The middle-aged woman sat stunned on the front row. She could hardly bring herself to move, but that’s not how she felt initially.
Just fifteen minutes before she’d been anxiously squirming, eager to bolt out of the amphitheater and tell everyone what they were saying.
But she couldn’t, because then she would have missed everything else. She had a duty to perform.
Her main obligation had been to be a midwife for the colonel’s daughter, and she’d met the young mother-to-be last week. But she also had another duty should the opportunity arise: be a reporter.
Oh they had trained her and all, certainly not anticipating she’d ever actually use that training. They expected her to be in Edge for three moons at the most, until all seemed well with Mrs. Briter and her baby. But things come up, and just in case something interesting occurred, she could report a few things back to them as well.
But Mrs. Braxhicks was sure no one expected anything like this!
She certainly didn’t when she heard the buzz in the village about the mandatory meeting and the rumor that there was news about Terryp’s land. Mrs. Braxhicks knew she had to be there, front and center, to make a report later to her husband and the others in the woods, in case Shem Zenos couldn’t.
But even though she got there an hour early front and center was already taken, and she had to be satisfied with front and behind the speakers a bit on the backward curve of the amphitheater. At first she was quite put out with that arrangement, until she realized it put her—providentially, as that boorish Idumean had sneered—in a position to watch Mrs. Shin. She knew her ability to read lips would come in handy, although she could still hear Mrs. Shin’s murmuring at the end.
At first she didn’t know who this remarkably brave yet stupid woman was who leaped to her feet. Before she could ask anyone around her, the audience was tittering, “Mrs. Shin? What’s Mrs. Shin doing?”
That’s when Mrs. Braxhicks sat up even taller, trying to see over the platform to watch the small woman’s attempted debate. When Mrs. Shin began up the stairs, Mrs. Braxhicks found her fists clenched by her face in dread and worry, but also in pride for the woman. Then, as she faced Mr. Kori, something astonishing rushed across Mrs. Shin’s face. Mrs. Braxhicks noticed, probably as well as General Shin did: the sudden change of expression, the widening of the eyes as she began to murmur, and then she said the words that made Mrs. Braxhicks’s mouth drop open.
“Just like Queruls’ servants . . .”
How in the world did Mrs. Shin know about Queruls’ servants?!
A moment later she realized, of course, how ridiculous to not remember, that her grandfather-in-law was the man who freed them. But wasn’t all of that meant to be kept secret?
Then Mrs. Shin started on about the barn, and falcons, and everyone being trapped . . . and that’s when Mrs. Braxhicks knew everything was about to change.
In a way she was glad it was Mrs. Shin who stood up, because Mrs. Braxhicks was so irate that she was about to leap to her own feet, although she knew that would have been the very worst thing in the world for her to do. Many years ago her aunt, a midwife in Idumea, had dared to speak up, then found herself being questioned by Administrator Gadiman himself, and so she made a mad dash for the seclusion of the trees. Several moons later the Administrator of Family Life released a study explaining how having more than two children made a woman insane, and it would have been laughable if it hadn’t been so finite. There was a lot of speculation about how much her aunt had influenced the creation of that study, and several debates as to whether things had gone too far, but Hifadhi had put an end to all of that by saying that what was done, was done, and all that anyone could do moving forward was to remain very quiet and very anonymous.
Shem Zenos had failed at that, miserably, but many others maintained a subtle presence. Mrs. Braxhicks knew her position was only temporary, and surely she could maintain a low profile for just a few moons, couldn’t she?
So she watched in morbid fascination as Mrs. Shin finally—finally—recognized the truth, only to have her husband stand in her way.
That’s when Mrs. Braxhicks’ mouth hung open so far she didn’t know if she could ever shut it again. Something was very wrong. Colonel Shin was suddenly General Shin, and while in one way that was likely right, it was also very, very wrong.
It wasn’t supposed to happen this way, was it?
A part of her began to panic that maybe—just maybe—it wouldn’t end the way it was supposed to.
Then Mrs. Shin was forced back to her bench, where she still sat now being watched over that nasty Thorne, and General Shin huffed off the platform with such fury that Mrs. Braxhicks shrank back a bit in worry, just in case his determined glare happened to shift over to her as he headed down the back stairs. Fortunately he seemed to be lost in his own swirling thoughts, and Mrs. Braxhicks was finally able to make her legs stand up and work her way around to the front of the platform.
While nearly everyone else had hurried out in a dismayed hum, a few villagers lingered, making their ways to the exits to pick up their copies of the dubiously fascinating findings, but also trying to see what would happen to Mrs. Shin and her children sitting restlessly next to her.
Mrs. Braxhicks knew she was doing the same thing, but she had a purpose besides simply being a nosy neighbor. She wanted to catch their eyes—at least poor Jaytsy Briter’s, who seemed to be nearly hysterical—and she wanted to somehow communicate that she . . .
Well, what would she say to them if she had the opportunity? She hadn’t been trained that thoroughly. Her additional responsibility—should it come up—was only to report. Not to contact, not to speak, not to interfere. That was most important—don’t interfere.
Mrs. Braxhicks sighed, knowing there was nothing else she could do except pick up a copy or two of the findings and deliver them to her husband and the others in the trees, then go about her business as midwife to Mrs. Briter and the other two future mothers she found in Edge looking for someone a little more experienced than what Idumea was sending around.
She tried one more time to make eye contact with any of the Shins or Briters, but felt distinctly this was beyond her ability. Increasingly anxious, she picked up her pace to bustle out of the amphitheater.
---
The amphitheater was emptying rapidly, with no villagers daring to look at the Shin family. That was fine with Mahrree. Anyone whose eyes she met would most likely have burst into flame. She continued to stare at the now-empty platform, waiting for every last person to leave before she’d finally stand up.
That’s when she heard Peto say, “No, that’s all right. I’ll see that she reaches home safely.”
Mahrree shifted her glare to the four soldiers now surrounding her family.
Deck stood up quickly. “Thank you, but we can take care of her. Come, Mahrree.”
With surprising gumption Deck took his mother-in-law’s arm and pulled her up. Peto quickly took the other side and Jaytsy tried not to wobble to her feet.
“Dessert must be ready, don’t you think, Mother?” she asked in forced brightness, wiping tears off her face.
Mahrree went along only because she didn’t want her children see her fight off four soldiers. At least, that’s what she told herself.
They left the amphitheater and walked across the green in quiet dread through crowds that instantly silenced when they saw them. Despite Deck and Peto’s assurances, the four soldiers followed several paces behind.
Mahrree’s thoughts reeled. He once called me a traitor, she remembered. Years ago, right after Peto was born, and she told him she wanted more children. But he had traitorous thoughts as well, in Idumea. Had he forgotten that? Has he forgotten everything except that ridiculous title? That must be what power does to a man: erases what he knows and makes him remember only what services him at the moment. Why didn’t he speak up? He knew the truth as well as she did. Together they could have changed things! If only he would have said something!
r />
“Mahrree, just a little slower,” Deck murmured as he marched next to her. “Jaytsy can’t keep up.”
Mahrree tried to slow down but her anger propelled her onward.
“I’ve got her, Deck,” Peto said on the other side of Mahrree. “Go help your wife.”
Mahrree cringed at the sound of his voice. So like Perrin’s. He’d be seventeen soon, but he was already acting like a man. He seemed to have aged a decade that evening.
“Don’t worry, Mother. This isn’t going to last.”
“You of all people should be happy about his becoming a general, Peto,” Mahrree said in a low snarl. “Then going to Idumea? Your grandfather would’ve been pleased. So why aren’t you?”
Peto sighed. “It’s not right. Relf wouldn’t have wanted this either, I know. I can’t explain it, but I won’t allow it. Nothing will happen to this family. We won’t go to Idumea, I promise you.”
Mahrree clutched his arm. “Thank you!” she whispered. “It’s all a lie, Peto. Nothing’s wrong with those lands. It’s a way to keep us all here, just like Querels’ servants.”
“I know,” Peto murmured. “I feel it too. Really, you need to slow down a little. Jaytsy’s going to be run over by the soldiers. I think she’s waddling on purpose.”
The soldiers maintained their quick step, but could go no faster than Jaytsy and Deckett. Several neighbors on their way home steered clear of the odd parade.
When they reached home Mahrree strode through her front gate, up the stairs to the door, flung it open, and waved to her three followers who quickly headed inside. She sent a stabbing glance to the soldiers and slammed the door shut.
Mahrree stomped to a chair at the table and sat down in it almost hard enough to splinter it. She stared at the stone wall trying to think, trying to understand what happened to Perrin . . . to their entire world. Everything was wrong.
In her fury she barely noticed her children exchanging anxious looks. Peto and Deck murmured together, and then Peto bounded up the stairs. Deck came over to the table and did something around the secret drawer. Peto came down a moment later, motioned to Deck, then darted into the kitchen with Deck right behind him.
Jaytsy kneeled in front of her mother, an admirable thing to do for a woman just two moons from birthing.
“Mother, I’m sure there’s an explanation for all of this,” she said as optimistically as she could, which was rather grim. “I’m sure Father will be home soon and, and . . .”
“And what?” Mahrree snapped. “What will come next?”
Jaytsy bit her lip and nervously glanced at the front door.
Mahrree sighed. “Oh, Jaytsy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. Well, I did, but . . . I can’t think right now. Come here—you should be sitting, not me.” She got up and pulled Jaytsy on to the chair. Kneeling in front of her she said, “I promise you, I’ll not be going to Idumea. Neither will Peto. We’ve already decided: we’ll be here for you and Deck and the baby.”
“But Father—”
“—will do whatever he feels he must do, even if he thinks his duty is to defend this ridiculous development and deny everything we believe. He’s going to do it alone! I’ll not leave this house. Ever. Do you understand me?”
Jaytsy seemed as if she were about to burst into tears again, but she nodded. “Of course.”
Mahrree stood up and brushed down her skirt. “I need to do something. This house is too clean. We already ate, so there’s nothing to cook. I need to . . .” She looked around, wringing her restless hands.
The idea hit her so clearly she couldn’t imagine why she didn’t think of it before.
“Garden!” she clapped her hands. “It’s time that front garden was tended to!”
“Mother?” Jaytsy’s eyebrows rose.
“Yes, time to learn to weed. Deckett!” she called. “Tell me what tools I need to garden.”
Deck stuck his head out of the kitchen, startled. “Uh, well usually for your garden I would recommend . . .” But when he saw his wife frantically shaking her head he tried again. “You need a hand digger,” he said, knowing full well she didn’t have one. “It looks like a big fork—”
“Then I’ll get one!” Mahrree strode into the kitchen, pushing past Deck.
Peto was by the back door looking out the window. “Mother, I’m pretty certain there’s a soldier or two in the alley.”
Mahrree rummaged in a drawer until she found one of the good serving forks, taken from Hycymum’s house. “What do I care for soldiers?” She brandished the fork with fearsome glee and marched to the front door.
Her son and son-in-law watched from the kitchen, and Jaytsy shifted in her chair to observe her mother’s madness unfold.
Mahrree yanked open the door to the evening, began to take one step, but stopped.
The burly soldier blocking her way asked, “May I be of service?”
“You can get off my property. I didn’t ask for you to be here.”
“I’m here for your protection, Mrs. Shin.”
She wasn’t buying that. “Protect me from what?”
“Guarders, Mrs. Shin. Some have been sighted this evening. I’m here for your protection,” he repeated.
“Oh really?” Mahrree put her hands on her hips. “So why are there no banners up? No citizens running around terrified?” She gestured with the large sharp fork to the neighbors across the road talking in hushed tones to passers-by.
It wasn’t difficult to guess the topic at hand. They took one look at Mahrree wielding the oversized utensil and quickly made their way down the road.
“Tell me,” Mahrree squinted at the sergeant, a man whom she’d known for six years but who now seemed quite unfamiliar, “are you really here to defend the wife of the colonel,” she sighed in exasperation as she corrected herself, “the general, or is your duty something different entirely?”
“I’m here for your protection,” he recited, growing uneasy under the examination of Mrs. Shin.
“And I’m here to weed my garden,” she pushed past him.
“That’s your right,” he replied and remained at attention.
Mahrree looked around in the twilight at her patch of land. She didn’t even know where to start, so she found the biggest weed that she didn’t think was a tree in disguise. Kneeling in the dirt, she began to hack away with her fork. Every ounce of anger she poured into that unfortunate bit of hard ground, and it splintered and flaked, sending bits of gravel into the air. One of the tines of the fork bent when it hit a rock, but Mahrree kept pounding.
It was unexpectedly satisfying.
“I should have taken this up years ago!” she exclaimed, stabbing the dirt harder and harder as if she had to kill it, her hair flipping wildly, and sweat building on her forehead.
Eventually she paused. “At some point I’m to pull something out of the ground, aren’t I?” she asked the dirt. She glanced at the soldier, daring him to answer.
He shrewdly didn’t.
Vaguely aware of three pairs of eyes watching her from the open front door, she was about to speak to them when she heard a commotion down the road.
She scrambled to her feet, and her three children joined her.
Around the corner on the main fort road they appeared, at least twenty soldiers marching, with Captain Thorne and General Shin in the lead.
“In the house, NOW!” Mahrree ordered, but she didn’t need to. Already Peto was pulling her to the steps.
Jaytsy stood rigidly on the porch. “Father will stop for me—”
“I’m more worried about Thorne,” said Deck, and pulled her inside. He shut the door when everyone was in.
Mahrree planted herself back in her chair, her stomach twisting.
The soldiers? She had expected them to pay her a visit. Led by Captain Thorne? Naturally.
But the general?
What does this mean? What does this mean?
Deck escorted Jaytsy to the kitchen and ordered her
to stay behind the door.
Mahrree gripped the armrests of her chair. How could Perrin do this to them? His family, running and hiding from him? How did everything go so wrong, so suddenly?
Peto rushed into the kitchen as well, and when Mahrree heard the clang of steel a moment later, she spun around and stared at her son.
He stood at the base of the staircase and regarded her with a mixture of sorrow and determination. Perrin’s old sword was in Peto’s hand, pointed down, but ready. Mahrree was sure he’d aged another half a dozen years in the last few minutes.
She clenched her teeth. Peto had never wanted to be an officer, yet tonight he held an officer’s weapon. It didn’t look right in his grip as he stood his ground a few feet in front of the kitchen door, which was opened a crack so that Jaytsy could peek through.
Mahrree nodded curtly at them. Had it really come to this? She remembered younger versions of her and Perrin sitting across from each other at that table, almost nineteen years ago. They had jokingly vowed to never kill each other.
She turned back around and realized that Deck had taken position by the fireplace a few feet from her. He stared intently at the front door and steadied his hold on Perrin’s long knife that he’d retrieved from the secret drawer in the table.
“Whatever happens, Deckett Briter,” she said to him, “you care for Jaytsy and Peto. Keep yourself out of this mess as much as possible so you can take care of them. Promise me!”
“Of course, Mahrree. Of course!” But his hand trembled.
The door swung open without a knock and Perrin—the General—strode in, followed by Captain Thorne and four more soldiers, including Sergeant Major Zenos, leaving the rest outside.
Shem’s eyes said nothing as he blankly gazed at Mahrree, his face as wooden as the general’s.
Mahrree nearly whimpered. Even Shem?
Oh how she detested those uniforms! They changed the wearers into soulless puppets, and that dark blue was like the sky just before a violent thunderstorm. One was brewing around her, and she was going to be the one who released it in her house—no one else.
Mahrree stood up with hatred so hot she thought she’d ignite as she faced the general. He better not assume he was sleeping here tonight!
“Mahrree Peto Shin—” General Shin began in that unfamiliar voice. He even wore those ludicrous black gloves General Thorne added to the generals’ uniforms. Last year Perrin had made fun of the skin-tight gloves. Now, he was just as ridiculous as all of them.
“Get out of my house, you son of a sow!” Mahrree shouted at the large blue body.
Captain Thorne flinched as if he’d been slapped.
The general merely raised one eyebrow at her use of the coarse phrase and repeated, “Mahrree Peto Shin—”
“I answer only Mahrree Peto!”
“Mahrree!” the general said abruptly and took a threatening step toward her.
Peto wielded the old sword and held it at the ready with surprising steadiness.
General Shin flicked him a glance before turning back to his wife. “I’m here to ask if you intend to continue to demand the resolutions of this evening be debated. I am here to ascertain if you will continue to refuse to accept the findings of this Administration.”
Mahrree nearly rolled her eyes. Now he even sounded like the Administrators, with their inability to say anything without a jumble of jargon. Try as she might, Mahrree couldn’t control her shaking. She thought she heard her daughter whimper and was aware that her son-in-law had stepped closer. There was only one response her conscience would allow her to speak.
“Yes! With my dying breath!”
Jaytsy clearly whimpered that time, but Mahrree couldn’t stop to think about her.
“I will defend the right for any one to question any thing. Each person has the right to find her own answers and believe as she wishes!”
The general’s gaze was so sharp she felt as if he was cutting straight through her, while the soldiers behind him fidgeted.
“General,” Captain Thorne said cagily. “You now know her mind—”
“Yes, I do. Thank you, Captain,” he intoned, not taking his eyes off of Mahrree.
“General!” Thorne said louder. “This is precisely the moment I’ve been trying to prepare you for—”
Shin’s hard glare turned abruptly to the captain.
Thorne’s mouth remained open, but no more words came out.
Shin shifted his stare back to his wife.
“And why are you now suddenly a general?” Mahrree demanded.
The general didn’t even blink. “Cush is dead. Messenger came this morning with the promotion, effective immediately. I’m to leave for Idumea as soon as possible. The Administrators have requested my presence to announce the new High General. And,” his dull cadence continued, “according to the aide of Administrator Genev, you, Mrs. Shin, are to join me. The Office of Loyalty demands your attendance.”
Deck gasped and he took another step closer to hold her arm, for which she was grateful, even though a minute before she told him to stay out of this.
So this was the end.
The end of everything. Of Edge, of her family. Everything.
“Captain, you and the others will wait outside,” the new general said icily, still focused on Mahrree. “I’ll handle this alone.”
“But—” Thorne started, but clamped his mouth shut when General Shin raised a hand, all the more intimidating sheathed in black.
Thorne turned to the door, and the soldiers filed out to leave the Shins’ staring match undisturbed.
“Now that I’m sure of your mind—” General Shin began, and with a swift movement that no one anticipated, he drew Relf’s sword.
Mahrree stiffened in shock as Jaytsy screamed.
“No!” Peto cried. “Not like this!” He charged his father.
General Shin threw Relf’s sword on the table, sidestepped Peto’s rush, caught his neck from behind with one hand, and deftly grabbed the blade his old sword with his other, without even nicking his gloves.
Peto fell to his knees gasping in pain from the powerful pinch his father delivered to his nerve, and released the hilt. With one smooth motion, the general flipped the sword in the air and caught it by the hilt.
Mahrree finally found her voice, and with it she screamed. The general had brandished the sword right across her chest, the point just inches away from Deck’s heart.
Deck froze in his rush to help Peto. The long knife was in his outstretched hand aimed at the general, several inches too short. A pitchfork would have been better tonight.
Jaytsy’s panicked sobs carried throughout the house as the family remained motionless in their positions.
When Mahrree thought of the incident later, she considered how impressed with Perrin’s power, speed, and skill she would’ve been had he not been simultaneously threatening to break her son’s neck and run through her daughter’s husband.
“Stand down, boy,” the general rumbled at Deck. He stared past the dull silver blade at his son-in-law, who trembled and knew he was clearly at a disadvantage.
“Deck, drop it!” Mahrree cried.
Reluctantly, he dropped the knife.
The general immediately dropped his old sword on top of it.
Mahrree stared at the blades, clattering on top of each other.
Wait a minute—
The general released Peto who, also perplexed, crumpled in a heap in front of his mother.
The general, with complete composure, removed his cap, placed it upside down on the table next to Relf’s gleaming sword which still vibrated, and began to peel off the dark dress gloves.
“As I was saying before I was interrupted,” the general began and glanced at his son who remained on the floor rubbing his neck, “now that I know your mind, Mahrree, the decision is obvious.”
He dropped the gloves into the cap and unbuttoned his jacket.
His family coul
d only gape.
The general wrenched off his jacket and retrieved the long knife from the floor. “Captain!” he shouted. “Get in here.”
Mahrree stared in bewilderment as the general held up his jacket. The door flung open and Thorne rushed in, followed by Zenos and three other soldiers with their hands on the hilts of their swords.
“You are my witness, Captain Thorne,” said General Shin.
Mahrree finally found something to say. “What are you doing?”
Already he’d slipped the knife under the patch of the Administrators’ official mark and sliced cleanly through the stitching. It fell neatly on top of the gloves in the cap.
“General?” questioned the captain as he came up and stood next to Mahrree. His astonishment matched hers.
With two more quick slices the general released two more insignias.
Mahrree stared at one of the patches, with the sword imposed on top of a pine tree. For some inexplicable reason, it looked completely different to her, as if seeing it sideways in the cap suddenly gave it new meaning. The tiny sword was pointed to the mountains behind her.
Perrin yanked the new mountain lion pin from its position above his name badge, leaving a small tear in the woolen jacket, and dropped it into his cap. After tossing the knife on the table, where it clanked against Relf’s sword, he picked up the cap.
“You may inform General Thorne, Chairman Mal, and the Administrators that today, the 6th Day of Planting Season, I officially resigned from the army. This is the end . . . of my career.”
For Mahrree, the room seemed to have been turned abruptly on its side. She gripped the chair back to brace herself.
Peto put his head in his hands.
Deck sat down hard in Mahrree’s empty chair.
Jaytsy sobbed anew in the kitchen.
But Shem grinned.
The general had simply vanished and left Mr. Shin in his place.
Perrin handed his cap to the startled captain, nudging his hand to take it. “This will go down, no doubt, as the shortest tenure of a general in our history,” he smiled casually. “For your information, I’m keeping the jacket. My parents paid for that, and I earned those ribbons and medals. But the cap, well, I never liked it. As for the black dress gloves? Those are the worst idea after brass buttons and pins that look like mountain lions. Be sure to tell your father that. And gloves make it difficult to keep a secure hold of one’s sword. The insignias in the cap belong to the Administrators, as well as this sword. It’s a general’s sword, after all.” Perrin turned to retrieve it from the table and glanced at Peto before saying, “And it was the first thing I wanted to rid myself of.”
Peto offered an apologetic wince.
Thorne’s mouth was wide open as he automatically took the sword in his other hand. His jaw worked up and down before it remembered how to form words. “General, you can not be serious. When we accompanied you here tonight I thought it was because you were finally ready to . . . to . . .” He looked at Mahrree and stopped in mid-gesture with the sword.
Mahrree gave Thorne a worried sidelong glance and sidled away.
“My mind has always been the same as hers,” Perrin stated firmly. “And my name is Perrin Shin, not general. You and your men are free to leave. Including the ones hiding behind my woodshed.”
Thorne, realizing there was nothing left to say or do, stumbled out the door, his arms filled with the former general’s effects, and was followed by the other stunned soldiers.
Except for Sergeant Major Zenos who stood straighter than he ever had and saluted, with a tear sliding down his face.
Perrin cleared his throat roughly and gave him a look only the two of them understood.
Shem dropped his arm, nodded at the family—his eyes brimming with what seemed oddly like joy—then left the house, shutting the door behind him.
Outside, Shem noticed the other soldiers were back in formation, but bewilderedly. Captain Thorne stood at the head of them, staring blankly at the cap and insignias in one hand and the sword in his other, as if he’d never before seen such things.
“Time to go home, Captain Thorne!” Shem ordered.
Thorne looked up at him as if coming out of a dream, and nodded dumbly. He started for the fort, the soldiers following reluctantly.
Zenos paused before bringing up the rear, a small smile forming on his face that no one in the dark could see.
“The wait is finally over, Shin family,” he whispered. “Time to go home!”
---
Inside, Deck rushed to the kitchen to check on Jaytsy.
Peto still sat on the floor, staring at his father who tossed his army jacket sloppily on the table and seemed chagrined that he did so.
“I can’t believe you did that,” Mahrree whispered, holding on to the table for support, but not quite yet daring to hold on to Perrin. Just a moment ago he was a general she hated. Her emotions were having a difficult time catching up to the events of evening, and something about him still seemed so distant.
Perrin grunted, still focused on his crumpled jacket that he never set down unless it was properly. “A part of me can’t believe I resigned either,” he said. “But it was the right thing to do,” he added.
He turned to Mahrree. “You’re a little pale,” he said, concerned.
She hadn’t dare look at him yet, worried about what she might see in his eyes. Still watching his jacket as if it would jump to life at any moment, she exclaimed, “Why shouldn’t I be! After everything that just happened, and—” Her chin waggled.
He took her gently by the arm, and she finally looked up into his eyes. His dark brown eyes that still—still—had the effect of disrupting her breathing. Something in them smoldered in the old familiar way, but his eyes were ringed with worry.
“Mahrree, Mahrree, what did you think was going to happen?”
She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. When she finally formed words, they hardly made sense. “You just stood there, and didn’t say anything . . . and then you were forcing me off the platform, and the mountain lion pin, and ‘general’ and . . .” The tears started. “I didn’t know what to think!”
Perrin, never quite sure to do with her on the rare occasions that she cried, pulled her into him, which was an appropriate move. “Did you really think I could go along with any of this?”
“But you were!” Her voice was muffled against his chest. The same chest that just minutes ago wore a uniform that designated him as General Shin. Who was now gone . . .
It was going to take awhile to sort it all out in her head.
“You didn’t tell me anything, or look at me about anything.”
He surprised her by chuckling sadly. “What look is there that I could possibly give you that says, ‘By the way, our entire way of life is now completely undone’?”
She almost chuckled back. “Why didn’t you give us a hint?”
“When? It’s been a rather full day, Mahrree!” He sighed. “The messenger that came up this morning handed me the mountain lion pin, said that Chairman Mal insisted I put it on immediately, and then announced that Cush had died yesterday, and that I was to report for Idumea as soon as possible. I’d barely received that information when the coaches arrived with their ‘findings.’ Mahrree, even you have to admit that all of that was a little much for just one look. I had no idea what to tell Shem, except that you shouldn’t come to the fort until I had everything sorted out.”
“Doesn’t seem like it sorted out very well,” she whimpered.
“Actually, I think the general thing sorted out quite well.” He sounded genuinely cheerful. “Except for you and me. What happened to you at the amphitheater?”
“To me?” she pulled away to look at him, and noticed his expression was still anxious despite his effort to appear confident. “What happened to you? You turned into a general! I thought my husband was gone forever and . . .” The stupid tears started again.
“Didn??
?t we work this out in Idumea?” Perrin whispered, taking her face in his hands and brushing away a tear with his thumb. “When you start spouting off, I need to shut off. With as angry as you became tonight, one of us had to stay calm. If I agreed with you up there in front of everyone, Thorne would have killed us both, I’m sure of it. Or we would have been incarcerated by Genev’s assistant. But fortunately for this family I’ve learned some self-control.” He smiled drearily. “You silly woman. I remembered my vows. All of them—including the one to not kill you,” he chuckled. “That’s what you thought was going to happen here, isn’t it?”
Mahrree felt utterly foolish. Yes, she thought he had abandoned them. Instead he abandoned the army and everything he’d known and lived for his entire life.
Now he was only Perrin Shin.
No general could have been greater than Perrin Shin.
“I did,” she confessed, “and I’ve never been happier to admit that I was wrong.”
He grinned. “I definitely want that in writing!” He leaned in to kiss her, but stopped just as his lips brushed hers. “Wait a minute. I just remembered.” He pulled away from her. “You called me a son of a sow?”
“But I didn’t mean it!” she insisted. “The general—he was the son of a sow!” There she was, saying it again, and all she could do was slap her hand over her mouth.
But her husband was already grinning. “I didn’t realize you even knew that phrase.”
“I teach teenage boys, remember? I know all kinds of things.”
“I’m learning all kinds of things as well,” said Peto cautiously, standing up behind his father.
Perrin kissed Mahrree before turning to his son. “I don’t know whether to praise you or punish you for what you tried to do today.”
Peto bobbled his head back and forth. “I could say the same thing about you, you know.”
Mahrree wondered when her son had become so brave.
Perrin cracked a smile. “Agreed. But Peto, what did you think you were going to do with my old sword?”
His son squirmed. “I, uh . . . was hoping to stop you . . . from whatever it was I thought you were about to do.”
Perrin released a low whistle. “I don’t really want to think on any of that.”
“Neither do I!” Peto said. “Sorry, about everything. I just wasn’t sure, and Deck and I were worried, and—”
Before Peto could finish his rambling apology, Perrin caught him in a brief but fierce hug.
“Just don’t ever do something like that again,” Perrin said as he released his son. “However, I’m proud of you for trying to defend your mother against my resignation.” He picked up his old sword and examined it. “Needs a bit of polishing, but still sharp. I’ll put it away in a better hiding spot later.”
“Father?” Peto cleared his throat nervously, “when I charged you . . . you dropped Grandfather’s sword on the table.”
Perrin continued to examine the tarnished blade. “I did.”
Peto swallowed before saying, “You didn’t mean to, did you?”
Mahrree had been wondering that herself. It was almost as if Relf’s sword had slid itself out of Perrin’s gloved grip. Maybe the gloves hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.
Perrin was silent, pretending to rub at a smudge. Eventually he said, “No, I didn’t.” He shifted his gaze to his now-pale son. “I was acting on instinct. For twenty-five years I’ve been conditioned how to respond when I see someone coming at me with a blade. I don’t even think; I just react. For that reason alone I should never take up another sword.” He threw it on the table. “I’m sorry, Peto. The gloves are stupid, but tonight they saved your life.
“But I don’t think that was entirely everything,” he said as the three of them watched his old sword slow its vibration. “As ridiculous as this may sound, I don’t think my father’s sword would have tolerated its use in taking an innocent life. I know it’s an inanimate object, but I think somehow it would exact revenge for someone using it wrongly. It’s as if it slipped out of my gloves to avoid harming you.”
“Perhaps it still carries part of Relf Shin’s spirit?” Peto said.
Perrin looked up from the table, nodded at his son, and blinked away the wetness in his eyes. “Maybe it was Relf himself.”
Mahrree sniffed and put an arm around her husband’s waist, realizing it was safe again to touch him.
Peto nodded once, the color slowly coming back to his face. “I’m just glad I didn’t have to knock any sense into you, Mr. Shin. I never thought I would be so upset about you becoming a general.”
Perrin turned to him. “That struck me as odd, too. Care to explain?”
“No.”
Perrin studied his son, as if he could find more of an answer in him somewhere, but instead called out, “Deck? How’s my daughter?”
“Jaytsy!” Mahrree cried as she remembered she had another child, and rushed to the kitchen with Perrin behind her.
They found their daughter on the floor, still weeping.
Deck was cradling her and rocking. “She’s all right. She’s just a little emotional again,” he said, visibly concerned. He looked up at Mahrree. “You know, cows just don’t behave this way when they’re expecting. A little extra mooing maybe, but not like this . . .”
“I do know,” Perrin said. “Remember, we talked about ‘the condition?’” He winked at Deck.
“I can’t tell you how good it is to see you back, Perrin!” Deck said. “Sorry about the whole long knife thing. I see why pitchforks are better, though.”
Perrin chuckled and crouched next to him. “I never intended to run you through, by the way. Peto, yes. But you? Never.”
Perrin put his hand under Jaytsy’s chin and lifted it. “And I’m sorry I worried all of you today.”
Jaytsy sniffled and giggled. “I’m all right, really. I’m just more relieved than anything, Father. And I still get to call you Father!” She reached up to hug him. “And Grandpy!”
“How could I possibly leave my grandbaby?” he said as he embraced her and sat on the floor by her. “Just . . . just not Grandpy, all right? We’ll find another name.”
Mahrree sat down on the floor by Jaytsy, which left Peto standing all by himself.
“Well that was an exciting evening,” he said. “Now what?”
Mahrree exhaled. “Good question . . . now what?”
Perrin’s brow furrowed. “We’ve just started a high stakes game of dices with Idumea, I’m afraid.”
“What’s dices?” Deckett asked.
“A dumb game where soldiers throw dice, pretend they know what numbers will come up, and bet against each other,” Peto said, sitting down on the wood floor across from his brother-in-law. “You know, we do have a sofa and stuffed chairs out in the gathering room,” he pointed out as he leaned against a cabinet and a knob caught him on the back of the head.
Mahrree shuddered. “A few too many raw and recent memories out there right now. They’ll fade by morning, though. This is nice, all of us together in a circle on the floor.” Realizing how odd that sounded, she added, “Glad I swept thoroughly before we left for the amphitheater,” and recognized, as Jaytsy giggled, that sounded even more ridiculous.
Everything about the evening had been ridiculous.
Perrin smiled at his family. “Yes, this is just fine. Deck, Peto’s version of dices is a bit abbreviated, but accurate enough. We just threw a set of dice, then declared what we think the next roll will be. Now we have to wait for Idumea to see if, and how, it will bet against us.”
Deck frowned. “Sounds like a mere game of chance.”
“It is,” Perrin agreed. “But fortunately that’s really not what we’re playing right now. We’ve created a very complicated situation that will take Idumea several weeks to unravel, if they don’t get frustrated and give up all together.”
Mahrree twisted to look at him. “Exactly what have we done?” she asked, worriedly. She hadn’t yet stopped t
o think of long term consequences to any of this. A few minutes ago she was just trying to get through the night alive.
Perrin tried to put on The Dinner smile, which told Mahrree the situation was indeed bleak. “The initial plan was for you to accompany me to Idumea tomorrow to be questioned about your protests by the Administrator of Loyalty. Genev’s assistant was on the platform and insisted that you be reined in for your behavior.”
Mahrree went paler than milk, and Peto whispered, “Reined in? Oh my.”
“I took a quick walk around the green to come up with a plan,” Perrin told them. “You see, it’s one thing for a regular citizen to speak out as you did, but as the wife of the new High General—”
Mahrree gasped. “Were you to be the High General?”
Peto didn’t have a smart comment for that as Jaytsy whimpered and Deck swallowed so hard all of them could hear it.
But Perrin merely shrugged. “That’s what Mal’s message implied,” he said off-handedly. “And that was another thing I was trying to figure out: how to get out of the appointment safely. Qayin Thorne would be furious he wasn’t getting the position. I’m not even sure we would have arrived in Idumea alive.” He rubbed his forehead. “Ah, Mahrree—so much was happening so quickly that I could hardly think!”
She grabbed his arm and hugged it, the only belated comfort she could offer.
“By the time I came back from my walk to ask Genev’s assistant some questions,” Perrin continued, “he already had a new understanding. It seems Rector Yung had spent a few minutes with him explaining how we are ‘cornerstones of the community’ and how anything that happened to Mahrree would most likely generate a great deal of ill-will toward the Administrators. Yung told the assistant that the last thing the Administrators needed, after the disappointing news about the ruins, was an all out riot. And,” Perrin smiled, shaking his head, “he reminded the assistant that I was still considered a hero. Even though the play finally ended last year, the Administrators certainly wouldn’t want a new play surfacing about the untimely downfall of everyone’s favorite colonel’s wife! That Yung—he’s something else, isn’t he? I need to thank him—” He stopped when he noticed Mahrree was horror-stricken.
Worse than that—she was paralyzed, unable to breathe or think.
Her children eyed her worriedly.
“Mahrree, it’s all right!” Perrin took her shoulders and gently shook her, causing her to remember how to breathe again. “We’ve got time, and now we’re regular citizens. The law is a little easier on citizens than for officers. The worst that can happen is that Genev’s assistant will start a file on you. And probably me, now, as well. But they need pages of evidence before they can take us to trial for sedition. There will be only one entry so far.”
Mahrree melted on the kitchen floor.
Perrin put a bracing arm around her to prop her up again. “We’ve created a good and complicated problem here. You spoke as the general’s wife, but I wasn’t officially a general yet—not until I swore the oath in front of Nicko Mal and the garrison. You were still the colonel’s wife, but with my resignation occurring the same day, we’re now both regular citizens, and the law takes into account what you were at the end of the day. And as much as the Administrators like to argue, they’ll take weeks before they come to any consensus about us, if at all. No one would be able to claim that what you and Kori engaged in on the platform was anything like a reasoned debate. And, last but not least, Yung was right—the Administrators can’t risk doing anything to us because I’m loved too much.” He batted his eyelids and Mahrree somehow found the strength to chuckle.
“Besides, now that I am no longer in the army—” he stumbled on the words, which panged Mahrree’s heart, “—the road is wide open for the Thornes. This should make Qayin and Lemuel very happy. I really don’t think anyone will care about me or you, or anything we say or do, ever again. We can now fade away and become as anonymous as everyone else.”
“And as unprotected as well,” Mahrree reminded him.
Perrin sighed. “Well, I’m not so sure about that. I still know a few things, I still have my old sword and long knife. We still have Shem. And a few friends in forts . . .” His voice faltered as he began to wonder about the veracity of that statement. He shook his head and put on a determined smile. “But it’s best we prepare for anything, right? That means training you two—” Perrin pointed at Peto and Deckett “in how to do a thing or two.”
“What do you mean?” Deck asked nervously.
“I may be as old as the both of you put together, but you would have never stood a chance against me,” Perrin said. “Deck, you gripped that knife like it was an udder!”
Deck blushed. “It’s all I know!”
“Considering the circumstances, beginning tomorrow both of you should begin some basic training. I seem to have a surplus of time on my hands now.” More gravely, Perrin added, “I simply don’t know who the soldiers are fighting for anymore. We can’t assume it will be for us. And Deckett, maybe starting tomorrow you can teach me how to hold an udder. I understand that since your wife has been slowing down, you’ve been looking for another farmhand?”
Chapter 32 ~ “And next is . . . ?”