In Idumea it was impossible to not hear the news. Everyone was yelling it in the Administrative Headquarters and at the garrison a few miles away. And soon, everyone in the great city was shouting, “Did you hear what happened in Moorland?”
Chairman Nicko Mal was sure the large sealed folder that the messenger from Quake rushed to him late in the afternoon was supposed to be confidential. But as the corporal shouted through the vast halls of the Administrators’ Headquarters it was apparent no one had told him that. “The commanders in the north have killed all the Guarders in Moorland! The Guarders are gone!”
His fellow messenger was also just as naively vocal as he rode shouting through the garrison to deliver his copy of the report from Major Fadh to High General Cush.
Mal heard later that there was a crowd of officers and soldiers waiting impatiently outside the High General’s door. Mal believed it, because when he finally opened his office door—after staring dazedly for many minutes at Fadh’s report—he was met by Administrators, assistants, workers, and citizens who happened to be in the building. They clogged the hall like starved mutts waiting for a bone.
The Chairman had to publically rejoice for the wild success of the army and the increased safety of his people.
But Nicko felt as if he’d been punched in the gut.
He couldn’t quite catch his breath for the better part of an hour, and desperately wished Dr. Brisack would return a day early from his “fishing trip” to tell him what to think about this unprecedented failure.
Success.
Whatever.
In the meantime, the world sat panting at his door.
Once he finally opened it, he knew there was only one possible response. “Citizens of Idumea and the world—rejoice! A most remarkable thing has happened in the north . . .”
---
“But it’s a disaster!” Qayin Thorne snarled at him hours later.
Nick massaged his temples, having seen others do it and wondering what it was supposed to accomplish. His office at the Administrative Headquarters had grown dark with the evening, but he’d lit only two candles hoping the dim light would calm the pounding in his head. Next he’d need to find a way to slow the erratic beating of his heart.
“Do you realize that?” The general leaned over his desk.
Mal slowly looked up at him with a glare that could have crumbled a boulder. “You really don’t think I don’t know the severity of the situation, Thorne? Dead—267. Missing and presumed dead—more than 40. Men we’ve been training for years, new recruits we brought on for the onslaught of Edge using Brisack’s mixture—you think I don’t realize the scale of the problem? Hmm?”
Thorne stood back up and straightened his jacket. “So what are you going to do?” and he added a respectful, “Sir.”
“I’m waiting for Brisack,” Mal told him, abandoning the useless head rubbing. Instead he took a deep breath and blew it out of his mouth. Brisack had told him to breathe slowly in instances like this, but there was no easing of the stabbing pain growing in his chest and radiating down his arm. At home he had some of that brew of the doctor’s, but he should have kept some in his office.
“Brisack will have a better report. We had around 330 men, from our best estimates. That’s what he was to discover, too: a full count. Along with doing other things,” he added in a whisper.
Qayin rolled his eyes impatiently. “Mal, you have to face the fact that Dr. Brisack is dead. One of those 267, probably blown apart by his own brilliant explosion,” he added with disgusted head shaking. “He’s gone.”
“He wouldn’t dare,” Mal said stoically. “He alone knew the entire formula, but was going to train some men up there in it. Many would know it now. According to the sizes of the blasts described by Fadh, the good doctor got the formula right.” Mal tried massaging his hands while his eyes darted all over his desk as if in search of something he knew he’d never find. “Exploding key sections of Edge can still happen, mark my words. When Brisack returns tomorrow, he’ll bring me the details—oh yes, he will—and we’ll begin again. I have complete faith in him. You shouldn’t doubt him, Qayin.”
General Thorne leaned across the desk, forcing an uncharacteristically timid Mal to look into his eyes. “Chairman, it’s not that I doubt the Administrator of Family Life. It’s just that I doubt that he’s still alive.”
Mal slammed his fist on the desk. “He’s gone fishing, Thorne! He returns tomorrow!”
“Just like Gadiman?” Thorne pressed.
Something caught in Mal’s throat, making it impossible for him to respond. That is, if he knew how to respond.
“Gadiman’s been missing for a year now,” Thorne pointed out, and Mal was startled to realize it had been so long— “and are you still expecting they’ll find him in his office under all those crates? You know, he has a few loyal assistants who have been collecting more names and information that could feed your so-called studies, but you’ve been too obsessed with one colonel in the north to notice. Yet interestingly, all of your preoccupation with Shin hasn’t resulted in his demise, but our own!” Thorne leaned in so close that Mal couldn’t back out of his spitting range. “Are you sure you really know what you’re doing with all of this, Nicko? Or is it time for some new leadership?”
There’s only so many stabs in so many sensitive places that one man can allow. Mal snapped. “General, I am thinking of some new leadership, in place of YOU! Get out, before I strip you of command—all of them!”
General Thorne stood up, deliberately slowly, and cocked his head. “Ask yourself this: How did the northern forts know about what was going on in Moorland? Who tipped them off? I believe you’re losing control of the world, Chairman. Gadiman’s long dead—it’s obvious. Get over it because someone, somewhere, knows about your secrets and is talking, maybe even to Shin himself.”
“Not Zenos the Quiet Man,” Mal insisted. “He didn’t know about this.”
Thorne shrugged. “You need a new Administrator of Loyalty with a heavy fist to pound the truth out of a few people. Unfortunately I’m already overloaded with work or I’d volunteer for the job. Then again,” Thorne said with such smugness that it should have been a crime, “if you keep letting things slide, maybe I’ll just take over your positions—all of them.”
Mal didn’t rub his aching chest until Thorne had slammed the door behind him.
“Slag, I hate that man. Why couldn’t he have been in Moorland?”
---
The Cat, as the tiny creature that invaded the Shin household was immediately not named, followed Perrin everywhere. It was supposed to be Jaytsy’s, but as soon as Perrin appeared The Cat ran to him and climbed up his leg to perch on his shoulder, digging into Perrin’s flesh with his—Shem identified the gender—tiny claws that left needle-like gashes. Every night in bed Perrin found himself pulling the kitten off his chest. He tried once leaving it out of the room and closing the door, but its constant high-pitched meowing disturbed him more than its purring.
And in a way, Perrin admitted on the fourth night, the purring did have a rather calming quality about it.
And the kitten purred only for him. And it was needy.
And he was in charge of seeing to the needs of those in the village . . .
In the end it took only a week for the kitten to conquer the colonel. The world was completely upside down, Perrin realized, because he now willingly owned a cat.
---
There were two chairs in a dark office of an unlit building, but only one man. A week had passed since the report arrived about the incident in Moorland, and still that chair remained empty.
Nicko Mal stared dully at it. In his hand was a note from Mrs. Brisack, begging to know if the Chairman had heard anything from her husband.
Mal tapped his fingers on the armrest.
He leaned forward aggressively.
He sat back worriedly.
Then he crumpled the message and dropped it on the floor on top of Major Fadh’
s report.
Dr. Brisack was never late for a meeting before. The world was completely upside down now.
And Nicko needed two new Administrators.
---
Perrin becoming a cat owner wasn’t the only unusual thing that happened in the next few weeks. Two new Administrators were named in an announcement that was delivered first to the fort, then the next day to the public in general.
Mahrree and Perrin read and reread the contents of the message, trying to find hidden meanings between the lines.
“Doesn’t seem right,” Mahrree said on her fourth time through it. “Gadiman’s been ill for over a year? And only now they’ve decided to replace him?”
“I don’t think he was ever ‘ill’,” Perrin told her quietly. “I suspect he’s dead. He wasn’t at my hearing, and I wonder if anyone had seen him since. I asked Thorne about it once. He said he hadn’t seen Gadiman the last two times he was in Idumea, and usually he met with him as a formality during Command School.”
“Thorne would meet with Gadiman?” Mahrree asked, immediately suspicious. “That doesn’t seem right, either.”
“That’s what I thought, but he wouldn’t say anything more about it, nor did I want to continue the conversation any longer than necessary. But Brisack—that’s even more mysterious.”
“Presumed missing in a fishing trip,” Mahrree reread the words. “He never told us he was coming, did he?”
Perrin shook his head. “It says only that he was heading north for a holiday four weeks ago and hadn’t been heard from since.”
Mahrree went pale and she grabbed her husband’s arm. “Perrin, I just remembered—at The Dinner last year, didn’t he say they were experimenting with sulfur? I thought he also mentioned something about Moorland, about wanting to get new samples.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“Something awful. Perrin, what if Brisack was in Moorland? During your attack? What if it was him experimenting with that black powdery substance? You said it smelled sulfur-based.”
Perrin scoffed. “Mahrree! We’re talking about Dr. Brisack. The man wasn’t perfect, but you liked him, remember?”
Mahrree didn’t answer that. How much could she approve of a man who wanted reports on how her husband was responding to secret testing?
Perrin broke into her thoughts with, “Why would Brisack be experimenting with Guarders anyway?”
Mahrree shrugged. While she didn’t approve of Brisack’s meddling, she did have to acknowledge that he’d been most helpful in sending the sedation, and seemed earnest in his frequent messages to know how Mahrree was doing although she never answered the nosy old man’s queries.
“I don’t know what I was thinking,” she said dismissively. “It just seems that . . . well, would you have been able to recognize any of the bodies at the crater?”
“No,” he told her gruffly. “Burned beyond recognition.”
Mahrree winced and nodded. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. Do you know anything about this new Administrator of Loyalty, Mr. Genev? Is he as paranoid as Gadiman was?”
“Evaluating paranoia is such a subjective thing,” Perrin sighed with more experience than he wanted to admit. “Genev was his assistant for quite some time, so things should be about the same for the Office of Loyalty.”
Mahrree bit her lip. “Is that good or bad?”
“As long as there is an office,” Perrin said, instinctively glancing around him for a red coat and white ruffles that might be peering into their gathering room windows, “it’s bad.”
Mahrree fidgeted with worry. “Then what about Brisack’s replacement?”
Perrin shook his head. “I don’t know anything about him. Worked in Brisack’s office for a while, but I don’t remember meeting him.”
“Hmm,” Mahrree pondered. “Perhaps all of these changes are why we haven’t heard any response from the Administrators about your attack on Moorland.”
“Or maybe they’ve forgotten all about me,” Perrin smiled.
---
“You CANNOT be serious!” General Thorne bellowed at the Chairman.
Nicko merely raised his eyebrows and looked over at the High General to see if he would rein in his hound.
“Qayin,” his father-in-law said consolingly, “think about it. What else can be done? Besides, all of the Administrators have agreed.”
“You could—” Qayin faltered, gesturing madly. “Or, or, or . . . you could, could—” His hands continued to flap uselessly as if somehow they would smack randomly into a different solution.
Mal clasped his hands calmly in front of him. He had drained the entire bottled heart concoction he acquired from an associate of Brisack’s that morning, just in anticipation of this meeting. “You see the problem, don’t you? He’s been nothing but loyal. So loyal that he even violated his probation to save your son. How exactly are we to punish loyalty, General Thorne?”
Qayin scoffed, gestured, started and stopped and foamed in exasperation, but he had no response. Eventually he slumped in his chair. “So he just gets off?”
Mal rolled his eyes very slowly, to make sure General Thorne got the message. “It’s an excellent strategy until we get a new one.”
High General Cush cleared his throat. “I’m not hearing this, you understand. I’m just here to give my approval, and to also tell General Thorne that he’ll deliver this news personally.” Cush absent-mindedly rubbed his chest.
Mal wondered if the High General had his own supply of heart tonic. He was pale enough to need some.
Thorne glared at his father-in-law. “Me? Why me?”
Cush chuckled in his normal way, which today sounded as natural as an ox laughing. “Because I’m simply not up to it.” A bead of sweat formed on his broad forehead. “And because your going there will demonstrate to the world the honor and veneration the army has for the colonel, just as the rest of the world feels for him. And you’re also to check on my grandson. Thirty stitches? Make sure they sewed him up correctly. Nothing . . . dangling out.”
Thorne pursed his lips in thought. “Lemuel’s been exceptionally slow in a few things. I do want to see what’s happening, especially with the Shin girl. Maybe if I can get her alone—”
“Even I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Mal said with a squint. He knew very little about teenage girls, but even he could tell that Thorne’s idea was worse than saddling a skunk. “Lemuel has to win the Shin girl over himself when the time is right. Something like that,” he waved vaguely.
Thorne grumbled. “Says Versula as well. So,” he exhaled moodily, “I get to go to the Edge of the World, then.”
The Chairman shook his head. “I don’t understand you, Qayin. You have everything: second in command of the army, and at a relatively young age. Possession of the third largest home in Idumea. Rank of general, which is one higher than him. A son who’s the youngest captain in the army. And you have the ear of the most powerful man in the world—me. What more could you want?”
Thorne glared. “Him. Dead.”
“No you don’t,” Mal smiled narrowly. “What you want is him, tormented.”
Cush stood up abruptly, quite the feat for a man of his diameter, and huffed to catch his breath from the exertion. “I’m not listening anymore, you know that. Qayin, you’re going to Edge, and you’re going to put on a face fitting for a man whose subordinate has just handed him a most welcome victory. I’ll see you at the garrison.” Cush wheezed and left the office, slamming the door behind him.
“It’s about time he left,” Mal said, watching the door. “If he keeps up this interference, he’ll have to take the oaths. I don’t understand why he’s so opposed to that. Misplaced loyalties to a dead friend, I suppose.”
He shifted his earnest gaze to General Thorne. “Qayin, if Shin’s dead, he’s no fun, and we’ll need to find a new falcon. But there simply isn’t one as complex and intriguing as him. To be honest, I rather miss Relf. I miss his exasperation and his cluelessn
ess, and the fact that I knew exactly what was causing his trouble but he never could figure it out. There was great pleasure in watching his frustration. You really don’t want that to end so soon with Perrin. I certainly don’t. We’re laying a new foundation to test him with, and while I don’t entirely know what kind of structure will come of it, I promise you that it will be most magnificent and worth the wait. And you, Qayin Thorne, will have a front row seat to it all. You will watch Perrin Shin squirm and shrivel.”
Thorne slowly nodded his head. “I hadn’t seen it in that way,” he said thoughtfully. “The reports from Lemuel last year had been most entertaining about the colonel and his madness. Rather miss hearing about his rants.”
“Give me some time, Qayin. You’ll be entertained again,” Mal assured. “When a man has fallen to such depths, it takes very little to push him back into it again. We just have to prepare the right hole. In the meantime, you’ll go to Edge, and you’ll smile at the colonel because you’re on top of the world, and you know that soon he’ll be in yet another pit.”
“One where I stand above him and spit on his head?” Thorne asked.
“Bucketfuls,” Mal promised.
---
Knock-knock . . . knock-knock-knock.
Wonderful, Perrin sighed to himself. He’s mobile.
He stretched his fingers before saying, a bit drearily, “Come in.”
The door opened not too slowly, not too quickly, and there stood a pale Captain Thorne.
“Should you be up and in uniform?” Perrin asked, hoping against hope the captain was disobeying the surgeon’s orders. But on his desk was the report of which men were fit to return to duty that day, and Thorne was on the top. Apparently Stitch was as eager to release him as Perrin was that he should stay in the hospital wing.
“I am, sir!” Thorne said proudly. “I need to take it easy still, but I promise it won’t affect any of my performance, sir.”
Which performance? Perrin nearly said out loud. The one where you pretend to be an obedient and diligent officer? Or the one where you try to find ways to undermine me?
“I’m sure you won’t, Captain,” he said, turning again to the work on his desk.
“Sir?” Thorne ventured, “May I say something?”
Perrin gritted his teeth and looked up. “Of course, Captain.”
“About Moorland—”
Don’t say it, Perrin thought to himself. Don’t you dare thank me for saving you from that Guarder. Don’t you dare remind me—
“I think you made the correct decision, sir,” Thorne said. “Breaking your probation. Your presence secured our victory. The world is safer because of you.”
Oh, the little manipulator was clever. Now Perrin was going to have to say the words. There was no other response he could offer that would be appropriate.
“Thank you, Captain,” Perrin nearly choked.
“I’m certain, sir, that when the garrison responds to our success, they’ll be cognizant of the fact that you had no other alternative but to behave in the manner that the situation demanded,” said Thorne in fluent army speak. “I even wrote to my father and grandfather affirming that, sir.”
Oh, the words had to be said again!
“Thank you,” Perrin said as dully as he dared. “Dismissed.”
---
Later that day a decision from Idumea came in the form of a little man in a red messenger suit. He brought the news that General Qayin Thorne was on his way to personally congratulate the Fort at Edge on the success of the offensive.
Everyone in the forward command office had stood in silent terror at the news.
Five seconds later every man except Colonel Shin was running frantically down the stairs to deliver to the word that the fort needed to be prepared for an official visit the next day.
Perrin merely nodded at the message and folded it again. “Well, then. Soon we’ll see, won’t we,” he murmured to himself. “Will I be a general, a lieutenant, or a guard at the Edge of Idumea estates? It’ll only be for a year, until we have proof that all of the Guarders are gone, and the forts are irrelevant. Maybe.”
Over dinner Perrin broke the news to his family.
“Time to get a new jacket, Father?” Peto said with a grin.
Mahrree sighed. “Maybe one with a single lieutenant’s braid?”
“They wouldn’t do that to him!” Peto declared. “How could they? And why else would General Thorne come all this way?”
“To check on his son, I think,” Perrin said. “Make sure he’s healing well, that everything else is progressing as he thinks it should.” He glanced at his daughter who had stopped eating.
“Well,” Mahrree said decisively. “We just won’t fret about it! Nothing we can do. We’ll just accept what happens, and trust in the Creator. Yes. Fine. Will be a pleasant visit. No doubt.”
“Very convincing, Mahrree.”
---
Colonel Shin was ready the next day for the arrival of General Thorne. Everyone was ready. The fort was spotless. Even the dirt on the stable floors had been smartly raked. The men were nervous, which made them each stand a little taller. Captain Thorne was so agitated in the command tower that when Zenos accidentally dropped the long knife he used to pry open a stuck window, Lemuel drew his sword in readiness.
Perrin rather enjoyed it all.
He’d never been on this side before. He didn’t really care about what would happen that day, and found that thought surprisingly freeing. He’d waited before for the worst the hierarchy could dish out. And the worst was—well, while the past year had been bad, it was only temporary. He realized he could handle anything temporarily.
He sat serenely at his desk reviewing reports, not even looking out the window like the tense corporal who was filing the papers. Perrin was sure the young man would alert him when someone was coming, and he was right. He hardly recognized the high-pitched squeak as human until he looked up at the scared soldier.
“Blue banner, sir! Far south tower. He’s been sighted approaching Edge!”
Perrin nodded sedately. “Good. Now gather up all the papers you dropped and re-file them please. We still have a bit of time.”
With another squeak of compliance the soldier was on the floor.
A few moments later Captain Thorne stood at the door. “Sir?”
“You’d like to meet your father at the gate, Captain?”
“Yes sir, if you don’t mind?”
The colonel shrugged. “Bring him up here when he’s done with his inspection. I’ve got a few things to wrap up first.” He didn’t add, Before I’m demoted and you’re placed in command over me.
Perrin didn’t need any warning to know when General Thorne arrived at the command tower a while later. The sound of scuffling boots and frantic calls for “Attention!” were heard throughout the building. Perrin slowly rose from his desk, walked casually to the door of his office, and stood in the forward command office just as General Thorne jogged up the stairs.
He gave Colonel Shin a surprisingly warm and generous smile. Perrin concluded that Qayin must have practiced it at The Dinner two moons ago.
“Perrin, wonderful to see you again! This place is a marvel. Your father didn’t do it justice in his descriptions. Absolutely amazing. We should be replicating this fort design all over the world.”
With a hand gloved in black, General Thorne pumped Colonel Shin’s hand vigorously, and Perrin wondered for a moment, who was this cheerful man wearing Qayin Thorne’s face and uniform? Only a year ago he held a sword to Perrin’s head. The look in his eyes at that time begged for any reason to thrust.
Perrin put on his Dinner smile as well. “General, I hope your trip up here was pleasant. Good time of year to be traveling.”
“Very pleasant, thank you.” He continued to smile in a manner that made Perrin think of cheese left out in the sun: hard and a bit sweaty. “High General Cush was hoping to accompany me, but he’s been unwell. His health has been s
lowing him down, but he sends his regards. Perrin, I never realized how remarkable the scenery here is. Up close the mountains are almost worth looking at. No wonder Lemuel was eager to return. He looks good and his side is healing nicely. Been treated well here, I can see. We could hardly keep him in Idumea. I suppose he finds the north most appealing.”
Captain Thorne stood behind his father, still stiffly at attention but beaming.
“Well,” Perrin tried to think of the best way to put it, “Edge wouldn’t be the same without him, sir.” Something caught his eye, just above General Thorne’s name patch. It was a pin of gold, about half the size of his thumb, the shape of which stopped Perrin from breathing.
The general noticed. “Beautiful craftsmanship, isn’t it? Best goldsmith in Idumea made it. Mal has commissioned a few more to be presented to all future generals in the army.”
His next sentence was completely unnecessary.
“It’s a mountain lion.”
Perrin barely nodded as he stared at the dangling object which was the outline of a prowling mountain lion. Its front paw was raised in anticipation, its shoulders hunched in the same posture of The Cat when he was about to pounce on a floating piece of fluff.
“Interesting,” he said, hoping he sounded uninterested.
Qayin continued his mucky cheese smile. “A symbol, to remind the citizenry.” His voice was far too jovial, and it was clear he wasn’t used to doing jovial. “After all, mountain lions are known for their courage, their tenacity—”
Their ability to sneak up and bite your throat out, Perrin supplied to himself. He glanced behind Thorne to see Zenos standing at the top of the stairs, his eyes slightly narrowed in uneasiness.
“—fitting reminders for the world that the Army of Idumea is here to protect their interests,” Qayin finished.
Perrin heard the multiple layers of meaning in Thorne’s proclamation. “How interesting,” he said again.
General Thorne slapped him genially on the back.
“And gloves now, too, sir?” Perrin asked as he watched Thorne meticulously pull off the thin, form-fitting black gloves. Perhaps he wore them only for patting Perrin on the back.
“Of course!” Qayin said, again with too much jolliness. “Gives a more complete look to the uniform and keeps one’s hands clean.”
From what kind of filth? Perrin nearly blurted.
Qayin Thorne pocketed his gloves, after fastidiously folding them. “Let’s go sit down in your office, Perrin. We have lots to talk about. Captain Thorne, please join us.”
“Yes, sir!” the captain chirped.
Perrin held out his arm for the two Thornes to go into his office. One brief facial tic told Zenos to sit down at the large front desk and be ready for anything. The cotton was still in the bookshelf, so eavesdropping would be easy. Colonel Shin followed the Thornes into the office and shut the door.
Zenos sat down at the large desk, motioned to the other soldiers to get back to work, then leaned back in the chair, picked up a manual whose title he wouldn’t remember later, and rocked the chair back to lean against the wall underneath Hycymum’s purple and yellow Edge banner.
---
Mahrree could hardly concentrate on school that day. Twice one of her students set fire to another student’s trouser leg and she didn’t notice until he did a stomping dance in the aisle.
Peto worriedly watched his mother during midday meal. He couldn’t concentrate either, especially once they saw the blue banner go up at the tower nearest the school.
“Think he’s going to be in trouble?” Peto asked.
“He’s always in trouble,” Mahrree muttered as she fussed with her sandwich.
When they left the school in a fast march home, Jaytsy caught up to them. “Any news yet?”
“No,” Mahrree said. “But I don’t expect any until dinner.”
“Or maybe earlier?” Jaytsy said as they turned on the alleyway to the house.
Perrin’s latest horse, a white gelding, was tethered to the fence.
Mahrree stopped.
She had a habit of running through her mind every scenario she could imagine, then anticipating how she’d react when it happened. Yet it always seemed to be the unanticipated option that occurred, leaving her shocked at the outcome despite her hours of mental preparation. Some day she would learn to quit planning ahead. No scenario that she’d anticipated had him home early.
She started walking again. “Maybe he’s just there to check on The Cat.”
“Of course,” Peto said dismally.
When they entered the kitchen, Perrin turned partially in surprise, his back still to them.
“Oh, I thought you’d still be a few minutes.”
“Why are you here?” Mahrree asked, her tone full of dread.
“To check on The Cat,” he told her.
“Uh-huh,” Peto said.
“Well, I got one right,” Mahrree said more to herself. “No really, why?”
Perrin’s arm tried to drop subtly to his side, and a small mew fell to the ground. His forced smile was outlined in pain as The Cat climbed back up his trouser’s leg. “I have news, and I need to go back to the fort soon. I just needed to get . . . an early dinner.”
As the family sat down apprehensively at the table, Peto bounced in his chair. “Anything about Idumea?”
“Yes,” Perrin said. “We’re not going there.” A purring sound began from his lap.
Mahrree and Jaytsy sighed in relief.
Peto just sighed.
“I’ve not been promoted to general,” Perrin continued, “nor have I been demoted. It seems the army, upon the advice of the Administrators, has decided that before a colonel can be promoted to general he must serve as a full colonel for three years, unless there are extenuating circumstances, which circumstances have yet, of course, to be determined. In any case, I have nearly two more years until I’m eligible to become a general.”
“That’s trash!” Peto yelled.
“That’s politics,” Perrin clarified. “Same thing, though.”
Mahrree breathed easier every moment.
“There’s more,” he added with a smile. “My probation has been lifted. I am to be awarded a new medal for services above and beyond the call of duty, or something wordy like that. I get another Officer of the Year proclamation which I’ll just slide next to the other ones on the shelf. And—” he paused for effect, “—tonight the fort is to be officially renamed. That’s why I’m here now. I need to change into my dress uniform although I don’t really see the need. You all need to be dressed up as well. Sorry.”
“Renamed?” Mahrree asked.
“Yes,” he sighed. “Fort Shin.”
“So they’re promoting the fort instead of you?” Jaytsy clarified.
“You’re getting smarter every day, Jayts,” Perrin pointed at her. “This way I’m ‘honored’ without anyone having to actually do, concede, admit, sacrifice, or change anything significant. They just tack a few meaningless letters up on a wall, some self-important men say some forgettable words, a few people cheer without knowing why but do so because it’s expected, and then everyone decides they’re satisfied. That, Peto, is politics.”
“Well, I’m satisfied!” Mahrree said, putting her head on the table in relief. She lifted it back up. “So nothing’s really changed, has it?”
“Well, there’s a new symbol for the generals,” Perrin said, trying not to clench his teeth. “Thorne wore it proudly on his uniform just about his name patch. A pin in the shape of a mountain lion.”
“What, a big kitty cat?” Peto sneered. “Ooh, scary!”
Mahrree didn’t say anything, except met her husband’s careful gaze that said much more.
Jaytsy looked nervously at her parents.
“Some believe that cats are highly underrated,” Perrin told his children. He and Mahrree had never told them of Qayin Thorne admiring a cat’s ability to torment a wounded falcon trapped in a barn, nor that h
e used the story to explain to Shem the way Guarders saw the world. “And a mountain lion? There’s no deadlier animal, Peto. It can sneak up behind you and take you out with one swat of its claws and one bite of its jaws. You shouldn’t trust it, even when its purring.
“There is something more,” Perrin continued. “There’s no sign of Guarder activity anywhere. Not even in Trades or the gold mine. They must have moved up north, all of them. General Thorne has been watching, but so far—nothing. We may have finally dealt them a death blow, once and for all.”
Mahrree was surprised at his tone—it was much heavier than she expected. Just a few nights ago he was bouncing happily like a teenage boy in a knife shop, but something today had sucked all of the potential joy out of him. She was just about to ask what was wrong when Peto spoke.
“So what will they need any generals for? Or even an army?”
“Well, Peto,” Mahrree started when she realized some of her husband’s old brooding had returned, “if we no longer have an enemy to fight, then your father can go on and do whatever he wants to.”
She watched Perrin closely, who was staring at a knothole in the wood and likely scratching The Cat’s head judging by the movement of his arm.
“Would they just get rid of the forts?” Peto said, shocked.
Perrin finally sighed. “I spoke to General Thorne about that. I suggested that if, in a year, there’s no sign of Guarders that maybe we can relax a few things, reduce the army, maybe even let people explore the forests and beyond.”
Jaytsy sat up taller. “Why . . . that’d be amazing!”
Her father only shrugged at that. “Yes, it would be. But that’s not how Thorne and Cush and the garrison see things.”
Mahrree squirmed in her chair, discouraged to see her husband so low again. “Why? What did Qayin Thorne say?”
Perrin looked up at her, his eyes clouded. “He said, ‘Why in the world’—and he used language a bit uglier than that, but I promised I wouldn’t use that word in the house again—‘Why would we want to do anything to reduce the army and its influence?’ Then he said something that I don’t believe, but apparently everyone in the garrison does: ‘Colonel Shin, there are always more enemies.’”
Mahrree felt something inside recoil, and noticed the worried looks in her children’s faces as well. Perplexed, she asked, “But Perrin . . . what would that other enemy be?”
He shook his head slowly. “I guess that’s the real question now, isn’t it? Who are the mountain lions stalking today?”
---
Knock-knock . . . knock-knock-knock.
Perrin looked up at the roof and wondered how hard it’d be to construct an escape hatch. He could reach it if he stood on his desk.
“Come in.”
Captain Thorne opened the door and beamed. It was as genuine as the light of the moons: borrowed, from some other source. “Sir, I just wanted to be the first this morning to tell you how proud I am that your name now graces the walls of the fort where I serve.”
He was doing it again, trying to squeeze himself under Perrin’s wing to make himself appear so accommodating, so necessary, so important.
And worse, trying to make Perrin say those ingratiating words, thank you. There was immense power in someone thanking you that elevated the receiver of the thanks, and made the speaker of the words somewhat equal—no: somewhat subservient to whom he thanked.
But Perrin had a different strategy this time.
“I appreciate the sentiment, Thorne.”
He appreciated the falsity that was employed to make the captain seem sincere.
“I look forward to seeing you someday wear the label of general, sir,” Thorne added with a small smile. “And I imagine you may want to take a vacation for a time now that you’re no longer confined to Edge. I’ve checked the files and you rarely leave the fort. You have several weeks of leave available to you, sir. Perhaps, after such a long year, and with the threat of Guarders eliminated because of your exceptional leadership—”
Perrin really needed to find a way to keep his stomach from churning.
“—I wanted you to know that should you feel the desire to take Mrs. Shin somewhere for some well-deserved rest, I can certainly handle things here.”
Perrin rubbed his forehead. Smooth. Usher out the commander, take over the fort . . . at least Shem was always here. And since he was a sergeant major, they didn’t need to replace Beneff who, after weeks of searching, was still unaccounted for. They concluded he was lost in Moorland.
“I have no doubt you could handle things here,” Perrin said heavily. “However, I feel no need to leave. Edge is my home.”
Thorne shifted his position slightly. “Not that I’m trying to send you away, Colonel,” he simpered. “I just want you to know that you can rely on me, as second in command.”
There is was again. That reminder. As if someone suffering from the stomach flu needed reminding of his ailment. Was the stench not enough? And in this case, the stench was . . . lavender, today. Not even Hycymum smelled as flowery as this boy.
“Understood, Captain. Is there anything else?” Perrin asked in a tight tone.
“Well, yes, now that you mentioned it . . . is Miss Jaytsy enjoying the kitten?”
Anything to generate a conversation. Perrin knew the tactic: get the other side talking about something you have in common.
He realized just then that all of the officers took a few courses in negotiations, but never had they negotiated with Guarders. Perrin didn’t know why it never before occurred to him that all of the diplomacy classes were designed for officers to manipulate other soldiers and the citizenry.
He employed strategy number eight in avoiding a sticky question: ask a stickier one in response. “I’ve been wondering, Thorne—where exactly did that kitten come from? We don’t have cats in the compound.”
Thorne’s eyes lit up, as if he’d been waiting for the question. “Sir, that is a strange thing, isn’t it? Why, of all places, would a helpless creature be wandering around in such a dangerous place?”
Perrin’s hand under the cover of his desk formed a fist. If Thorne dared draw a parallel between himself and the kitten—
And Perrin was quite sure that the kitten had never been near the fort. He suspected that Thorne employed Radan, who had delivered the basket, to snatch some kitten from its mother while he was evaluating empty barns to become storehouses.
“Immediately I knew,” Thorne continued in a well-rehearsed speech, “when I saw it bobbling between the cots, that the only person capable of taking care of such a needy living thing was your own very conscientious daughter. I saw her once in a garden last year, carefully tending to a row of corn, and knew that she—”
Perrin held up his hand. “Let me get this straight. Because Jaytsy flicks the bugs off of corn, you assumed she’d want a cat?”
He blinked at that. “Uh, well, not exactly following that chain of thought, sir, however—”
That was the thing about throwing people off their scripts, Perrin thought smugly to himself as he allowed his fist to unclench. If someone relays the truth, it’s easy to pick up the thread again. But if it’s a story they wove themselves, they frantically fuss over the sudden appearance of a rope they didn’t anticipate, and generally tie themselves up in it.
They taught recognizing this in Command School, too, but never taught how to disentangle yourself.
Perrin settled in for the duration. He was more than capable of an extended head-to-head with the boy who coveted his chair, his fort, and his daughter. He sat back, confident that Lemuel Thorne wouldn’t get any of it.
“—it’s well-known, sir, that young women enjoy taking care of baby animals—”
“Is it, now?” interrupted Perrin. “My wife’s never mentioned that.”
“Well, uh, she’s obviously a bit different then, sir—”
“Really? How so?”
“Uh, not exactly knowing your wife, sir, I wouldn’t dare h
azard a guess—”
“But,” Perrin cut in frostily, “you’d guess that my daughter would want a scruff of an animal that complains in a high-pitched whine day and night which causes me to lose precious sleep again. Why? Did you think it’d remind her of you?”
Blank eyes stared back at Perrin, and Thorne’s color faded a bit. “That . . . that wasn’t the intention, sir.”
“It is, however, the effect.” Then, with several layers of meaning that Thorne couldn’t possibly miss, Perrin said, “The next time you find a lost creature that needs saving, do us all a favor and throw it in the river. Now, anything else, Captain?”
Thorne took a nervous step backward, having understood enough. “No, sir. I suppose not.”
---
One man sat in the dark office of an unlit building.
It was useless.
He couldn’t think, all alone. But he couldn’t end it yet. So much remained to be done. All of his research needed to be compiled into the greatest evaluation of the animal nature of humans that the world would ever know.
If he decided to ever let the world know of it . . .
But it was useless.
Nicko Mal could only wring his hands while quietly cursing Perrin Shin, and stare dismally at the empty chair.
Chapter 18 ~ “Please, Mahrree, please. Stay for me.”