Mahrree’s eyes opened early in the morning and she thought, It’s Weeding Season, and today they’re leaving!
She wasn’t thinking about her daughter, although after six weeks of marriage Jaytsy had finally moved the last of her things over to her new home at the Briter farm. Mahrree was startled at her mixed feelings about that. As happy as she was to see her daughter blissfully married, removing her things a little each day had been like peeling off a scab from a wound that would never heal.
Her daughter had left her.
True, it was just down the road, and she still saw her every day, but it wasn’t the same. It would never be the same, ever again. Mahrree hadn’t expected to feel such a sense of loss when she, Perrin, and Peto rode home from Mountseen, Jaytsy already off starting her new life with her husband.
Jaytsy didn’t seem to feel any of it, though. Her giggling actually increased, and the way she looked at Deck, and the way he blushed back—well, Mahrree knew it was the very best thing that could happen for both of them.
But still Mahrree felt better two weeks after the wedding when she found Jaytsy in her old bedroom, weeping.
“You moved Grandmother Peto’s shelves into here?”
“Well, yes, Jayts. To give us more room around the table.”
“But this was MY room.”
“Yes, Jaytsy, it was. Now you have a whole house—”
“But this was MY room!”
That’s when Mahrree realized her daughter felt the loss too. They cried together for a few minutes, then laughed about how silly it all was and picked up another crate of her books to carry down the road.
Perrin had tried to understand what they were experiencing, but didn’t get it. “They’re both here as much as they always were!”
Peto thought the newlyweds were gooey and ridiculous whenever they came for dinner and fed each other from their plates. But then again, that’s because he was sixteen and utterly uninterested in the opposite sex. But he was still interested in kickball, unfortunately. For Peto’s birthday yesterday they broke down and gave him a new leather ball. Since he was finally the height of Jaytsy, and still growing and adding a bit of Perrin-like bulk, Mahrree worried that the professional recruiters who came around each year would regard her son with renewed interest for teams in Idumea.
But for now she didn’t worry about that, because her mind all night had been focused solely on one fantastic possibility that may eventually take shape since they were leaving this morning—
She giggled again in anticipation.
“What?” a groggy voice said next to her.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” she chuckled. “Go back to sleep.”
“Is she here again?” he mumbled.
Mahrree laughed out loud. “No, she’s not here again, and neither is he! It was only once that Jaytsy came over this early in the morning. Now go back to sleep.”
“Well, you just never know. She may be in a panic about something again. Deck might have another headache.”
“Oh, come now. You were worried about him too.”
“I was worried about my back. That boy weighs more than he looks like he would. Some son-in-law he turned out to be,” Perrin grumbled into this pillow. “Married for only a few weeks, gets himself kicked unconscious by a bull. How can he take care of his bride when he’s out cold?”
“Bah!” Mahrree scoffed. “He’s the best son-in-law in the world! Sweet, funny, adoring, and never complains about her cooking.”
“That’s because they’re always having dinner here. She may have a knack for growing food but not for cooking it.”
Mahrree poked him. “They’re here for dinner maybe three times a week, that’s all. You’re certainly a grump today. And you’re one to talk about taking care of new wives. When we were married for less than a season you left me for days to chase Guarders in the forest with no word as to what happened to you. At least Jaytsy knew her husband was on the ground in the barn.”
“And the next morning he was sleeping peacefully in bed and she thought something was wrong with him,” he muttered.
Mahrree rolled her eyes. “She wouldn’t have been worried if you and Shem hadn’t told her that if she couldn’t wake him up something could be wrong.”
“Dying men don’t snore, Mahrree.”
“You don’t have to tell me that. My, but you’re a bear this morning. Just how late did you get to bed last night?”
He growled. “Don’t know. It wasn’t last night anymore, though.”
“So do you think they’re off yet?”
“With any luck. The plan was for the expedition to leave before dawn, but they have some men more skittish than squirrels. They’ll probably postpone again, but I can’t imagine what else they could possibly need. We went through their list at least a dozen times,” he groused. “I left the duty up to Thorne to get them on the road. Told him they better be gone by the time I got to the fort or I’d make him join the expedition.”
Mahrree laughed. “Ooh, then I hope they haven’t left yet! Maybe you should get dressed and run up there, right now. We could get rid of Thorne for nine moons.”
Perrin finally laughed and rolled on to his back. “I just want them to go already.”
“I’ll admit I’m so excited!” she squealed like a nine-year-old. “I can’t believe the Administrators are finally doing this. It’s about time. This land grab fever has struck the whole world. How long do you think they had that map?”
“The expedition leader told me it arrived at Chairman Mal’s office right before The Dinner, so at least six weeks,” he said, his eyes still closed. “The Administrators thought about presenting it at The Dinner, but some of them were too nervous about it. That’s why they waited another two weeks before they revealed they had it. Apparently they were arguing about what to do with it all that time. If there wasn’t this crazed demand for more land, I doubt the Administrators would have moved so quickly to form the expedition. The sooner we find new places to settle, the sooner we establish peace in the villages again. Some were seeing more violence than they ever did when the Guarders were still active.”
“The timing for the map to appear couldn’t have been better,” Mahrree said. “With the weather warming back up, I was sure everyone’s tempers would too. At least with the thought of new territory no one’s fighting lately. They’re content with waiting to see just how much greener the fields are on the other side of the desert. Then they’ll start fighting again over who gets to claim that.” She sighed, long and heavy.
Perrin opened his eyes and braced himself, suspecting what was coming next.
“I’m still not happy with you, you know,” she told him. “Why didn’t you let me see the map? You could have got permission, I know it.”
He rolled on his side and supported his head with his hand. “You would’ve had to come to my office.”
“Yes, I do that all the time.”
“People would’ve seen you.”
“So?”
“I have my pride to maintain.”
She squinted at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Do you remember what happened in Idumea on the campus when you saw that statue that was ‘made by the hands that shook the hand of Terryp’?”
She rolled on to her side and matched his pose. “What’s your point?”
“I don’t need any of my officers or the expedition leaders seeing my wife fawn all over some copy of Terryp’s ancient map. You would have started drooling and crying over it at the same time, I’m sure of it. That’s all I need to get around—the colonel’s wife in love with a dead historian.”
Mahrree chuckled. “I’m not in love with Terryp, I love the idea of Terryp. Of what he did. Surely you understand the distinction. I’m completely in love with you.”
He sighed skeptically. “So why are you still pestering me about seeing the map?”
“Because I love hearing you sigh. Besides, are you sure it was a copy? I me
an, their last expert was you, after all.”
“You doubt me?”
“No, it’s just that you’re not much of an expert, really.”
He shrugged. “I’m the only one they knew with a collection of old maps. I compared the copy of the map to what I have. While it was created on older parchment, the quality was the same as the maps I have from 40 years ago. It couldn’t have been 130 years old. Besides, whoever sent that map would have been smart enough to not send the Administrators the original. And the Administrators knew it was a copy as well. That’s why they organized the expedition to find head west so quickly. They knew they couldn’t ignore it because other copies could be sent all over the world until someone finally did something about them.”
Mahrree rolled on to her back and looked at the ceiling. “I wonder who it was. I wonder what else they have! And where did they get the map in the first place? It was supposed to have been destroyed in that fire along with the family lines. Oh Perrin, what else might have survived? And where was it? Where’s it now?”
“Well, I found my maps at the old garrison,” he offered. “My father said no one wanted them since they were making new ones. I know the kings had kept some documents there, near where my father had his storage room.”
“Hmm,” Mahrree mused. “If he were still with us I would have guessed it was Relf. Maybe it was a soldier, one that was going through the debris after the land tremor. They pulled out all kinds of documents.”
“I considered that too,” Perrin nodded. “Seems most logical. Then again, someone could’ve found it in an attic, or maybe it was held by someone who took it before the king could destroy it. A servant, a soldier . . . maybe a historian. Maybe their families held it all these years, passing it down through the generations, waiting for someone to feel the need to know what Terryp found. Who knows. Too many hands may have held it in the past 130 years to track where it is now.”
“But it gives me so much hope! What else is hiding out there, waiting to be found?” She sighed longingly. “I can’t believe Shem turned them down. If I were single and 37, I would have jumped at the opportunity to go on the expedition. Oh, if only I were a man!”
Perrin jabbed her in the ribs.
She turned to him.
He held up his hand in questioning.
She chuckled as she pushed it down. “You know what I mean. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere than right by your side, and as a woman. It’s just the idea of it all. And Shem said no?”
“He said he just didn’t have the desire to go.”
“How could he not want to go?” she nearly wailed.
Perrin sighed again.
She looked at him again.
“You’re the oddest woman I’ve ever known,” he declared.
She laughed. “Why?”
“How many women—girls—had an old historian as their childhood hero? I thought girls liked stories about the king’s daughter being rescued by a captain or whatever.”
She rolled to face him again. “What’s to admire about that? It was obvious none of the stories were true! Those girls were so helpless. And the kings suddenly had all these daughters?”
“Mahrree, you know as well as I do the kings had children everywhere. Remember my parents’ mansion? The purpose of it?”
“I mean aside from that,” she waved off the memory that the High General’s mansion was built to house King Oren’s mistress and his two illegitimate sons who could never claim the throne. “Really, who would believe that some Querul’s daughter—and no one ever knows if it was the First, Second, Third, or Fourth’s—whose golden hair was too long for her to run safely from the Guarders, would be rescued by a captain on a large black horse who suddenly appeared at the right time? And what does he do then? Any logical soldier would have taken his long knife and cut off that stupid braid, but no. The captain ties it carefully around her body, then lifts her on to her horse while the Guarders watch in respect of the action, and then he rides off with her?”
She rolled her eyes.
“So stupid, even to a seven-year-old. And the captains always have big black horses.” She laughed. “Just like your new horse. Now, Colonel, why is that?”
“Gari Yordin knows I like big black horses,” Perrin defended with a scoff. “It’s not like I’m going to turn down a gift like that. He had it brought up from the Stables at Pools two weeks before Jaytsy’s wedding, just waiting for me to come down. Said the owner’s son Roak chose him especially for me and accompanied him all the way there. All I sent him was one short thank you letter, and Roak chooses for me the strongest, fastest horse ever bred. How am I supposed to say no to all that planning and effort? Besides, Clark is the best animal I’ve ever had.”
“And what’s with that name? Clark. That’s not a proper name.”
“Better than his mother’s name—Pusheron. Seems that mare could continue for a distance and at a speed no one imagined such an enormous creature could. Still, Push-Her-On? The names some people come up with—”
“Why didn’t you just keep the name Yordin and Roak gave him?”
“Mahrree, you know full well I can’t ride a horse named The General. And Gari thought he was so clever, too. ‘Go get The General!’ Very funny.”
“Well it’s better than Clark,” Mahrree tried not to giggle.
“He likes the name,” Perrin defended, trying to hide his smile. “He’s already responding to it. You know, woman, were you that king’s daughter no captain would have rescued you. They would have just listened to you for a minute and said, ‘Turn her over to the Guarders. She’ll drive them mad.’”
She giggled and kissed him.
“Look, ‘clark’ is the sound of the horses’ hooves on the cobblestone,” he explained.
“No it’s not. It’s much more of a clip-clopping sound.”
“Clip-clopping? And how would you know? You’ve never been on a horse.”
“I have too. A couple of times your soldiers gave me rides, years ago. You, however, have never rescued me on Clark. Clark, clark, clark, clark. I’m sorry—I’m just not hearing it.”
“I seem to remember offering to give you a ride once or twice. But it’s not hard to see why I’ve never rescued you, Mrs. Shin.”
“Because I never needed your rescuing. Because I never intend to be one of those silly women that say, ‘Help me, Captain! On your clark-clark!’”
He shook his head at her and tried not to smile. “You really want to go west, don’t you?”
She sighed. “No. Yes. I don’t know.”
“I have a plan. Don’t give me that look until you hear it,” he chuckled and pushed a lock of hair off her face. “How about when we celebrate our twentieth wedding anniversary in two years we do something different. It seems to be tradition that men take their wives east to Waves, but that sounds dull. Just watching the sea go back and forth?”
Mahrree bit her lip in anticipation. “I agree. Go on . . .”
“What if we, Mrs. Shin, went west instead? By that time the expedition will be back with updated maps, the news must have been good—how dare they return otherwise?—and you and I will spend the Weeding Season in two years exploring the ruins ourselves.”
“Oh, don’t tease me like that.”
“I’m not teasing.”
“You’re serious?”
“I’m always serious,” he teased.
She sat up. “Have I told you today that you are the most perfect man in the world, and that I love and adore you more than words can say?”
He grinned. “Then maybe I better make sure that expedition is finally on its way.”
---
Mahrree had a difficult time concentrating at school that day. Her mind was heading west with the thirty scientists, assistants to the Administrators, and soldiers set to explore Terryp’s land.
Even if her mind wasn’t miles away, it was still getting harder to teach her students what the Department of Instruction insisted upon. Mahrree r
ealized some time ago that she was now the only teacher not enamored with the government’s control of education, likely because the rest of Edge’s teachers had gone through the Department of Instruction’s very thorough training, and were wholly converted to the notion that government knows best. But each year the curriculum was more lifeless, and she could hardly blame her students for staring listlessly at the large slate board.
Only a third of her students were there that morning. Some were taking the Final Administrative Competency Test. Mahrree thought it was ironic that the first letters formed the word FACT, because very few useful ones would be found on it. That’s where Peto was, hoping to prove he didn’t need another year of schooling.
But he’d pass easily. His teachers, like all the others, had taught only what the test would cover. And over the years the test questions had become so simplified and leading that Mahrree thought a sheep had a fair shot at passing it if only it could hold a quill to mark the ‘yes’ and ‘no’ boxes.
Besides, only the top ten percent of students would be offered the chance to go to a university, and that was her goal for Peto: to be something more than just another worker drone for the Administrators earning them more gold. The government didn’t want an intelligent population, just an obedient one. When too many people become independent thinkers, the elite has no more sway over them. You can’t manipulate people who know how to think for themselves. No wonder they did away with debating so many years ago.
Another few of her students were out on ‘farm need,’ but the notes they wrote for each other pretending to be each other’s fathers had far too many spelling mistakes to be believable.
But with fewer students today she hoped she might actually make some progress with her “special cases” since there were only a dozen in the room: the perfect size for a class.
Still, Mahrree struggled nearly as much as her students did to care, counting down the days—no, hours—until the Weeding Season break. She ploddingly wrote down dates on the slate board that no one, not even her, would feel the need to remember after the—
“Mrs. Shin, is this going to be on the End of Year test?”
Mahrree sighed. Oh to have a student ask just one truly interesting question! But those days were long gone, and the schools had bored out of children their natural desire to learn by age eight.
Before she turned around to face the teenagers, Mahrree made sure her teacher expression was fixed and ready.
“Chommy, I know that was you, because that’s the only question you ever ask. And since it’s the only question you ever ask, you know the answer I always give.”
The boy on the back row sighed. “I know. ‘It doesn’t matter, does it? Because all learning is important.’”
“Oh good, I was hoping you would pick something up this year. You now know how to mimic me.”
“Nah, that’s Lannard’s hobby,” Chommy punched the shoulder of his friend next to him.
Lannard, engrossed with his packet of matches, was sniffing the sulfur tops. “What?” he said automatically, his head popping up. “The answer’s four.”
Mahrree congratulated herself for not rolling her eyes and gestured for him to, once again, put away the matches.
Chommy shook his head as the rest of the class snickered. “Lannard,” he said in a loud whisper, “she didn’t ask a question. And just because your answer of ‘three’ yesterday was wrong, there’s no reason to believe ‘four’ will be correct today.”
Mahrree nodded once to Chommy for saying exactly what she was about to. Like it or not, he was better at copying her than Lannard was who considered himself to be the class comedian. It was all the slow-witted boy had going for him, and Mahrree wasn’t about to yank that away from him, as unfunny as Lannard was.
“Seriously though, Mrs. Shin. And I’m not trying to be difficult,” Chommy insisted as Lannard dutifully tucked the matches into his shirt pocket where he’d extract them again in a few minutes. “Well, not this time. But why, oh why, must I know the year the Administrative Chairman first came to power? I mean, it’s not like I’m going to be invited to some party where I have to write on a message ‘Congratulations on being in power for nineteen—’”
“It will be twenty-one,” Mahrree corrected, pointing to the date on the board as a few boys sniggered.
“—twenty-one years.’ I’m going to be a tanner. Why do I have to know this stuff?”
Well, Mahrree considered, it was a question. Not a very compelling one, but a question nonetheless.
And she was going to run with it.
“Tell me, Chommy, why do you think the Administrators want you to know this?”
“Because they’re stupid old men trying to ruin my day!”
The boys laughed their agreement.
Mahrree knew she shouldn’t smile. She’d lose all credibility if she did, but she couldn’t help it. Not only did she smile, she found herself chuckling.
“Ha!” another boy pointed at her. “She agrees!”
Mahrree shook her head. “No I don’t. He just said it so . . . all right.” She waited until their laughter began to die down before she said over the last of it, “I’m going to tell you something you may not know.”
They hushed. Since it didn’t sound as if it’d be on the test, what she was about to tell them might actually be worth listening to.
She paused for another three seconds because she knew how to work a crowd as well as her husband. When they were absolutely still with anticipation, she whispered, “I’ve met the Administrators! All of them.”
“No!”
“Seriously?”
“And they’re a bunch of stupid old men, aren’t they?”
Mahrree pointed at Chommy. “Careful, now,” she said in a stern voice she used only rarely. Keeping a more light-hearted tone in her class also kept the boys more often in the classroom. For some, she suspected her class was the only place where they had actual discussions with an adult. “You do remember who my husband is, right? Eyes and ears?”
“Ankles, spleen, elbows . . . whatever.” Chommy rolled his eyes again.
“But Mrs. Shin, you really met them? What was it like?” asked another boy.
She wasn’t about to ignore the rarely-seen glimmer of curiosity in her students’ eyes. Forget memorizing dates for the test.
“Actually, it was terrifying,” she admitted. “This was right after the land tremor when we were in Idumea. I had to be presented to them in their large Conference Room. There was a huge, highly polished table—” she gestured the size and shape, “—where all of them sat around with their stiff red coats and frilly white shirts, and Chairman Mal sat at the head so he could stare directly at whoever came in.” She folded her hands and furrowed her eyebrows in a sinister manner.
Several boys snickered.
“And you were scared speechless, right?” asked Lannard with a mischievous grin. For once he was paying attention.
“Actually, no, Lannard. I found a few things to say.”
“Of course you would, Mrs. Shin,” Chommy said. “And you told them to let us either learn something useful, or let us leave.”
Oh, how she wished she could have said that! If the boys didn’t care about a subject, spending hour after hour on it didn’t suddenly change that, or force it into their minds. Nothing could be forced into a mind and compelled to stay there.
But for some reason the Department believed all students should learn the exact same way and at the exact same time, demonstrating that none of them knew the first thing about children.
For a few the education system worked fine, Mahrree grudgingly had to concede, and delivered enough acceptable results that the Administrators were satisfied. Someone at the Department of Instruction was probably waiting for the rest of the students to finally fall in step with the thirty percent who did all right under the currently rigid system.
Otherwise students either sat listlessly or fidgeted nonstop, just waiting until the
long day was over. But occasionally—rarely—a moment came around when a student brought up a topic he actually cared about. And suddenly, Mahrree remembered why she used to love teaching.
She eyed Chommy in appreciation, and he fidgeted.
“Uh-oh, Chommy,” Lannard whispered loudly. “I sense a departure from lesson plan, and it’s heading straight for you.”
Several boys chuckled.
“You’re right,” Mahrree said. “And no, this won’t be on the Administrators’ test. Tell me, Chommy, honestly—why do you think the Administrators want you to know these dates? No silly answers. Give me something ‘useful’.”
Chommy sat back in his chair, his sixteen-year-old legs pushing beyond the confines of his desk to stretch out into the aisle. No matter how far apart Mahrree set up the desks, the boys always had their legs in the aisles within kicking distance of each other. If she were down to one boy, he would fill the entire room. “Because they think the dates are important.”
“Important to . . . ?” she pressed.
“Important to . . . to them?”
“If they are important to them, why should some tanner-to-be in Edge worry about them?”
“That’s what I’ve been asking!”
“And now I want you to answer it!” Mahrree said. “Come on, why?”
He wasn’t used to coming up with answers that hadn’t already been supplied to him. “I don’t know why.”
“Guess. Take a shot. Let that arrow fly. See what you hit. Or miss. Just try!”
Chommy thought for a few silent, tension-filled moments, and Mahrree begged internally that he wouldn’t give up and say he didn’t know. He had to know something on his own, and he needed to discover that right now. Mahrree frequently suspected many of the boys were far brighter than they let on, but performed poorly because, like her, they were happier hiding in her classroom where no one expected much from them.
But she always expected something. She couldn’t help not have hope for them.
“Because . . . they want a tanner in Edge to know,” he stumbled. “It’s important so that I always remember who they are and how long they’ve been there.”
He was on the cusp of something he’d never approached before, and Mahrree could see in his eyes that he was worried about being there.
So in her best encouraging, pleading manner she said, “Why?”
He started to sigh in frustration, but then stopped. With squinting eyes and a decidedly cynical tone he said, “Because a tanner in Edge needs to know so that he . . . knows who to obey? And why?”
Mahrree felt a smile creep around her mouth. “And why should you know why you need to obey them?”
“To remember, I guess.”
“Remember what?”
“How bad it was under the kings, how much better it is under the Administrators?”
Mahrree nodded. “Not bad, Chommy. That just may be one of the right answers. And there are often many correct answers.”
Chommy sat back, a tad pleased with himself. “But is it, Mrs. Shin? I mean, is life really better?”
This was one of the things Mahrree loved about teaching: the rare moments when a student dares to wonder. The best learning happened when the students asked the questions, not the teachers.
It was also at these moments that she panicked, because sometimes the questions caught her by surprise. But it was the good kind of panic that lets you remember you’re alive, like being chased by a dog you know you can outrun, but it terrifies you just the same. It feels great when you finally reach home, or see the dog suddenly yanked back by its leash and you gloat at it triumphantly.
But first you have to run.
She always had a ready answer. “Chommy, what do you think?”
It was the best stalling question she’d ever come up with. She could think while the student stumbled around for an answer himself. Already she could see the little wheels in Chommy’s mind spinning, trying to connect to find an answer.
A light came on in his eyes. “I don’t know what to think, Mrs. Shin, because they never tell us what life was like before.”
Mahrree moaned inwardly. When did Chommy get so insightful?
“Hey,” said Lannard, “he’s right! When at any time in this past year have we learned about life under the kings? We hear how bad it was, but I want to know just how bad. Details! Give me details!”
Mahrree suppressed a smile at his imitation of her when she criticized their essays. Several other boys chimed in their opinions. Mahrree let them go for a moment to let them get it out of their systems. And also to buy herself a little more time.
But even the laziest youth of Edge deserved honest answers.
Mahrree held up her hands in surrender. “You’re right, you’re right. We haven’t talked about that this year. Do you know why?”
“Because it’s not on the test?” asked a boy on the front row.
She pointed to him. “Exactly! Still want to know what life was like under the kings?”
“Well, is should still matter, shouldn’t it? What life was like? Wouldn’t we be even more loyal if we knew?” he wondered.
Mahrree marveled. Why didn’t they show this much passion when they discussed the life cycle of a worm?
“Again, you’re right. It does matter. In fact . . .” She put a finger on her lips.
The boys moaned and pulled out their slates. They knew what that look meant.
She smiled. “No writing, I promise. But . . . exploring!”
“Sorry, Mrs. Shin. I was too young to go exploring on the expedition. I tried,” Lannard said, shrugging in disappointment.
“We all appreciate your trying to leave us, Lannard. That would have meant no one’s trousers’ legs would have mysteriously caught on fire anymore this year,” she said with a slight glare.
He squirmed and guiltily patted his shirt pocket where his matches waited for him.
“No,” Mahrree continued, “what I mean is, I want you to explore your parents’ or grandparents’ past. The Administrator over Science has sent out a delegation of thirty men to explore Terryp’s past, so we should too. I want each of you to ask your parents what life was like under the kings. Bring me your answers tomorrow for us to discuss, and I’ll not make you write it up as your next week’s writing assignment.
“But,” she paused to let her students’ cheers die down, “if you don’t bring me proof that you talked to your parents, you all will write about it. And remember, I’m an old woman and I know very well what life was like under the kings. I’ll know if you’re making things up!”
---
Perrin reined Clark to a stop just under the shade of a large maple tree. The horse obediently halted, even a moment before Perrin pulled on the reins as if reading his mind. Perrin would have smiled at the stallion’s instincts, but his concentration was too focused on the large group of travelers moving at a painstaking pace. The forty horses, some pack mules, and a three dozen men slowly made their way on the other side of Moorland, purposely avoiding the dead village by a quarter mile. Although Perrin was on the other side of the ruins next to the tree line of the forest and out of sight, he could still make out the expedition party by the huge cloud of dust they created, likely from dragging their heels.
“They should be halfway to Scrub by now,” he told Clark. “If it were me on that expedition, we’d already be passing Sands.” He smiled at the prospect. “What do you think, Clark? Ready to go exploring in a year or two? Know of a mellow mare we could set Mahrree on?”
He chuckled to himself, picturing her balancing unsteadily on the back of a beast she was terrified of. Her eyes would likely be as large as the poor horse’s.
“Well, we’ve got some time to find her the right animal, don’t we now?”
Clark snuffed in agreement.
“Ever done a desert?” he asked his mount. “No, of course you haven’t. No one has. Not even the best and brightest cowards chosen for this expedition. Th
ey probably would have talked Shem out of going with them. He’s far too brave for them. Oh, Clark—they better draw the correct conclusions,” he sighed wistfully. “They better see what they’re supposed to see at the ruins. It’s all on that map. If I could see it, surely they will too. If they don’t—”
He grumbled in anticipatory frustration. He couldn’t bear to think of the expedition returning next year with the news that the ruins were a dangerous place. He had far too many plans already in mind, and he wasn’t about to let them be foiled by some timid idiots.
“Well, if they don’t reach the correct conclusion, maybe we’ll just have to do something about that.” He patted his horse’s neck and realized how calmly Clark stood for such a large and vibrant stallion.
“Interesting . . .”
He glanced to his right, to the densely wooded forest that last year held a host of Guarders, now all dead. It was peaceful and inviting, as the trees always were to him. That didn’t bother him, just intrigued him.
“You’re not in the least bit skittish to be here, are you?” he asked Clark. Several horses he had gone through over the years would develop the sudden need to trample something when he neared the darkened trees, but not Clark. He merely glanced over to the pines and twitched his ears as if to ask, Want to head in there? I’m game.
“Don’t tempt me, Clark. Come along. We need to finish our survey of Moorland.”
He gently nudged the horse, and Clark immediately set off for the ruins as if knowing the way. Perrin sent someone to check on Moorland at irregular intervals each week, just to make sure no one else was trying to set up an explosives shop, as if anything remained that could be usable.
But every once in a while Perrin set out alone just to see it again and to prove to himself that it was still conquered. That knowledge helped him sleep better at night.
Of course Shem didn’t like that idea that Perrin went by himself. The last time he snuck away from the fort, Shem caught up to him and accompanied him on his rounds of the charred buildings, the large crater, and the blackened fields now beginning to sprout new growth. Nature recovers quickly. Perrin envied it sometimes.
But today he made sure Shem was busy before he set out, and didn’t tell anyone where he was going. Deep down his training told him that going alone was dangerous, but in each man there’s still a rebellious teenager that jumps up and begs to be indulged once in a while. This was it.
He didn’t get too close to Moorland itself. With the rock foundations and first floors of all the structures now tumbled down, it was easy to see through the remains of the small village, still dead and abandoned.
He tipped the reins to the side to nudge Clark in another direction, but instead the horse hesitated, then did a quick sideways step.
Perrin looked down to see that Clark had deliberated avoided stepping on a large, gnawed-on bone. Perrin gulped. Likely human, likely dug up by some wolves, likely left here for a snack later.
Clark merely continued steadily on his way, and Perrin once again patted the horse’s neck. The creature was smarter than the majority of his new recruits.
Satisfied that Moorland was still just a memory, he clucked Clark to return to the shade of the trees. The black horse blended in perfectly with the woods. Perrin always enjoyed riding in the shadows at the edge where he could hear the forest calling him.
They hadn’t traveled more than a hundred paces or so when Clark sidestepped again, this time slightly agitated. His ears twitched and he snorted in concern.
“Whoa,” Perrin said unnecessarily, for Clark had already stopped as if hoping his rider would notice what he did. “What is it, Clark?” he whispered. “What do you smell?”
Perrin peered into the woods but all he could see were thick young pines, dense scrubby brush, dead logs, fallen branches, and absolute quiet. Still, he wasn’t about to doubt Clark, whose nostrils were flaring as if he smelled something absolutely foul. Perrin found himself subtly sniffing the air but didn’t catch a whiff of sulfur or anything else alarming.
Yet . . . there was something. Something he could feel, as if another set of eyes were watching him closely. Without moving his head he shifted his gaze upward into the tops of the trees. Seeing nothing unusual, his eyes traveled down again to look in the direction Clark was staring and now stomping in annoyance.
“I know,” Perrin whispered soothingly. “I feel it too. I just can’t see it. But it’s there.” The thought filled him with dread.
Someone was still alive. Maybe many “someones.”
It had been too much to expect that all of the Guarders would vanish and no one would ever return. When he’d told Mahrree of his hope last year, he’d been riding high on sheer enthusiasm of his success. But after only a few days he had the nagging feeling that it was all too good to be true. There had to be a few remaining, and therefore a purpose for forts, according to the garrison.
Perrin knew that coming alone to inspect Moorland wasn’t the safest or smartest thing to do. But he wasn’t helpless. Far from it.
“Did you hear me?” he announced loudly to the forest. “I know you’re there! You may think you’re unnoticeable, but obviously we noticed. And you see me here patrolling Moorland and you know why, don’t you? I don’t take anything for granted!”
He continued to stare, as did Clark, at whatever it was making its presence in the trees. Or bushes. Or fallen logs. Perhaps there were still Guarders, but they were gutless. He was the easiest target in the world right then, and he must have been the Guarders’ most wanted man. If ever there was a time to take revenge it was right now, and he waited with his hand twitching on the hilt of Relf Shin’s sword.
But for some inexplicable reason they didn’t take the opportunity. Maybe it was just one sole survivor, or two, that were maybe lost but certainly not about to take action. That was what Perrin was hoping: that they’d never dare to take action again.
After another full minute he squinted into the stillness. “I’ll never stop keeping the world secure from you,” he promised.
He prodded Clark who, after snorting his disdain to the trees, promptly turned and trotted away from the forest.
---
Only after the sound of horses hooves died away did a clump of shrubbery collapse into an unconscious heap.
Two more heavy clusters of leaves dropped from nearby trees and rushed over to the fallen foliage.
“He’s already coming around,” said one bunch of leaves to the other. He pulled off his concealing hat for a clearer look at their companion.
The second man had already pulled away part of the collection of branches that created the shrub disguise.
The shrub opened his eyes slowly at first, then they flashed in panic.
“Shh,” one of the men patted him. “He’s gone. Stay down until you can focus properly. You passed out.”
“That’s what happens when you lock your legs and don’t breathe for five minutes,” said the other man.
The shrub-man exhaled and rubbed his eyes with a green gloved hand. “That was the most terrifying moment I’ve ever had!”
The first leaf man chuckled. “I have to admit, as initiations go that was probably the most intense any new recruit has experienced.”
The second man nodded. “Most of us were initiated by what we refer to as the ‘trial by fire’ last year, when Moorland burned and the flames traveled to the forest. But to be stared down like that? All I can say is, Welcome to the corps!”
Shrub-man nodded once. “So was that him?”
“That was him, all right,” the first man said, helping the shrub-man sit up slowly. “No one else does ‘glaring’ quite like a Shin.”
“What was he doing this far east?”
“Inspections, like a thorough commander should conduct.”
Shrub-man exhaled again.
“So what did he say there at the last?” the second man asked. “I couldn’t quite hear all of the speech.”
Shrub
-man rubbed his head which still pounded from its impact with the ground. “He said something like, ‘I’ll never stop keeping the world safe from you.’”
The first man looked at the second and nodded. “Sounds like something he’d say. Except that he got it all mixed up.”
---
The lanky sixteen-year-old with wavy brown hair leaned against the fence railing and watched the gray stallion. Up close it was even more impressive—the perfect blend, bred for strength and speed. He longed to hop the fence and run a hand down the withers. If this were any other property he would have already been at the horse’s side. But even he knew the importance of not violating the fort’s boundaries without permission or an escort.
At least, not in daylight.
He felt a presence right behind him.
“If you think he looks good now, you should see him at a full run.”
“Sir!” the young man jumped, startled. “I’m sorry, I know I’m a little early—”
“It’s all right. ‘On time’ is already ten minutes late,” the officer said, putting a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Lannard, it was, right?”
“Yes, sir, Captain.”
Captain Thorne smiled thinly. “Well, Lannard, are you ready for your first assignment?”
Lannard delivered a nervous smile and a sloppy salute.
Thorne winced as he turned to lean against the fence. “We’ll work on that. Another year yet before you can be a soldier. You just may need that much time to improve that salute. So, in the meantime, there he is: Streak. He just doesn’t get as much exercise as he deserves. I have to spend so much time in the office now.”
“I understand sir. It’s my good fortune. I’m well aware of that,” Lannard said, looking longingly at the stallion.
“Well, I don’t know if it makes up for not going on the expedition, but yes, it was fortunate we met. I could tell you’re a potential horse man.”
“Oh, yes sir! My father keeps cattle, but I don’t see the appeal.”
Thorne sighed in appreciation. “Indeed. Why would you be drawn to cattle . . .” He bristled at the recent memory of Briter out in his fields grouping the clumsy animals for some odd experiment involving cheering and applause.
“. . . when I could be caring instead for a stallion?” Lannard said, nodding at the horse. “My thoughts exactly, sir.”
Even a sixteen-year-old can see the logic in that, Lemuel thought. But it just proved another one of his father’s theories: men are far more logical than girls.
“So Lannard, your schedule in school: when do you usually leave?”
“You mean, what time am I supposed to leave, or what time do I actually leave?” Lannard asked with a twinkle in his eye.
Thorne shook his head. “I can’t have you breaking any rules, or I can’t have you working for me. Education is important.”
“Yes, sir.” Lannard’s eyes shifted oddly, as if he tried to keep them from rolling but they wanted to anyway. “I’m usually allowed to leave school by three, unless Mrs. Shin needs to have another one of her talks with me.”
Thorne’s body stiffened in an effort to control his breathing.
Lannard wasn’t the only one experiencing good fortune today.
“Mrs. Shin is your teacher?” He tried to keep his voice natural although the words wanted to come out in an ecstatic shout.
“Yes sir,” he said dully. “I had her last year, this year, and I’m doomed to have her next year, unless I ‘improve my behavior’,” he said, impersonating the director of Edge schools quite accurately.
The effect was lost on Thorne, who had never met Mr. Hegek. “I take it you don’t enjoy Mrs. Shin?”
Lannard shrugged. “She’s all right, I suppose. Sir, I really don’t need any of this getting back to the colonel,” he said with a meaningful sidelong glance. “My older brother used to be one of his ‘special cases.’ I don’t need that kind of attention.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t think you need his attention,” Thorne assured him. “I’m curious, what kinds of things does she teach? What subjects?”
“She gets to teach them all. But she really loves history and current events. She’s been going on about that expedition for weeks, ever since they announced it.”
Thorne squinted. “I didn’t realize that was going to be on the test this year.”
“Oh, it’s not. But she doesn’t believe in just teaching what’s on the test. She says we need to learn everything we can. Do you realize how much ‘everything’ is? It’s like . . . every thing! She’s insane.” Lannard felt it safe to roll his eyes now.
Thorne nodded thoughtfully. “Like what? What’s something she’s insisting on teaching?”
“You really don’t want to know, Captain.”
“Oh, I think I do, Lannard. Come on. Let’s go get Streak saddled up and you can tell me some of the tortures of being an upper school student. It’s been a couple of years since I’ve been there, but I’m sure I could top whatever you have to say.”
“Captain, I hear a challenge! All right, then,” Lannard rubbed his hands together as they walked to Thorne’s personal tackle shed. “Tomorrow’s assignment is about the kings, and what life was like under their rule. I’m supposed to ask my parents about what they remember, then we’re going to compare it to what life is like now. And it’s not even going to be on the test.”
A smile grew on Captain Thorne’s face. This boy certainly didn’t need Colonel Shin’s personalized attention.
Only Captain Thorne’s.
“Lannard, I can’t tell you how glad I am we met.”
---
That evening a new piece of paper with the date, 2nd Day of Weeding Season, 337, was placed in a thick file. For weeks Captain Thorne had been looking for ways to fulfill the request of Administrator Genev, but nothing had come to mind. Until now.
Under the date were the words, “MPS deliberately ignores Department of Instructions’ mandated lesson plans. Encouraging students to discover differences in life between under rule of the kings and under rule of the Administrators. Information known NOT to be on the end of Yearly Official Uniform Department of Instruction Exam.”
Lemuel looked at the note for a moment and snickered. If you took the first letters of each of the words from the title of the test, it spelled YOU DIE.
Suddenly, everything became very easy in his life.
---
Knock-knock . . . knock-knock-knock.
Oh, if only he hadn’t got the expedition out on time, Perrin sighed to himself. But here he was, knocking on the door in a rhythm that, if Perrin were ever to hear it in a musical piece, would likely make him want to break the musician’s arm.
“Come in.”
Thorne opened the door but he wasn’t smiling. In fact, today there was a determined look that Perrin hadn’t seen since the captain first arrived at the fort. It was solid and hot and, for once, honest.
“Sir, I found a young man who’ll be exercising my horse Streak.”
“Fine,” Perrin said. He didn’t care, but for some odd reason Thorne always felt the need to tell him every little thing he did. He was a three-year-old, hungry for assurance that he was perfect and the favorite.
“I just wanted you to know. I have everything under control.”
Perrin leaned back in his chair. “That’s quite a claim, Captain. No one can ever have everything under control. Control is an illusion.”
Thorne’s piercing gaze sharpened even more. “Oh, I don’t think so, Colonel. I’ll prove that to you. And you will be most impressed and astonished, sir. I promise you that.”
Perrin sighed at the captain’s enigmatic response. “Thorne, I don’t really enjoy being astonished. Not a lot of good comes when something is ‘astonishing.’ Just so you know.”
“You will this time, sir,” Thorne said evenly.
There was no sign of the captain’s normal simpering, but a clear resolve that made the hairs on the back of Perrin??
?s neck stand on end.
Captain Thorne had a new strategy, but for what?
“I promise you, sir—this time, you’ll be impressed.”
After he shut the door, Perrin exhaled. “And I really hate being impressed.”
---
Lannard was a few minutes late the next day, and ran panting to the tackle shed to find Captain Thorne already taking the saddle off the post.
“I’m sorry, sir. I was held back for a time because . . . well, I’m here now.”
Thorne hefted the saddle on Streak’s blanketed back. “What were you held back for, Lannard? I really should know.”
Lannard shifted uncomfortably. “For saying some words that Mrs. Shin finds ‘inappropriate.’”
“Hmm,” Thorne said slightly disappointed. “So she kept you after as punishment?”
“I had to write alternatives on the board. Safe words that wouldn’t offend ‘nice young women,’ ” Lannard bobbed his head in irritation.
Thorne smirked as he crouched to tighten the clasp around Streak’s belly. “Don’t care too much about impressing nice young women yet?”
“Show me one, and I’ll have plenty of ways to impress her.” He waggled his eyebrows and made a suggestive movement.
Thorne chuckled without any humor. “Doesn’t always work the way you plan it, Lannard.”
“Well if she’s isn’t impressed with me, why would I want her?”
Thorne stood up and put his hand on the saddle. “That’s an insightful comment, Lannard. With such intelligence, I don’t understand why you struggle so much in school.”
Lannard turned pink. He took the reins of Streak and rubbed his nose. “Where to today, sir?”
“Take him to the western edge of the village and let him go at a full run for about a mile through the farms and back.”
Lannard began to grin. “If I took him a little farther, I could run him all the way to Moorland and back, sir.”
“I want him exercised, not exhausted!” Thorne snapped. “Besides, Moorland is still off limits.”
“I don’t know why,” Lannard frowned. “It’s dead, isn’t it? If I can’t see the western ruins, I could at least see the Moorland ruins.”
Thorne shook his head. “The Moorland ruins are . . . eerie. It’s deathly quiet and empty. When the wind blows, some men claim to hear shrieks and wails. I’ve never heard that, of course, but the place feels haunted. I’ve seen soldiers arrive, look down, see a bone with the flesh and muscle burned off, and turn and run all the way back to the fort. You really don’t want to see that.”
But Lannard’s eyes lit up when the captain said ‘burned.’
“Honestly, sir, I don’t think I would be spooked.”
“If you’re serious about that, then I’ll take you on holiday at the end of this week. I was going to take a few new recruits over there in the morning, and you can come along. But I’m riding Streak,” Thorne said. Then he added with a grimace, “Maybe Colonel Shin’s Clark needs exercising.”
While it was an admirable horse, the Stables at Pools had been a rival to Thorne’s grandfather’s stables for years. The presence of an animal from there, and named Clark of all things, was an added insult.
“Captain, that would be great! Thank you!”
“But first,” Thorne held up his hand, “first you tell me what you did in school today.”
Lannard rolled his eyes. “Oh, I get it. This is one of those ‘mentor moments,’ isn’t it? ‘I’m interested in your well-being, son. Let’s talk.’”
Thorne’s face froze at Lannard’s cadence and delivery of that line. “You know who you sounded like just then?”
Lannard beamed. “Yes, I do. I’ve been working on my Colonel Shin impersonation for a while now. That’s the way he always started with my older brother when he put him in chains and walked him to incarceration. I’m sure you hear him a lot more than I do. Do you have any suggestions?”
“Yes, don’t do that anywhere near Colonel Shin. He doesn’t have the same sense of humor I do. Do you, uh,” Thorne hesitated, “do you impersonate Mrs. Shin?”
“Not yet, but I’m working on it. I’ve only got the rhythm of a few of her catch phrases down so far. ‘Details! Give me details!’ and ‘You shouldn’t care what’s on the test!’ I’m still trying to figure out how to do her voice.”
Thorne nodded. “How did your homework assignment go today—the differences between the time of the kings and now?” he said as casually as he dared.
Lannard sighed. “Actually, it was pretty interesting, I hate to admit it. When I asked my grandfather about the differences, he had to think about it. Usually he rambles on for hours, but it took him a while to come with something. He said taxes now were more stable, but a bit higher, but Guarder activity has been a lot worse during the past twenty years as if the Guarders weren’t as afraid of the Administrators. Of course there’s been nothing for the past year since Moorland, but you know that. The entertainments are better now, though. But he didn’t know if education was any better. He thought that maybe it had gotten worse. And the Administrators have just as many laws and rules as the kings.”
Thorne sifted through the information. “So what conclusions did the class come to?”
“Well, we’re not allowed to debate,” Lannard raised his eyebrows at the captain, “but we do all the time anyway. Of course Mrs. Shin says its mostly bickering rather than debating, but we decided that things were different under the Administrators but not better. Mrs. Shin told us what school used to be like, just before we all started schooling. Can you imagine being in school for only three hours a day? I could like school that way! That’s when I said life had definitely NOT improved under the Administrators!” Lannard started to laugh but suddenly remembered who he was talking to. He choked on the words that he had already let escape.
The captain stared at him.
Lannard swallowed hard. “Um, I didn’t mean that . . . what I mean is, uh—”
Captain Thorne shook his head. “Don’t worry, I’m not the eyes and ears of the Administrators. And I don’t talk to them unless I have to, so calm down. What did Mrs. Shin say when you declared that the Administrators were no better than the kings?” The captain put on his best friendly face while his mind prepared to take the most extensive and careful mental notes ever.
Lannard shifted nervously, having expected some kind of reprimand. He seemed a little off balance, but saw the captain’s thin smile and hesitantly gave him one back. “She said something like I was obviously capable of independent thought, and she wanted me to do more of that kind of thinking.”
A grin spread across Thorne’s face that wasn’t entirely pleasant. He clapped a hand on teen’s shoulder. “And I agree with her. You nurture that ‘independent thinking.’ It sounds like you have just the right teacher to help you do that.”
Lannard relaxed a little, still uneasy. “If you say so, sir.” He took the reins. “I’ll be back in an hour.”
“Make it two, Lannard. You’ve earned some fun.”
---
3rd Day of Weeding Season, 337.
When student declared life under the Administrators is no better than life under the kings, MPS encouraged him to keep up his independent thinking. Did nothing to dissuade student to think otherwise, nor reinforced a sense of loyalty to the Administrators.
Lemuel smiled. It was too easy. Just too easy.
---
The next day Lannard stood at attention, or at least a relatively close approximation of it, as Captain Thorne walked from the main gates of the fort to the adjoining pasture. Thorne noticed the boy trying to watch him without appearing to be watching him. He definitely needed more practice.
“Lannard, you look . . . uncomfortable,” the captain said as he approached him. “Something wrong?”
“No, sir!”
Thorne paused. “That’s all you have to say today?”
“Yes, sir!”
Thorne scratched his chin. “La
nnard, what do you know?”
“Explanation, sir?”
“The only time a talkative man stops talking is when he finally has something interesting to share. Out with it, boy.”
Lannard squirmed. “I don’t want to offend, sir!”
Thorne scoffed. “I’m not easily offended, Lannard. Come on, what’s with you today? You were far easier yesterday.”
“I didn’t know who you were yesterday, sir!”
“Who I am . . . ? Oh. You mean, who my father is?”
“And your grandfather, sir!”
Thorne nodded. It was only a matter of time before Lannard put it together. “Who told you?”
“My grandfather, sir! When I told him who I was working for, he said you were the grandson of the High General, sir, and, um, that’s a little . . .um,” Lannard’s voice started getting higher.
Thorne smiled thinly. “It’s not anything, Lannard.”
“But what I say, sir, may get back to the High General and to the Chairman and the Administrators,” his voice croaked, “who are celebrating twenty glorious years in power, sir! Almost twenty-one!”
Thorne barked half a laugh. “You really think I write letters to my father and grandfather about the conversations I have with my hired hand? You think they care about the opinions of a sixteen-year-old boy in Edge of all places? Lannard, you give yourself too much credit. And too much worry. And stop with that ridiculous stance already!”
Lannard tried to relax to a more normal posture, appearing instead like a caught fish flopping in different ways to achieve a “casual” position.
“That’s sort of better.” Feeling some sympathy, he took Lannard by the shoulders and shook him a little. “It’s just me, remember?” He practiced his best smile.
It was almost good enough.
“Yes, sir,” Lannard said, a little more comfortably.
“Hey,” Thorne shook him again. “We’re . . . friends,” he stumbled momentarily on the word as if it were one that rarely crossed his lips. “Right? Right? Who else but a friend would sneak you over to Moorland when you’re not a soldier?”
Lannard finally smiled. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now don’t let the thought that someday I’m going to be High General distress you in any way.”
Lannard’s eyes flared in alarm.
“You don’t have much of a sense of humor, do you Lannard?”
Lannard considered the comment. “I don’t know that anyone has ever said that to me before, sir.”
Thorne shrugged. “So, you know the routine. You get to ride, but first you tell me what you learned in school today.”
Lannard smiled easily as he followed Captain Thorne into the shed. “Today was pretty dull until in science we got into a debate—
discussion . . . bickering session about the origin of the universe. You know the explosion theory? Well Mrs. Shin has her own theories.”
“Tell me all of them, Lannard.”
Chapter 28 ~ “It’s not that simple, Yung!”