Shem trudged in the thick mud to the steam vent late at night. His contact was already waiting at the log which was now pushed slightly away from the hot steam. By Weeding Season the log would be several feet away from the heat.
“I think these boots are each five pounds heavier,” Shem said. He sat down and tried to scrape off the mud with a stick.
The large man with the deep voice chuckled. “Building muscle, Shem. Remember that.”
Shem rolled his eyes. “How much more muscle can I build?”
His companion held out his arms.
“All right, Jothan. Until I’m as big as you, I’ll quit complaining. And of course, no one’s as big as you.” He gave up on the mud and tossed the stick. “Had an interesting meeting.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“Shin wants the four forts in the area to attack Moorland.”
Jothan let out a low whistle. “Unexpected. Interesting.”
“Told you. There’s more. I need to know—was there a group of four, from Quake recently? With two young boys?”
“Yes. Through your channel,” Jothan said. “Why?”
Shem sighed. “The commander of the Quake fort knows about their disappearance. A major with a name you should enjoy— Graeson Fadh.”
“Ah, wonderful!”
“And the officers suspect Guarders.”
Slowly Jothan nodded. “Even more interesting.”
“Do we need to be worried?”
Jothan thought about that. “I’ll relay that information and get back to you at the usual time. But unless someone uncovers more, I can’t imagine that explanation would be a problem.”
“They’re sending messages to all the villages requesting details about people who’ve vanished over the years,” Shem said. “They’re worried that abducted people might be housed in Moorland.”
“Hmm,” Jothan pondered that. “We’ve been very careful over the years. I doubt more than a dozen or so names will be uncovered. Surely not enough to look suspicious.”
“That’s what I thought,” Shem agreed. “It’s been rare that anyone asked. Usually no one seems to care about new neighbors suddenly vanishing. The Fadhs were just unusual.”
“Well, with a name like that, of course they would be.”
Shem chuckled. “I have another name for you to check: Yordin. About thirty years ago?”
“Yordin? Yordin . . . oh, yes. Yes, there were two. Gone now, but they came through as well.”
Shem nodded slowly. “Their grandson is another major.”
“Wished I could have been at that meeting!” Jothan laughed.
Shem smiled. “You would’ve enjoyed it. I certainly did. There’s also going to be a new play,” he grinned, but only for a moment. “Jothan, I’m worried about Beneff. He used the word ‘meadow.’”
Jothan whistled under his breath. “Did anyone hear him?”
“Everyone heard him! Fadh and Yordin even asked what it meant.”
“Not good. And what did he say?”
“Well, he got confused on those points. Now everyone thinks a meadow is a garden by the forest where deer come to eat. But no one plants the garden.”
Jothan sighed. “His mind’s really slipping then, isn’t it.”
“I told Shin I’d have the surgeon take a look at him. He thinks Beneff’s just getting confused in his old age.”
“Good. That can cover a whole multitude of Beneff mistakes.”
“Agreed. But in the meantime, tell the others to keep an eye out for him. If he wanders out here he should be taken care of.”
“We’ve been trying to get our hands on him for a very long time. Nudge him out here, if you can. Incidentally, Shem, we have another group coming through. An emergency situation all the way from Waves. We predict they will reach here by midday meal, day after tomorrow.”
“In the day?”
“Time’s critical. There’s no other option. Can you keep the east clear?”
“I’ve already scheduled massive maneuvers for the western edge of the forest to practice for the attack,” Shem said. “I’ll need to get the colonel distracted. He was going to stay in the command tower to work on the details of the plans. He rarely looks out the eastern window, but still the spyglass could pick them up . . .” A smile began to spread across Shem’s face. “I have the very thing. Our new chief of enforcement is greener than a meadow,” he said with a wink. “He’s going to encounter a problem day after tomorrow, and may need to call on Perrin.” Shem nodded. “All will be clear.”
“You always find a way, don’t you, Shem?” Jothan nudged him with his elbow.
---
“I’m telling you, I’m as fit as any man and my mind’s sharper than a . . . a sharp thing that can cut—a sword! Yes, than a sword!”
The fort surgeon Dr. Stitch patted Beneff genially on the shoulder. “Of course you are, of course you are. You know, I’m retiring in another moon. Lots of things for men our age to do—”
“In the army, ho-hi!” Beneff exclaimed, trying to put his shirt back on.
“Beneff, according to my records you’ve been serving for over fifty years, and we don’t have an accurate age for you. All that was recorded when you joined is ‘about 24’. Weren’t sure of your age when you signed up?”
“I knew my age!” Beneff insisted, missing a button and restarting again. “Lied like everyone else, don’t you know, don’t you know? So I’m not seventy-whatever, now am I?”
“More like ninety-whatever,” Stitch murmured to himself.
“What, what? Huh! As if the fish know where to harvest the corn. Big push we have coming, you know—”
“I do know,” Stitch sighed. “That’s why we need to make sure you’re able—”
“My whole career’s been waiting for this!” Beneff declared, hopping off of the exam table. “My heart’s beating, my lungs are breathing, my head’s thinking, and I have a duty to perform!”
Stitch nodded. “Yes, Colonel Shin’s told me you’ll be helping to set up camp and he wants to make sure that you’re—.”
Beneff scowled. “That’s not all, hi-hee and with cabbage to spread it around. That’s only one part! I’ve been waiting a long time. I have a duty to perform! You’ll not stop me! Not you nor a herd of elephants!”
Stitch put on a smile appropriate for seven-year-old boys. “Now, now, no one’s trying to stop you, but I can’t help but ask: are meh-dohs where the elephants feed?”
“Ha! HA-HA!” Beneff barked. “You know nothing! So stick that on a horse and watch it simmer!”
Beneff kicked open the door furiously and headed down the hall, shouting something about ducks and their inability to use tools.
An assistant sidled up to Stitch. “Well?”
The surgeon sighed. “In two weeks we’ll force his retirement. Let him finish out his last ‘great’ duty in setting up tents for the colonel’s offensive, then let him leave with a shred of dignity.”
Beneff passed the open door, having initially gone in the wrong direction, and still not done expressing his displeasure. “Told you, my heart’s still pumping,” he bellowed as he headed down the other corridor, “my mind’s still thinking and . . . my pipes are still leaking! Ho, hum—where’s the blasted privy?”
“What were you saying about his dignity, Stitch?”
“I said, only a shred of it.”
---
Three days after the officers’ meeting Perrin trotted up the stairs to his office. He was going to beat the sunrise and watch it come through his window. Anxiousness filled him with a desire to get back to his attack plans as quickly as possible. He had to finish today or his energy would propel him straight out the windows.
His schedule the previous afternoon to rework the plans had been utterly demolished. First, he had to answer the distress banner at the village green just before midday meal. The frazzled chief of enforcement Barnie and his officers were overwhelmed trying to undo Edge’s first real Idumaeic jam.
&n
bsp; A very apologetic rector, an older man visiting from Midplain to see Rector Yung, somehow caused three wagons, two carts, four horses, three mule teams, a broken crate of chickens, and an overfriendly hog to block an entire section of the granary district. Perrin still thought enforcement might have had all of that under control, except that’s when three of Mahrree’s students taking a stroll during midday meal when they should have been at school were attracted by the accident, as all boys are. They saw the driver of a wagon transporting mead leave his team to offer assistance. In a flash they stole the wagon, and the fort was summoned to help.
Since Zenos and Thorne were leading nearly all of the soldiers in a practice for the offensive along the western side of the village, Perrin, Lieutenant Offra, and a couple of enlisted men were all that were available to track down the boys. They retrieved them soon enough: the teens had stopped at an intersection to argue over which direction to take their stolen goods. When Perrin finished incarcerating them at the enforcement building, he went back to the jam to observe its untangling before heading to the fort.
That’s when he spotted the old visiting rector wringing his hands in worry and shouting apologies over and over. Perrin finally escorted him to Rector Yung’s and the elderly man couldn’t stop talking during the three-roads walk to the rectory. As they neared Yung’s, he took Perrin’s hand and shook it vigorously.
“Again, Colonel, I am so sorry. Really not in my nature, you know, to cause problems! I’ve been spending some time in Idumea and I guess it just rubbed off on me. But it’s a great honor to meet you, sir. I’ve admired you for years, and I hope to see you again some time. Truly, such a privilege to finally meet you!”
Fortunately at that moment Rector Yung came out of his house, saw his old friend approaching, and escorted him home, nodding his apologies to the colonel.
Perrin just chuckled and wondered for the briefest of moments why the Midplain rector said “admired for years.”
By that hour in the afternoon Perrin was forced to make good on his promise to Peto and watch his son’s first kickball game against a team from the south side of Edge. While Perrin thought it would have been far more entertaining to be on the field with his son playing with him instead of watching, he had to agree that Peto at least knew what he was doing. He scored the only two goals his team earned, and even though they lost, Peto grinned from ear to ear. Perrin had difficulty in focusing on the game when so many different strategies for Moorland were battling in his mind like the boys dodging each other on the field.
The evening was taken up by pretending to listen to Jaytsy describe every bug she found in the Briters’ farm, and if it was harmful or helpful. Perrin found himself naming the different sections of the attack after the insects. Mantis. Aphid. Locust. Centipede. When Jaytsy mentioned “ladybug,” Perrin smugly thought that could be a name for Thorne’s division.
Then the hour before bed was his nightly, “Tell me about the day—all of it,” ritual with Mahrree. He’d given her so many details he’d considered making her an honorary officer. She could take over if ever he were injured. For the past eight weeks he’d been as solid as ever, and he was considering ending their practice so he could have some time to himself, but Mahrree had grown accustomed to Colonel Cuddly on the sofa, and he owed her that much.
It seemed only in the early mornings could he find the solitude he craved in which to concentrate on the plans without interruption. But as he reached the top stair of the command tower that morning, he realized that his hour wasn’t going to happen today, either.
Captain Thorne sat at the large desk in the forward office with a thick envelope in hand.
Perrin growled softly, thinking that he could have named Thorne’s division after ants which he loved to crush under his boot. He wondered which kind of ant Thorne would prove to be this morning: the sycophant, or the defiant.
“Colonel! I thought I’d catch you this early,” he said cheerfully.
Sycophant, Perrin groaned to himself. He would have preferred him distant.
“How long have you been waiting, Thorne?”
“Just a couple of minutes, sir. From my quarter’s window I saw you arrive this early yesterday morning, so I just assumed—” The light faded from his eyes and he looked worried about having revealed he’d been spying on the colonel.
Perrin wasn’t too surprised by the worried look. It would have been good to see if it were genuine. But he wasn’t convinced yet. Lemuel Thorne was to be trying to be a different officer these past few weeks—more humble and willing—but only when he remembered to be. Apparently this morning he was attempting to be a perfect subordinate.
Well, Perrin thought, we’ll see just how long this lasts.
“You made a safe assumption about my being here this morning, Captain,” Perrin said stiffly. “What can I do for you?”
Thorne’s face relaxed a little. “This came late last night, from Lieutenant Colonel Karna. In the message that accompanied it he said that I shouldn’t wake you, but just be sure I give it to you first thing in the morning. This would be first thing . . .”
Perrin gave him a fake smile as he took the message. He had perfected the smile so well a year ago at The Dinner that he had decided to keep it. He used it on the magistrate, the chief of enforcement, and on the group of admiring basket weavers from Mountseen who “happened” to run in to him as they slowly walked up and down every road several evenings ago.
“Come into my office. Let’s see what this is about.”
Perrin would have much rather preferred to discuss this with Shem, or even with Offra or Radan, who were pouring their hearts and souls into establishing the new storehouses.
But no, he had Captain Thorne in front of him, his second in command, and Perrin realized that at some point he might actually have to start treating him as such. Perrin sat down behind his desk and gestured for Thorne to take the chair opposite of him.
Thorne sat carefully, not too close, not too far away, with an oddly eager smile on his face.
Perrin tried to ignore the captain, who was almost painful to look at this morning, as he opened the thick envelope. Karna had sent a report about missing people. It wasn’t a complete list yet, but there was a name Brillen found interesting: Wistacerly Riplak.
“Riplak?” Thorne repeated when the colonel read it out loud. “As in the missing lieutenant from your parents’ home?”
“Yes, seems that way. They never did find him. Knock off a few letters here and there,” Perrin gestured to the document, “and ‘Wistacerly’ becomes Tace.”
“Wistacerly,” Thorne sniggered. “I can see why he wanted to be known as ‘Tace.’”
Perrin didn’t reply. He didn’t think the name “Lemuel” was anything to be proud of. Knock of a few letters, he becomes Muel. Mule.
“Thorne,” he said, instead of dwelling on the delightful possibility of muling the captain by knocking a couple of other things off, “do you know how old Riplak was?”
“He wasn’t in my year at Command School, so maybe a couple years older than me, sir. Maybe twenty-four last year?”
Perrin nodded. “Sounds about right. He was working in the stables at my parents’ before he went to the university. My father thought he was living with an uncle. He must have been in Idumea for about eight years. According to what Karna found, his parents reported him missing at age sixteen. That makes Wistacerly Riplak the correct age.”
“A runaway?”
“Another safe assumption, Captain,” Perrin attempted to give him a friendly smile, but he didn’t feel it. A part of him tried to remember that this boy was only twenty-three and still learning. He had made mistakes, there was no denying that, but everyone deserved a second chance, especially someone whose father was Qayin Thorne.
But then a much larger part of Perrin fumed every time he saw the insolent boy who thought he was entitled to his daughter.
Captain Thorne gave him back a wary smile.
&nbs
p; “Perhaps Riplak wasn’t a runaway,” Perrin speculated out loud. “According to the report he’d had problems with thievery in Orchards, but no other conflicts with his parents. The runaways I’ve encountered usually are trying to escape their parents.”
“But what if the parents didn’t report any problems, sir? What if they lied and told enforcement they had a good relationship?”
Something in the way Thorne said those words made Perrin believe he had some experience with that. “A valid point. I’m sure most parents don’t want to admit any conflicts with their children.”
Thorne nodded.
Perrin wanted to feel some compassion for him. He really did. The Writings said he should. Lemuel’s family undoubtedly expected that he would someday become the High General, and it was difficult to live with such pressure, Perrin knew.
But as he looked at the anxious young man, the urge to leap over the desk and punch that boy in the mouth overwhelmed him again. He fought it down, just as he did a dozen times each day.
“What if, instead of running away, Riplak was coerced away?” Perrin suggested. “What if he was recruited by the Guarders so they could have a man on the inside?”
Thorne nodded at the idea. “But the university is so expensive. Where would he or the Guarders get the money to pay for it?”
“I used to believe that the money came from his ‘uncle,’ who may not even exist,” Shin said. “But I’m working on a new theory. When the Guarders, or thieving teenage boys, raid houses what do they take?”
Thorne shrugged. “Jewels, gold . . .” Understanding passed across his face. “Things of value! Things they can sell and use for purchasing what they need, like a Command School education?”
Perrin shook his head. “Stealing to afford an education. I never would have imagined that,” he muttered more to himself. “No one wanted their money’s worth when I was there. We were always looking for excuses to skip class. We actually cheered when one hated professor was sick for two weeks.”
Thorne narrowed his eyes. “Might that have been Berts?”
Perrin knew what Lemuel was trying to do, and it twisted in his gut. Diplomacy. Drag your enemy to a neutral ground, then find something in common there. Perrin had walked right up to it. But he was curious to see where Thorne might take him.
“Berts was the world geology professor back when I was there.”
Thorne nodded. “He’s still there. The man was drier than a drought in Sands. I fell asleep in his class once. Only time it ever happened in my time at the university,” the captain insisted. “Berts was so furious that he pulled me off my desk and marched me all the way to the garrison to my grandfather’s office, who also wasn’t too pleased. But General Shin?” Thorne looked down with a small smile. “Your father just laughed. Told me to spend the day in the office if I wanted.” Thorne lifted his head and tried to hold the colonel in his gaze. “He got me out of trouble that day.”
Perrin felt like applauding. Oh, nicely done, he thought. A dry attempt at humor, followed by bringing in Relf, then finding a way to honor his memory. No wonder he graduated early. He could create a whole course on authority manipulation. Perrin didn’t even have a way to verify if the story was true.
“How nice.” Perrin looked down at the report to fight the urge to break a few more of Thorne’s perfectly straight teeth. He’d heard that the molar he smashed had been repaired in Idumea, so it wasn’t as if Lemuel couldn’t spare losing another one. “Thank you for coming so early, Captain. This may be some evidence of Guarder conscription. You’re excused until your shift begins in two hours.”
“Thank you, sir. Uh, sir?”
Perrin looked up grudgingly to see Thorne appearing to be sincerely concerned about something. “Yes?”
“Do you think I’m ready? I mean, ready to lead the Edge contingency in the offensive?”
This boy just won’t quit, Perrin thought. Now he’s trying to appeal to the authority he just tried to manipulate. He looks almost pathetic. It suits him.
Despite Perrin’s eagerness to get rid of the captain, he decided he could spare a few moments in leisurely amusement. “No. Absolutely not.”
By the way Thorne flinched, he hadn’t expected that answer.
Perrin leaned back in his chair. It was good to see the boy squirm. “You have no experience and no contact with Guarders. Have you ever even taken a life, Thorne?”
He tried to sound confident in his answer. “No, sir. But I know how.” The squirm gave him away.
“It’s one thing in the practice arena,” Perrin said. “It’s quite another in real life.”
“How old were you the first time?” Squirm. “When you and Karna had your first engagement?”
It was no longer amusing. Diplomacy again. Dragged unwillingly to the common ground.
“I was almost twenty-nine. Lieutenant Karna was twenty-three—your age. I’d been a captain for nearly six years, but it was the first real opportunity I had to prove myself.”
Thorne nodded. “I want to be ready, sir. The exercise with Zenos went well yesterday, I believe. You’ll have to ask the new sergeant major what he thinks, though. I want to prove myself to you. I respect your opinion, sir, as much as I respected your father’s.”
Perrin couldn’t suppress his groan. There was only so much a person could take this early in the morning.
Thorne bit his lower lip, unsure of how to read the colonel’s pained expression.
Perrin had to get rid of him before he became fully nauseated. “Thank you, Thorne. That will be all.”
---
After midday meal Sergeant Major Shem Zenos jogged up the stairs of the command tower. He nodded at Thorne who was talking with a corporal.
Thorne’s nod was so brief that Shem almost missed it. He chuckled to himself and knocked on the colonel’s door.
“Come in!”
Zenos stepped in and closed the door behind him. Perrin bobbed his head toward the wall. Shem winked, and while Perrin finished writing on a stack of pages, he walked over to the bookshelf, removed two large wads of cotton stashed in a hollowed out book, took them to the wall, and slid up the detailed map of Edge. Underneath were two fist-sized holes which, when filled with cotton, created a thorough dampening effect.
One of these days Captain Thorne would discover why some conversations in the tower were harder to listen in on than others.
Shem sat down in the chair across from Perrin.
“New jacket looks good, Shem.”
“I have you to thank for that.”
Perrin shook his head. “I’m not the one who’s exceeded recruiting goals every year for the past twelve years. And I’m not the one who’s consistently trained the most disciplined and talented soldiers in the world. You earned that new rank all by yourself, soldier, and you’re the youngest man to ever do it. You’re practically a general. There’s only one rank higher—Command Sergeant Major, equivalent to High General—and that was bestowed only once, during the Great War. Since it likely it won’t ever be again, I can’t help but wonder what you will do with yourself in the army for the next thirty years.”
Shem shrugged meekly. “Keep you out of trouble, I guess.”
“And I’m sure that’s precisely what some men in Idumea hope you’ll do,” said Perrin. “That new rank’s really your reward for controlling me this past year. You realize that, don’t you?”
Again Shem shrugged.
Perrin smiled at his friend’s modesty. “How was your afternoon yesterday?”
“Not as exciting as yours, I understand,” Shem chuckled.
Perrin sat back in his chair. “Idumea’s following me. If that jam were caused by anyone else besides that timid old rector . . .”
“Well, my afternoon was quite successful, as you saw in that report. The men seem eager and ready, we tried all the patterns you detailed, and had no problems executing any of them. On a larger scale it should be quite effective.”
/> “Good. Now, what I really need to know is,” he lowered his voice and glanced briefly at the wall, “how did our little Thorney friend out there do?”
“I hate to admit it, Perrin, but he did well. I was hoping he’d be a complete disaster, but when the pressure was on—even though it was pretend pressure—the men listened to him, and he thought well on his feet. I’m sorry I have nothing worse to report. I tried to make things difficult for him, really I did.”
Perrin chuckled. “I’m sure you did. Thank you for your attempts. Yordin wanted a report. I think Gari’s a little concerned about leading so many untested men. I’m going to recommend that Fadh be out there bringing up the rear. No need for him to sit with Karna and me warming our backsides in the tents.”
“Good idea,” Shem nodded. “I’m a little worried as well. But how else will they ever be tested?”
“At least you, Rigoff, and some of the older officers will be in the field with Yordin. That makes me feel a little more confident.” Perrin slapped the desk lightly. Thinking about Yordin always made him do that. “So, everyone will be back here in two days with their reports. Shem, I’m telling you this now because I want you to be prepared. I will call for the attack three days later.”
Shem’s eyebrows rose. “You don’t think there are children in Moorland?”
“No. I just feel the answer’s no. But there is something there that needs to be taken care of as soon as possible.”
Shem nodded, but it seemed to Perrin that he was a bit uncertain. “You think you’ll be ready?” his new sergeant major asked.
“The forces are ready. We’re wasting time, every day. Who knows what the Guarders are planning. It needs to happen now.”
Shem thought for a moment. “Maybe I should restate my question. Perrin, do you think you are ready? The past season you’ve done so well, but being so near the action . . . you may even come in contact with a retreating Guarder, and I’m concerned that—”
“No, Shem,” said Perrin with as much determination as he could express. “It must happen now. We can’t wait. I know that, of a surety.”
The thoughts had been pouring into his mind for several days and nights. Timing was most important, but Perrin had no idea why. However, he saw it clearly in his mind, even the date when the offensive should take place: the 59th Day of Planting Season. The information came to him in a steady, calm manner so he was sure it was inspiration from the Creator.
“And it’s not my old paranoia talking, Shem, I promise. I’m feeling quite solid, and I even have a long run scheduled with Offra soon. Sounds like I’m doing well, right? So do you trust my judgment?”
Shem studied him for a moment before admitting, “Honestly, in the past year it’s been a little hard to do that. But lately you’re the same Perrin I’ve always trusted.”
“So who am I at this moment, Sergeant Major?”
“The commander of the offensive on Moorland, sir,” said the sergeant major cagily.
“And do you trust the commander?”
Shem offered a faint smile. “I really want to, Colonel. But to be honest, this sergeant major still thinks it’s too soon.”
Perrin leaned forward. “Then what about my brother? Does my brother believe I’m doing the right thing? Be my Guide, Shem.”
Shem’s smile turned downright embarrassed. “I could never be worthy to be a Guide, but Perrin—I’ve always trusted my brother.”
“Then I’m ready for the offensive, Shem. Are you?”
Shem nodded. “You keep yourself prepared, and I’ll make sure everyone is ready for the attack in five days.”
---
Later that evening Shem knocked on the back porch door of the Shins’ home using a rhythm—very unlike Thorne’s—that they would know it was him. A moment later the door opened and Mahrree beamed at him.
“Sorry to bother you so late, Mahrree,” Shem apologized as he stepped into the kitchen. “But I saw your light was on. Is Perrin still up?”
“No, he’s asleep,” Mahrree said. “Should I wake him?”
Shem scoffed. “Since when would I ask you to wake up Perrin when he’s sleeping soundly? No, it’s nothing too important. He wanted a report on movements east of Moorland, but I can just leave him a message on his desk.”
“It’s not bad news, is it?”
“No, actually quite good. Everything is quiet.”
“Good,” Mahrree sighed. “You know, I think Perrin overdid it today racing Lieutenant Offra. I’ve never seen him so worn out. I think he was trying to impress the younger men.”
Shem grinned, partly at the idea of Perrin running himself to exhaustion. “That’s what I heard, too. A sergeant told me they stumbled back to the fort pale and wheezing. I think poor Jon Offra overexerted himself, too. But they were also both smiling.”
Mahrree closed her eyes. “Shem, you have no idea how pleased I am to hear that he’s having fun again. Sounds so silly, but it’s so important.”
“Not silly at all. I agree. It’s wonderful to see him back to normal again. I need to get back to the fort. My shift’s not yet up—”
Mahrree took his arm. “Can you give me just a few minutes?”
He looked down at her small, soft hand on his muscled arm, and he tensed.
“I wanted your opinion: do you think he’s ready for this? Can Perrin handle being so close to the action? I know he won’t actually be in Moorland, but he’s going to see wounded and bloodshed and—” Her chin began to wobble.
Shem saw no other option but to put a comforting arm around her. “I’m worried about him too. He may witness soldiers that appear to him to be manifestations of his nightmares. But I can’t convince him to delay this.”
Mahrree rested her head against his chest and sniffed. “Nor can I. But I’ve also noticed he seems quite himself again. Still, I can’t help but worry.”
“I know,” Shem said, pulling back from her and removing his arm from her shoulders. “But he’s the colonel, and he’s in command, and we just need to trust him again. Well, I shouldn’t keep you any longer—”
“Shem,” she gripped his arm again, “before you hurry off unnecessarily, just one more thing—this has been on my mind for some time, but . . . I haven’t thanked you yet. Not properly.”
“For what?” he said, a lump building in his throat.
She rolled her eyes. Her green-gray eyes that, for the first time in nearly a year, were sparkling again. She focused them solely on him. “For what? For this past year! Shem, you’ve done everything for us!” Her grip on his arm tightened, and she stepped closer.
Shem held his breath.
“For so many nights, for so many days, for staying by our side no matter what he did. For being his best friend—”
Shem tried to swallow down the lump.
“—for comforting our children . . . for comforting me.” She released his arm and took his face in both of her hands.
Shem froze.
She looked at him with such sincerity, such sisterly love.
“I don’t know how we’ll ever be able to repay you. You’re truly one of the greatest men I’ve ever had the privilege to know. I hope someday we can be worthy of your friendship.” She stood up on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”
Shem nodded dismissively and said, “I really need to go—”
She released his face and smirked. “You can’t take it, can you?”
“Pardon?”
She folded her arms and glared good-naturedly at him. “Someone thanking you? You’re too humble to accept even gratitude, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, that’s me.” His chuckle was strained as he said, “Mr. Humility. Good night, Mahrree.”
He turned abruptly and jogged out the back garden, Mahrree’s chuckles following him. He hopped over the fence, took the reins of his waiting horse, and mounted it without looking back to see if his best friend’s wife was still watching from the back porch. He rode up to the fort, returned his horse
, jogged up to the command tower, left the note he promised he would on Perrin’s desk, told the sergeant on duty that he was ending his shift early for the night since the forests east of Moorland were quiet, then headed straight for the washing rooms. He undressed and stood in a stall underneath one of the showering pipes, turning on only the cold water. He closed his eyes and let the chill pour down on him, waiting for it to work.
Someone took the stall next to him. “Good evening, sir,” said one of the newest recruits. “Sir, that looks cold. Is the warm water pipe clogged again?”
“No, Private,” said Shem, not opening his eyes. “Plenty of warm water for you to wash off the day’s grime. I just prefer the cold.”
“Really, sir?” chirped the eager-to-learn soldier. “Do all sergeant majors prefer cold water?”
Shem didn’t want to acknowledge the ridiculous question, but he felt the young man waiting for his response. “Only the ones trying to be their best, Private. Especially before turning in for the night. It’s . . . restful. Distracting. Takes one’s mind away from other thoughts.”
“Interesting, sir.” He sounded worried.
“Been doing it off and on for fifteen years now, Private.”
“And it really works to relax you, sir?”
Shem sighed and opened his eyes. “Actually, no. Never has worked.” He reached up to turn off the water. “But someday, it just might. Good night, Private.” Shem grabbed a thick cloth, wrapped it around himself, and left the stall.
The private looked up at the water pipes, shrugged, turned on the cold, and shivered for five seconds before shutting it off.
---
Perrin rolled up the map and tucked it under his arm, ready to head for home. Everything was prepared—perfectly, he’d dare say—for tomorrow, and every last man was enthusiastic about the army’s first offensive.
Except for one.
Perrin sighed when he saw him come in his door. “And what do you want?”
Shem closed the door behind him. “Perrin, just tell me one last time: are you absolutely sure about tomorrow?”
“Yes, Shem,” he tried to say patiently. “Has anyone ever told you you’re like a mother hen?”
His friend began to smile. “Well, not exactly—”
“It’s NOT a compliment!”
Shem’s smile disappeared.
“You’re sounding like Mahrree now,” Perrin said. “You’ve been talking with her, haven’t you?” he accused with a twinkle in his eyes. “Alone? I can always tell, you know.”
Shem held his hands up in surrender. “She talked to me about some concerns about you.”
Perrin groaned. “Enough already. Would you two just trust me again? I’ve been put in charge of this endeavor, and I promise you, I take my orders only from the Creator.”
Shem dared to smile again. “You know, I actually believe that.”
Chapter 13 ~ “And then by tomorrow, we’ll have some very fascinating results.”