things will not wait.
That's why Chairman Mal, after reviewing the initial report from the garrison, marched out of his office shouting at his guard to ready his carriage. Within minutes he was whisked to the garrison, with the rest of his schedule destroyed because one man went off on a stupid impulse.
"Will take me days to get it all straightened out again!" Mal growled as he exited the carriage and strode up the stairs to the headquarters of the garrison.
As ornate and elegant as the Administrative Headquarters was, the new garrison was functional and dull. Every building was an inevitable rectangle, made of gray blocks and regularly spaced windows and plain doors that suggested exactness, order, and drudgery.
Army life, depicted in architecture.
But, if army life was as predictable as the garrison, Mal wouldn't have been bursting through the double doors shouting at the top of his lungs. "Where is he? Shin! I want to see you, NOW!"
The officers and soldiers walking down intersecting corridors all stopped to stare at the uncharacteristic outburst from the Chairman of Administrators.
A simple door down one of the hallways opened, and the large figure of the High General slowly stepped out into the hall. "Chairman Mal, what a pleasant surprise," he said sardonically. "A little confused by your schedule? I'm not due to brief you-"
Mal stepped around two large colonels to get to his target. "Why'd he do it, General?" he shouted, not caring who witnessed the argument that was about to ensue with the top wolf of the army. "Lost control over your pup? What's wrong with him?"
General Shin folded his arms. "We can discuss this in my office."
"Why?" Mal bellowed, his face turning as red as his coat. "Don't want the rest of the officers to know your reckless son broke the first rule of the army?"
General Shin's hard glare didn't change, even though more than two dozen officers and soldiers were now looking in his direction, awaiting his response.
"All of them know the risks my son took in order to preserve the safety of Edge and eliminate several Guarder threats," he said evenly. "I have nothing to hide about his success and his fort."
"His fort?" Mal barked, a vein bulging on his forehead. "Does that mean his rules now, too? And he dragged a lieutenant in with him?"
"Karna is an obedient, faithful officer-" Shin started, but Mal cut him off.
"Unlike your son! He's finished, Shin! Out of the army! Bring Perrin back, NOW!"
That finally drew a reaction from the High General. His eyebrows shot upwards and he unfolded his arms to put his hands on his hips, one hand next to his long knife, the other next to his ornate sword hilt.
"Bring him back for what? For keeping the Guarders out of Edge? For confining them to the forests? For preserving the lives of each of his soldiers, while at least nine Guarders died? Take away his commission for being successful, Mal? While he was unconventional-I'll not argue that-he was most certainly progressive in his approach to dealing with the Guarder threat!"
Mal took a step closer to the man who stood over a head taller than him, and was close to twice his size in bulk. But Mal had more power. "High General, Captain Shin showed extremely poor judgment by entering that forest and staying there," he seethed. "He was lucky he left that forest alive. It wasn't skill, it wasn't intelligence-it was merely chance. We cannot have commanders of forts setting such dangerous examples for their soldiers or the citizenry they're to protect."
But Mal knew he couldn't end it already. There was still so much to prove. So many years had gone into setting up this experiment, and then to eliminate the primary test subject so soon?
No.
No, revenge was far more satisfying than removal. Indeed, this just may have opened up all kinds of options-
"Still, I realize that Captain Shin is young and new in his position," Mal continued, trying not to sound too conciliatory, "and therefore likely to make mistakes. But-" he held up a finger shaking with fury because, after all, Perrin had caused the destruction of nine very capable, very extensively trained men, "-this will be his first and only mistake I will tolerate. You will hereby place Captain Perrin Shin on notice that if he cannot live by every rule established by the Army of Idumea-"
There were rules. Regulations. Expectations to how the game was played. Nicko followed the rules, but Perrin had ignored them all and came off looking like the hero.
Mal kept a score sheet in his head. Now as he glared at Relf Shin, and although he didn't want it to, the sheet showed up to mock him.
Perrin-nine; Nicko-zero.
Perrin had cheated.
"-if he can't follow the rules, he WILL be relieved of duty and returned to Idumea!"
The High General didn't even seem to breathe.
Mal was nearly screaming now. "And you will also make it clear to the captain that no one-no matter how obedient or willing the stupid soldier is that chooses to follow him-should enter into the forests above Edge or anywhere else in the world! Should anyone else take one step into that forest, he too will be brought immediately to Idumea. Is that understood?!"
It was an impressively long spell that the High General stood there, unresponsive. The tempo of Mal's breathing changed at least three times waiting for Shin to even blink. The top wolf did enjoy his stare downs, especially since there was nothing else he could do. His son broke the rules. Even though Mal knew the general's stalling was to somehow prove he had the upper hand, he obviously didn't. Mal gloated about that victory later, but for now he stared back, feeling his heart pounding in erratic rage.
It was advising General Cush who could no longer stand the tension. The portly man with the thin black beard and mustache-allowed only because he had very little hair on top, and was never going to be anywhere near hand-to-hand combat-finally stepped forward. With his ever-ready smile he put one friendly hand on Shin's shoulder while his other patted Mal's shoulder.
Mal, not one for mollifying gestures, glowered.
Cush pulled his Chairman hand back to safety, but kept the other on the High General. Likely to help hold him back, Nicko decided.
"Already taking care of it, Chairman," Cush said cheerfully. "In the middle of writing to Captain Shin right now. You see, he's actually under my jurisdiction, as all new commanders are, and as such I'm crafting the response to his proposals-"
"Aldwyn!" Shin whispered in warning.
"Proposals?" Mal hissed. "What proposals?"
"Suggestions, really!" Cush chuckled in a feeble attempt to lighten the mood. "Perrin had a few suggestions, the Command Board denied them, naturally, but it's nice to see our young officers trying to be progressive, isn't it, Chairman?"
Cush released his grip on Shin's shoulder and daringly put a reassuring arm around Mal. "I've got things under control, and I'll be sure to tell Perrin exactly how you feel about everything. You know you can trust me, right Chairman?"
Mal could, he was fairly certain. Some time ago he had his own private talk with the second in command of the army, the subordinate wolf just biding his time to take over the pack. Their discussion was vague enough that Aldwyn Cush never completely understood just what it was all about. But Mal had decided Cush wasn't the man he wanted. While he was experienced and useful, he was simply too social, always trying to bridge the gaps between everyone else.
Mal needed a fellow strategist, not a cloying politician, so he chose another research companion. It was fortunate for the High General that his long-time friend was, while opportunistic, also rather lazy. He'd jump at a bone only if it was laid on his nose.
"I want to see that response before you send it, Cush. In my office."
"Of course, Chairman! I'll bring it by myself."
---
As Chairman Mal stomped his way out to his carriage, High General Shin growled under his breath, staring at the now vacant reception area. The rest of the soldiers quickly dispersed, trying to steal subtle glances at the
High General as they fled to offices and exits, but not subtly enough.
"He's right, Relf, I'm sorry to say," Cush said quietly, trying to pull Shin out of his brooding. "Perrin was remarkably bold and completely noncompliant."
"But he succeeded, Aldwyn," Shin groused as he turned to go into his office, Cush following him. "Doesn't it make sense to let officers do what works?"
"Relf, your father was the one who wrote the laws of the army, and you pledged to uphold them," Cush reminded as he closed the door behind them. "We can't go turning our backs now on the traditions that have preserved our army for so many years."
Shin sat down at his desk. "Why not? Why don't we be progressive and take a risk?"
Cush wagged a thick finger at him. "I love it how you use Mal's 'progressive' speech every time you want to do something against the law. But it won't work, my friend. There are times to be progressive-as you love to misuse that term-and times to cling to the traditions that keep our civilization stable. The key is knowing which to change, and which to cling to."
Relf sighed again as he picked up his son's detailed proposal. "All of those stuffed red coats are a waste of cloth," he murmured. "Come in here yelling at me about how to do my job . . . Hard to think of a decent one in the lot-"
"Oh, there are a few good ones," Cush said amiably. "There's that Dr. Brisack, for one."
The High General shrugged at that. "Someone in charge of Family Life better appear genial. But the others-I swear they sprung out of the same cesspool that spawned Gadiman."
Cush chuckled nervously. "Careful, Relf. Don't want the wrong ears hearing you."
Shin scoffed at that as he perused his son's writing. "Interesting idea with changing uniforms to blend into the surroundings-"
Cush sat down in a chair opposite him. "No, Relf. Not in the least bit! The Command Board already discussed that-"
"They wouldn't kill each other by accident!" Shin burst out. "How absurd."
Cush leaned across the desk, grunting as he did so, and pulled Captain Shin's proposals out of the High General's hands. "I'll let you read the response before I go to Mal. Seeing as how Perrin's your only son, Relf, I'm rather surprised you're not more upset at his willful disregard for his own life."
"Oh, I was!" Relf exclaimed. "Initially. Then I started thinking about what he did and, well . . . fatherly pride replaced my concern."
"Will you still feel that fatherly pride when your daughter-in-law sends you a tear-stained message that her husband has vanished in the forest and no one can find his corpse? After six years of hearing about our grandson Lemuel, Joriana's been telling my wife how excited she is about the prospects of becoming a grandmother," Cush hinted.
High General Shin rubbed his forehead. "Yes, yes, I know. Joriana's already bought a baby blanket. Point made, Aldwyn. Say what you need to, but let me send the response."
---
Tuma Hifadhi heard the knocking on his office door. He looked up from his desk and called, "Come in."
A lean, middle-aged man opened the door.
"Hew Gleace! How wonderful to see you. Come in, come in."
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything-" Gleace said as he came into the room.
"Of course not," the elderly man gestured to a chair next to his desk. "I always have time. You seem to be bursting with something, Hew."
Gleace smiled readily as he sat down. "I am, Tuma. We just received word back from the scouts in the forest."
"The raid is over," the old man began to smile. "So . . ."
"He walked right in, chasing the attackers! And this time, he stayed. For three full days and four nights he chased them up and down as if he had been born and raised in the trees. Never once showed fear." Gleace began to chuckle. "His lieutenant, on the other hand . . ."
But Hifadhi ignored that as he sat back and sighed. "Pere Shin's grandson."
"Pere Shin's grandson, yes."
Hifadhi slowly shook his head. "That I lived to see this day . . . His grandson, going over the wall . . ." And he closed his eyes.
Gleace waited patiently, having seen him do this before.
Hifadhi's eyes opened a few moments later. "Keep up the surveillance patrols for now. We don't need anyone closer until it's revealed that an intimate presence is required. I'm still not entirely sure about this one, but time will tell." He smiled in amazement. "Walked into the forest . . . and stayed there!"
---
Two men sat in the dark office of an unlit building.
Nicko Mal stared at his companion, daring him to speak.
The second man looked back with a slightly amused expression.
Mal drummed his fingers on the armrest.
The second man took a risk. "It's only because you said he always surprises you that I felt safe in speculating that Shin would succeed."
"They didn't even make it into the village because of him!" Mal fumed. That had been the true splinter in his foot that sent him into the tirade at the garrison. That, and the fact that Perrin wasn't even injured in the forest beyond a few scratches. He took a deep breath to compose himself. "Shin was, however, a bit slow to respond initially. You must admit that."
"Conceded." His partner smiled.
"Perhaps it had something to do with him being a newlywed and living away from the fort. Unfortunate timing, I suppose," Mal sniggered. "Perhaps this will remind him that duty comes before the wife. But there was that ten minutes. Ten minutes. Why didn't they get into the village during that time?!"
"A new tactic," the second man explained. "Eliminate the patrolling soldiers first. In Grasses there were several on patrol that nearly captured some of our men. We didn't want that to happen again."
Mal grunted. "But only two soldiers were injured in Edge. What about the rest?"
The middle-aged man fidgeted. "The patrols weren't on a regular rotation. Up until last week, they were. It seems that only recently Shin varied the rotation times so that the patrols were unpredictable."
Mal formed a fist. "Wiles was in charge of the patrols, was he not?"
"Apparently not even he was aware of the captain's changes. The night of the attack, Shin himself briefed the sergeant on duty as how to stagger the patrols. As if he was concerned something like this could happen."
"Did he somehow know we were coming?" Mal squinted.
The second man shrugged. "I think he was just being a thoughtful commander, anticipating the need. Perhaps he can think like a Guarder. No one knows whose ancestors were among the Guarders, after all. He seems to be one of those you predicted at the beginning would attempt to fight this on his own."
Mal grumbled to himself.
"What I find intriguing," his partner continued, "was his deliberate disobedience to the rules of engagement. Preliminary conclusion to our question: He wasn't too comfortable, and marriage has made him an aggressive wolf to protect his mate."
That brought Mal out of his sullenness. "Oh indeed," he bristled. "Absolute disregard for anything he'd been trained to do. Pursuing into the woods like that-very brash! Very reckless! We must not lose containment!"
The second man suppressed a smile at Mal's agitation. "I wished I could have seen Relf's reaction to his son's report. I'm assuming General Cush included the admonition that no officers or soldiers return to the forest?"
"He did! Read the response myself. I'm sure the captain will receive the message and he best heed it. We can't have him changing the conventions of warfare and unraveling our work just because he has an impulse!"
Mal sighed, took another deep breath and said steadily, "The fort in Trades is completed, and just in time to put extra soldiers around that gold mine. No one in the far south has had any encounters with Guarders, and the letter skimmers are spending too much time reading complaints from Trades, so we need to lighten their load and alleviate the pain of the complainers. The commander in Trades is a single man with no long-term interests in women. We'll question his readiness for a time."
The sec
ond man smirked at Mal's shift in focus. But he had several strategies to turn it back again. First, bring up Perrin Shin.
Privately, the second man was conducting his own study: How quickly can one unhinge Nicko Mal?
"Perhaps if there had been some soldier deaths in Edge, or if the action was closer to Perrin's home-"
"Next time it better be!" Mal snapped.
It is really just that easy-the second man made a mental note-to drive Mal to distraction.
Mal drummed his fingers on the armrest again, the raid on Trades already forgotten.
The second man smiled triumphantly to himself. It was fascinating to observe a man that could control the world, yet not himself. Maybe, maybe, he didn't control the world as well as he thought either.
"So when activity returns to Edge, you want to create a situation that allows for a variety of observable responses?"
"Yes!" Mal exclaimed as if that was obvious. "You have ideas?"
"A few that I'm working on," the second man assured. "I still have that map, you know. I have to confess," he said thoughtfully, unable to resist pushing Mal just a bit further-for research, after all-"I find myself quite fascinated by the captain. I wonder how long he planned on entering the forest. He deserves a great deal of attention. Perhaps we should consider a closer presence for a time. Someone that can get-"
"I want Wiles OUT OF THERE!" Mal bellowed. "I knew he wouldn't be up to this assignment!"
The second man frowned. "Weren't you the one who said he was 'most fit' for the assignment? Excellent work with the map and all?"
"He's failed the oaths! Failed his duty! Just GET HIM OUT!"
---
Coaches traveling from Edge to Idumea pass many villages along the way, the wide cobblestone road lined with plenty of inns and taverns willing to take in weary travelers. In a hurry, the trip can be done in two straight days and a night, but rarely do people travel in such a grueling manner. One might die of the excessive distance.
Or of boredom. Everyone knew that.
So the rest stations were established at intervals along the main road to provide comfort at an elevated price, with lumpy mattresses that felt like goose down after the jostling of the carriage, and gristly food that slid down mucus-lined throats where it met already nauseated bellies whose owners would attribute their increased illness to the torturous ride rather than the "comfort" they paused for. In such a manner, the journey-for those brave enough or desperate enough to take it-could be extended for weeks, ensuring no one chanced death along the journey. Unless they stopped at a particularly scruffy place outside of Rivers.
But army coaches were different. No one was sure exactly how, but they never stopped. Rumor was that they had some kind of privy fashioned into the large black enclosures. But the owners of the comfort stops and taverns grumbled that wasn't true. The soldiers that rode in the coaches simply had stronger willpower than the rest of the world, or did unmentionable things out the window when they passed the less populated areas. To see a dark army coach whisk by, being pulled by four horses which were changed exclusively at the forts or the Administrators' larger messaging stations, was to know that whoever it was carrying was in a hurry.
But Sergeant Major Wiles wasn't aware of any of this as he lay on the coach bench, unsure of his surroundings. Everything had happened so quickly, then slowly, then quickly again as if his mind couldn't regulate the passage of time.
He was ill-that much he knew-then it was light and dark again, and he was put into the coach, and it rumbled for hours and minutes and days and seconds. All was dark inside the coach and out, and for a lucid moment he began to understand what was happening. He hated that moment, because up until then his mind had allowed him to entertain all kinds of possibilities.
But then the coach door swung open while it still continued at a fast pace along the cobblestones, and when Wiles saw the gloved hand reach in toward him, he knew what was coming.
He didn't even have a chance to plead for his life. The oaths wouldn't have allowed it, anyway. The oaths had demanded he do something else days ago, but he hadn't. That's why the massive man dressed in black was there-to fulfill the oaths.
He snatched Wiles easily out of the hurrying coach. The old sergeant major didn't make any sound at all.
The coach continued on, the horses once again speeding up, perhaps sensing their load was now slightly lighter, and galloped their way in the dark toward Idumea.
---
A week after the attacks ended, Captain Shin sat in his office in the command tower and reread the report from General Cush. He looked vainly for loopholes.
Captain Shin,
Your recommendations have been reviewed and discussed among the Command Board and Chairman Mal. We value your efforts to improve the Army of Idumea, but feel many of your ideas are premature or inappropriate.
First, the uniform of the army will not change. While it does seem logical to create a field uniform that blends into the surroundings, the danger is that soldiers will attack their own, believing they are the enemy. The uniform is also one of the oldest and highest traditions the army has, dating back to the Great War, and altering it would be like altering the army-unacceptable.
Captain Shin smirked. That wasn't his father's belief. Relf Shin held up the call for tradition as strongly as his son did. They tried to drop it on its head as often as possible.
"Just create a field uniform," Perrin grumbled. "Not something that looks like them. That would be as useless as the Guarders dressing up in blue uniforms."
Captain Shin sighed as he continued to read.
While your suggestion to revive the suits of mail used in the Great War seems to have merit, the current attack strategies of the Guarders may not require such elaborate and expensive armor. Mail and shields were necessary when the enemy one hundred twenty years ago employed the extensive use of bows and arrows, as well as maces. But Guarders seem to be outfitted only with daggers and engage only in close combat.
It is the opinion of the army leadership that even mail may not have prevented the injuries sustained by your men, nor would mail have afforded any protection to the soldier which the Guarder held hostage. No mail was ever made to extend to one's throat.
"But it could be!" Captain Shin said out loud to the paper. "And what makes you think they won't start using arrows or maces?" He smacked the message in frustration. Also not his father's opinion, he was sure. But what was the point of being High General when all the lesser generals and Administrators controlled the army?
Shin fumed when he read the next line again.
As for breastplates and other shielding you suggested, while thick leather would be easier and less costly than mail, it is the opinion of the garrison that such defensive measures may alarm the citizenry, who are of the belief their soldiers are the bravest the world has ever produced, and are not in need of any such protection.
"It would have put three more men to work in the village, making armor! But say what you mean, Cush," he bellowed at the paper, "I'm a coward for wanting to preserve my soldiers. Oh, but wait. If I really was a coward, would I have suggested the next thing you've decided is also 'inappropriate'?"
As for beginning training within the forest itself, that too is contrary to anything we have ever done. The purpose of the army is to defend the citizenry of the world. We are not aggressors or pursuers. Your brash and reckless behavior in entering the forest-and remaining there-would suggest you are too aggressive to capably lead your fort.
That last sentence must have been drafted by Nicko Mal himself. Professor Mal's favorite line to describe Perrin back in Command School was "aggressively brash and reckless." He scowled as he finished the message.
We at the garrison realize this was your first encounter with Guarders, and the fact that your soldiers sustained no loss of life redeems your otherwise dangerous behavior. The command of the fort of Edge is still yours, but you are admonished to follow all established protoco
l in defending the village and fort, and in training the soldiers. You may, however, conduct training procedures along the edge of the forest, without actually entering into it. No one under any circumstances is to be allowed to enter the forests for any reasons. The risks are too great, the payoffs too small.
If you find yourself unable to follow all of the established rules of the army, and insist on performing in a reckless manner, a new career will be decided for you.
Captain Shin's left hand formed a fist as he reread those words. That last sentence may have come from his father. Or perhaps even his mother, he considered with a dour smile. He sighed and reread the small note that had been attached under General Cush's official signature.
Take care of that wife of yours and keep her safe from the storms. The sky here is frequently cloudy and dark as of late.
By the way, son-excellent work. RS.
Perrin smiled, peeled the note off the wax attachment and slipped it into his pocket. Then he put the official message on top of the cabinets behind him, planning to "accidentally" nudge it later so that it would fall into the oblivion between the cabinet and the wall.
He pulled out the next message from the packet from Idumea and reread it. He scratched his chin, still puzzled.
Wiles was missing, and High General Shin had sent out yet another message to all forts asking them to inquire with their local law enforcers for additional clues as to what may have happened.
Ever since the captain and the lieutenant emerged from the forest-filthy and scratched, but alive and defiant-and Perrin announced to Wiles and the master sergeant, "We can conquer that forest-I know it!" Wiles had been as pale as a first season private.
Two days after the Guarder attack and the suicides of the prisoners, Wiles didn't even send a messenger to explain his absence yet again in the tower.
Perrin and Karna went looking for him and discovered him in his quarters, clutching his chest. They rushed him to the hospital wing and watched in worry as the surgeon and his assistant tried to help the old sergeant major calm down his rapid breathing.
That's when the message arrived from Idumea, and was delivered to the captain at the hospital.
Chairman Nicko Mal, concerned about the health of his old friend so near the forest, ordered that Wiles be returned to Idumea to retire immediately with full honors. The message was accompanied by release papers signed by the High General.
Perrin thought the offer of retirement was a surprisingly benevolent gesture. But curiously Wiles's breathing became even more labored and his chest pains more severe when he heard that Mal wanted to bring him home.
Even though they laid him in the fort coach that evening to make his ride as comfortable as possible, the weakened Wiles seemed more restless than ever. They even sent a surgeon's aid along to care for him during the long ride to Idumea.
But when the coach arrived outside of Pools for another change of horses late at night, Wiles was no longer in the coach. His crate with his possessions was still in there, but no sergeant major.
The soldiers driving the coach and the surgeon's aid inside were baffled. They hadn't seen or heard anything unusual, and when they changed horses outside of Vines, Wiles was finally sleeping on the carriage bench. The surgeon's aid had nodded off for a well-deserved break, waking only when the carriage stopped for the next horse change.
That was three days ago, and still nothing had been heard about the sergeant major. High General Shin had thoroughly interrogated the soldiers and the surgeon's aid, and was confident all three men were as innocent as they trembled to be. Soldiers from Pools to Vines and even up to Midplain were dispatched to check the roads, thinking that perhaps Wiles had become disoriented and tried to leave the coach while it was moving, but they found no clues.
That struck Perrin as exceptionally odd. The main road to Idumea was well used. And even though the coach traveled at night to get Wiles as quickly as possible to the surgeons at the garrison, it was difficult to imagine that no one would have noticed an old man's body lying on the side of the road. At this time of year all the fields, farm after farm all the way to Idumea, were filled with workers bringing in the harvest.
Wiles had simply vanished. Just like people had vanished years ago, when the Guarders were most active.
Guarder snatched, as the more paranoid liked to claim.
A string of words he uttered just minutes ago replayed themselves suddenly in Perrin's head. "Guarders dressing up in blue uniforms . . ."
His stunned whisper faded into nothing.
No.
No. That couldn't be possible. That wouldn't be imagined. Wiles had been around for years. That would mean that anyone . . . any time . . . and they could be anywhere . . . then they could-
He dropped the message as if it burned his fingers, and stared out at the forest for a very long time.
---
That night he was very quiet as he lay in bed next to his wife.
"You've been lost in thought all evening," Mahrree gently prodded him. "What's wrong?"
It took him another minute to answer her. "Had a thought, earlier. At the fort."
Mahrree tried to keep her sigh quiet. Dawn was only about eight hours away, and at this rate it would take her hours to get him to articulate his thought. "About . . .?"
"Wiles."
Ah, some progress, and faster than she expected. "About him still missing? About-"
Another long pause. "Who he really was."
Now Mahrree went silent, lost in worry. "What do you mean?"
"What if . . . what if he was one of them?"
Mahrree huddled closer to her husband, and he put a protective arm around her. "But . . . but that wouldn't make any sense. He's been around for years, right? It's not like he suddenly showed up volunteering to serve in the army."
Perrin's shoulders relaxed. "True, true. He's always been here. I keep reminding myself of that."
"Why would you have to remind yourself?" she asked. "I mean, if you thought he was one of them, that would mean he infiltrated the army years ago. That he's been living among us for decades. Why, why that's ridiculous!" Her tone wasn't as light as she hoped it would be.
"Yes. Ridiculous," he answered in a monotone. "But what if?"
"Then . . .then . . . it's all over," she whimpered. "We have no hope. They know everything about us, they can destroy us in an instant-"
"But they haven't," he reminded her. "If they really have infiltrated the army-the world-then why haven't they taken us over? Why haven't they destroyed us?"
Mahrree sighed in frustration. "It doesn't make any sense."
"It never has, remember? No, the more I think about it, the more I'm sure-Wiles wasn't one of them. None of them are among us. It was just a stray thought that I gave too much attention. Wiles was just a regular old man who met an unfortunate end. That's all. Sorry to bother you with the idea. Good night, my darling wife."
Mahrree lay awake for hours listening to her husband softly snoring. Finally she decided that if he wasn't worried, she shouldn't be either.
It was one of the worst nights she ever endured, and she wasn't even nauseated.
