Thorne’s gait had flagged a few times on the way back to the fort, and as he stared at Shin’s career in his hands he felt Zenos come up beside him.
For the first time ever Lemuel let his guard down in front of a mere enlisted man and spoke to Zenos as if he were nearly an equal. “How could he do this? There’s no other life for him—”
“Pick up the pace there, Captain. No other life? Thorne, there are always options.” He sounded far too cheerful.
That put Lemuel on edge as he scoffed. “The only options are general or . . . or nothing!”
Zenos actually chuckled at that. “There are always more options. Always.”
The fort was charged like lightning with activity when their group arrived, the news of the resignation spreading so quickly that there was no need to post a notice.
But everyone fell deathly silent in the command tower when Captain Thorne trudged up to the offices. All but one soldier ran down the stairs to avoid the inevitable confrontation.
In disgust, Thorne dropped the ex-general’s effects on the forward office desk and ordered the staff sergeant that didn’t escape quickly enough to retrieve a file hidden in the captain’s quarters.
In the command office Thorne sat down without hesitation in the forbidden big chair, and pulled out paper and a quill. He thought for a moment, then began to write. The more he wrote the more enraged he became, referring frequently to the file the sergeant brought him. Half an hour later he rolled up the sheets of paper, hastily sealed them together with sloppy gobs of wax, and sent for a messenger.
While he waited, Lemuel looked around the office that Shin would never come to again. The desk he would never again sit behind, and the chair he would never angrily pull Thorne out of.
How could he do it? How could he give it all up, after all these years, after all this work? Just give it all up for . . . a woman?
That woman!
Lemuel ran a finger along a report Shin had completed just yesterday, waiting to be filed. He touched the signature of Colonel Perrin Shin with pangs of remorse. He felt worse about losing Colonel Shin than he was about his grandfather dying.
Then again, General Cush had never saved his grandson’s life.
Lemuel briskly rubbed his eyes to reduce the water building in them. Stupid woman, he thought angrily. Stupid, selfish woman. She ruined him.
The messenger appeared at the door. “Captain?”
Thorne got to his feet, gingerly picked up the roll of sealed pages, and placed them himself in the messenger’s bag. “These need to get to General Thorne and the Chairman, immediately. Take an escort with you.”
“Yes, sir,” said the private. “We’ll leave first thing in the morning . . .” his voice trailed off as he realized that was the wrong thing to say.
“Private, I said immediately. You’ll leave now for Idumea. The safety of this fort, and perhaps all of the world, rests in that bag. If it’s too heavy a burden, I can find someone else!”
The private stood taller. “I am on my way now, sir!” He saluted and ran down the stairs.
Lemuel glanced back at the colonel’s chair. During his first year serving in Edge he saw that chair as his sole goal. But for the past two years he saw it as a representing everything Colonel Shin was—strong, solid, imposing, reliable.
But tonight the chair had a different quality.
It seemed lonely.
His scanned the broad desk with its several drawers, meticulously organized, on each side. There was even a skinny drawer that no one, not even the captain, was to touch. Only Zenos, and only in the event of the death of the colonel.
Lemuel rubbed his palms together. He was, after all, the highest ranking officer now at Fort Shin. The Fort at Edge.
He made his way around the desk, his finger dragging along the edge of it longingly, almost sensuously. Behind the desk he pulled out the chair that desperately desired a body to fill it.
A smile spread across his face as he sat down and pulled opened the narrow “death drawer.” He was momentarily disappointed that all he saw was one parchment envelope, sealed with wax. It was addressed to Shem Zenos, in Perrin Shin’s hand.
Intrigued, Thorne picked it up. “And what is Shem Zenos to do when Perrin Shin is no longer here?”
He broke open the seal.
---
Lieutenant Offra sat down hard on his bunk.
He was gone. Colonel Shin had quit the army, and it was over. No more races. No one to ever call him “son” again. His only real friend in the army was no longer in the army.
Jon Offra was alone again.
He glanced up to make sure the door was locked.
Then he held his head and silently wept like a toddler.
---
When the men are distressed there’s nothing like a little bit of drilling to get them focused again. That was why Sergeant Major Zenos lined up his newest recruits for one of his infamous Know the Forest at Night tours.
“We don’t have raids in broad daylight,” he’d remind them. “They come at night. They sit at the edge of the forest and wait for an opening. You need to know the edge of that forest in the dark.”
That was the standard speech new recruits were warned to expect. The call came just as the men were still talking past lights-out hours about the colonel’s—the general’s—resignation, and were pretending to bunk down.
So at a little past midnight, Zenos and a group of recruits who couldn’t sleep anyway set out on horseback to let the cool air settle their minds. Once out of the confines of the compound, several soldiers asked the sergeant major what the resignation meant.
“It means his name is now just Perrin Shin,” Shem told them, slowing his horse to allow all the soldiers to hear him. Whatever he said that night would be spread to the rest of the fort by dawn; their attitude would be the fort’s attitude. “It means we’ll get a new commander, and all will be well.” He tried to sound convincing.
“But Sarge, why? Why did the colonel—general—resign? Did it have something to do with his wife? I heard she really started a commotion at the amphitheater.”
“Just comes a time, boys,” Shem answered breezily. “He’s been at it for over twenty-five years. Gets a little boring, doing the same work for so long. Maybe he’ll become a builder.”
“Sarge, there’s got to be more to it than that. Come on, you can tell us. You were there, weren’t you? So—”
“Just comes a time, men,” he cut off the inquiry, his tone turning sharp. “Nothing more, nothing to worry about. Actually, now you need to worry about the forest. Fall in!”
Zenos guided the recruits along the edge of the forest and began his cadence.
“What is this, men?”
In unison they responded, “Marshes, sir!”
“Do we like marshes, men?”
“No, sir!”
“Why do we not like marshes, men?”
“They eat horses, sir!”
“Do we like our horses, men?”
“Yes sir!”
“So what do we do with marshes?”
“Avoid them, sir!”
A little further down Zenos called again. “What is this, men?”
“A sinkhole, sir!”
“Do we like sinkholes, men?”
“No sir!”
“Why do we not like sinkholes, men?”
“They eat horses, sir!”
As they drilled about the dangers of the mud pits, steam vents, and the occasional water spouts they passed, Shem fretted again about the timing of his upcoming leave.
Three weeks.
He was leaving tomorrow for three weeks to visit his father.
He told Thorne he could rescind it, considering the situation, but Thorne just gave him his simpering smile and assured him the fort would be just fine. He shouldn’t not leave.
Shem sighed. If the Shins ever needed an alert set of ears in the fort, it was now. And none would be available for them.
“W
hat is this, men?” he called.
“A fresh spring, sir!”
“Do we like fresh springs, men?”
“Yes sir!”
“Why do we like fresh springs, men?”
“They don’t kill the horses, sir!”
In the dark, none of the soldiers noticed a fist-sized rock drop to the ground from the sergeant major’s saddle.
“What do we do about fresh springs, men?”
“Remember where they are, sir!”
“What is this, men?”
“A gulley, sir!”
“Do we like gullies, men?”
“Depends sir!”
“Depends on what, men?”
“Who’s hiding in the gully, sir!”
Five minutes later, after the horses and cadence faded off into the distance, a dark figure dropped from a tree by the spring. It picked up the rock and noiselessly untied the string around it that held a dark and sooty piece of paper. The figure carefully unwrapped the paper and could just make out the words in the darkness.
“Five Plus Out. DTBD.”
He frowned at the writing, pocketed the message, and jogged noiselessly into the forest. A few minutes later he reached other men dressed in green and brown mottled clothing. In the cover of a gully they lit a small lantern and read the message.
“Zenos dropped it?” a man asked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Unusual. How would he know of anyone?”
The man who discovered the note shrugged. “There’s only been a few other times he’s dropped a note like this.”
“DTBD,” a third man said quietly. “Date to be decided. Why? He knows how important it is to know the date.”
“We can ask him tomorrow,” the first man suggested. “He’s on leave in the morning. We can plan the details then.”
A fourth man, larger and quieter than the rest, broke his pensive silence. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
The group of men looked at him.
Jothan stood up and took the note. “I think I know who he’s talking about. And if that’s the case, we need to be prepared at every moment for any contingency. This will be unlike anything we’ve ever done before.”
The men regarded their massive leader with surprise and fascination. But before any of them could ask who he was talking about, they were startled by a movement in the forest behind them. Bounding through the trees a bit too noisily were three more men in brown and green. Breathless, they nearly fell into the cluster of men.
“My wife!” one of them gasped, “my wife contacted me!”
“What’s wrong, Braxhicks?” Jothan gripped his arm.
“She was at the meeting they had at the amphitheater,” he sat on the ground, trying to slow his breathing. “Did Zenos tell you yet what happened? Or Yung?”
“Yung rarely comes up here, but Zenos will be here tomorrow—”
“They named him general!” Braxhicks burst out.
“Who, Zenos?”
“No, of course not. Shin! They announced it earlier, along with the declaration that the ruins are still poisonous, and the Creator was merely a man who led them all away from there. Here,” and he handed the startled men a few wrinkled pages. “They gave these out to everyone, explaining the . . . the whatever lies they’re trying to call it.” Braxhicks slumped against a stump to catch his breath. “Mrs. Shin tried to argue it in front of everyone, but her husband forced her off the platform. The representative of the Administrators called him ‘General.’”
None of the men around him could speak for several moments.
Finally one of them broke their stunned silence by saying, “That’s it, then, isn’t it? They’ve named him a general . . . so . . .”
“A few more things have to fall into place, though, before . . .”
“But, but how can . . .”
“We’ve been waiting for this moment for . . . for almost twenty years, so now what are supposed . . . what should we . . .”
None of the men could finish their sentences, too taken aback by the news.
But Jothan slowly nodded. “As I was about to say, men: this one will be anything but routine.”
---
It took them a long time to finally fall asleep that night, if they actually did. Perrin and Mahrree laid next to each other in bed trying to make sense of what everything might mean now. They had no idea.
“At least we have another supply of gold and silver slips in the cellar,” Mahrree said sometime after midnight. “I had been thinking we should find someone to donate it to, but now I think we’ll need to donate it to ourselves.”
“Yes—we have a bit to get us by for several seasons,” Perrin said, “until we figure out what’s next.”
“And next is . . . ?”
Perrin exhaled loudly and pulled her closer. “A very good question.”
They lay in silence, pondering.
“Remember the wall you showed me in Idumea?” Mahrree said after a while. “Around Chairman Mal’s mansion?”
“The wall that kept in all the servants?”
“We now know what’s on the other side of it, don’t we?”
“Pretty much nothing at all, is there?” Perrin stroked his wife’s hair. “When you stood up on that platform and said that the whole world was the barn, you actually gave me goose bumps. In fact, the moment you stood up in the audience, I knew everything was about to change, and drastically.”
“Sorry,” she whispered.
He kissed her head. “Don’t be. I was hoping someone would be brave enough to challenge the findings. I just really didn’t expect it would be you. Then again, Hogal did warn me about you, many years ago. Who else would it have been if not you?” He chuckled tensely for a moment, but then he grew somber. “As I sat up there watching you trying to debate Kori, I knew what I had always suspected: we’ve been kept confined just like the servants.”
Mahrree shivered in his arms. “Do you think they ever suspected the truth themselves? Did they ever think, ‘Hey, it’s been awfully quiet on the other side. I don’t think there’s any danger’?”
“I have no idea,” Perrin whispered. “But consider this: if they did, what did the Queruls do to then keep them away from the wall again? What horror did they throw over to keep them contained?”
Mahrree snuggled closer to him. “What you really mean is, what will happen next to the world because we know the truth?”
He cleared his throat gently. “Uh . . . sure.”
“Oh, no,” she whispered. “That’s not what you meant. What you really meant is, what will happen next to us, because I tried to declare the truth?”
He squeezed her tighter and kissed her again. “Remember, tonight I erased much of what could happen because I’m no longer in the army. In a way, it is like dices; we have to see what Idumea proclaims about us, then we throw the dices and see what happens.”
Mahrree considered that. “I don’t think that’s quite right,” she decided. “We did the right things, I’m sure of it. And I believe the Creator will help us, no matter what comes back to us.”
He squeezed her again. “Of course you’re right,” he said with genuine confidence. “Did you see the look Shem gave me, just before he left with Thorne?”
“I did, but I didn’t recognize it.”
“It’s a look he made up in Idumea,” Perrin explained. “Before we were to hear what my punishment would be for the stolen caravan. He told me it was something his rector told him before he signed on with me long term. Shem even twitched the message to me several times while they read my long list of offenses, just to keep me calm.”
Intrigued, and growing a bit impatient, Mahrree said, “So what did that expression mean?”
“‘You were in the Creator’s army long before you were ever in Idumea’s. And the Creator takes care of His own.’”
Mahrree closed her eyes, feeling another wave of peace pass over her as it had a few times already that night. The insistent sense of calm seemed to b
oth of them an odd sensation considering that never before had their future been so uncertain. Yet still the tranquility filled their home, and only then did Mahrree realize how chaotic their lives had been before.
“The Creator takes care of His own,” Mahrree murmured. “We’re His own, aren’t we?”
“We’ve never been anyone else’s,” Perrin shrugged.
Hours later, when Mahrree eventually drifted into unconsciousness, she dreamed of a large home with faded gray wood, window boxes, gardens, and mountains. She chuckled in her sleep.
And when Perrin finally surrendered to the exhaustion of the day, he saw in his dreams a mass of Guarders run straight for his house, but continue on to another target.
He didn’t hear that annoying knocking on his door, either. He wouldn’t, ever again.
Instead he saw a little face looking up at him, smiling.
The child had perfectly squishy cheeks.
---
Rector Yung sat patiently in his old cushioned chair. It had been dark for many hours, but he knew the back door would soon be opening—
“I didn’t think you’d still be up,” said the voice that came through the door and silently closed it behind him. “I tried to get here earlier, but there’s a remarkable amount of activity for so late at night.”
“Tell me, Jothan—how could I possibly sleep after what happened tonight?”
Neither of them lit a candle, but the large man dressed head-to-toe in black sat in the only other chair in the sparse room of the unlit rectory. “No one’s going to be sleeping for a while, I suspect.”
“Jothan, how much did you hear?”
“Mr. Braxhicks caught up to us. His wife was at the amphitheater and filled him in. She even sent a copy of the findings for us. I don’t know when I’ve ever seen a husband so proud of his wife.”
Yung chuckled quietly.
“She’s still safe as an unknown midwife, but you aren’t, Rector,” Jothan pointed out. “According to what we read, all rectors are officially out of a job. Who knows what Idumea will come up with next. We need to get you out of here tonight.”
Yung shook his head. “Can’t. There’s another wrinkle, because Idumea has already come up with that ‘next’. I had another visitor not too long ago.”
“Oh?”
“An assistant of Genev’s, the Administrator of Loyalty. You’re right—there’s no need for rectors, so I’ve been asked to hand over the rectory tomorrow morning to the Administrators. Likely because I was perhaps a bit too vocal myself.”
Jothan let out a low whistle. “What do they want with the rectory?”
“Who knows. Apparently I haven’t paid my taxes since I arrived, although my records show otherwise. I’m being evicted.”
“So why not let me take you now?”
“Think about it,” Yung said steadily. “They expect to find me in the morning. If I’m gone, questions will be asked. No, I’ll do my duty, say a few good-byes, then . . . take a walk. I’ll meet you at one of the usual places. Besides, it’s not me that will be a complicated vanishing.” His tone was the weight of boulders.
Jothan sighed just as heavily. “I know. It’s not as if they can suddenly move somewhere else, or even receive visitors—”
“Are they being watched?”
Jothan nodded in discouragement. “Both houses are guarded.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “We’re already brainstorming ideas, but until we hear back . . . what do you think your brother-in-law will recommend?”
Yung thought for a moment. “Right now everyone’s on high alert. But if the Shins suddenly become silent—boringly silent—Thorne and his soldiers will lose interest. Give it a few weeks and I predict the surveillance will drop off, and then you can get to work.”
“But I’ll likely have to work quickly,” Jothan mused out loud. “I have some serious qualms about this succeeding. My instinct is to do an old-fashioned snatch-and-run, but—”
“But this is a situation unlike any other we’ve ever encountered,” Yung reminded him.
His companion nodded dismally.
“No matter what you end up doing, there are going to be questions asked and people wondering and even wandering,” Yung warned him. “We have to be prepared for anything and everything. It’s going to be messy, no matter what.”
“Shem and I have talked about this before, and we’ve both come to that same conclusion,” Jothan agreed. “So many things can go wrong, and I have a hard time envisioning it going smoothly.”
“It doesn’t have to go smoothly,” Yung reminded him. “It just has to go.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Jothan said. “I just thought of another problem: who’s going to do it?”
“Why not Shem?”
“He’s due to leave tomorrow to visit his father.”
Yung scoffed. “He won’t do any such thing. Not right now.”
“But he does have to leave. He told me the other day that Thorne reminded him he’s got three weeks leave coming, and he expects him to take it all beginning tomorrow.”
Yung scratched his chin. “I might not have time to catch up to Shem tomorrow. Not even sure where he’ll be . . .”
The men sat in thoughtful silence for a minute.
“It just may have to be you,” Yung finally said. “Stand up,” he said, getting to his own feet. “Right in front of me . . . yes, I do believe you’re rather larger than him.”
“Meaning?”
“How hard can you hit?”
“Rector?”
“I mean, can you knock out a man roughly your size with one blow?”
“Of course. Most of us can.”
“Then how far can you carry a man, roughly your size, who happens to be unconscious?”
Jothan smiled reluctantly. “Perhaps a mile, as long as I’m not running.”
“Can you do that multiple times?”
“Probably. Why?” his smile grew, although he tried to hem it in. “What are you suggesting?”
“If worse comes to worst, you just may have to employ your old snatch-and-run techniques. And bring some friends.”
“Not a problem, Yung.”
The rector smiled, a bit sadly, as he looked around the dark room. “I’ve enjoyed my time here. The Densals were very good to me. I regret having to hand their home over to the Administrators, but—”
Jothan peered around too. “Yung, there really isn’t anything here aside from that rickety table, that thin blanket you sleep on, and a handful of chipped dishes. Besides, the Densals haven’t been here for years.”
“Oh, they’ve been by to visit many times.” Yung’s smiled brightened. “Until tomorrow, then . . . but Jothan—do one more thing for me, please.” He gestured to the ancient stuffed chair. “Take a seat, would you? Just for a moment?”
Jothan shrugged. “All right, but I really need to be leav—”
His sentence was stopped by the enormous cracking sound that deposited the massive man on the floor and surrounded him with splinters of wood, torn cloth, and old gray bits of fluff floating around him.
Yung grinned. “Well done. Now that I don’t even have a chair left, I suppose my time here is finished.”
---
Two other men sat in the dark office of an unlit building. The sun would soon be rising.
Chairman Mal clenched several papers in his hand, shaking. When he spoke, his tone could have ripped leather. “So NOW what?!”
Genev took an analytical breath. “Really quite remarkable when you think about it. He’s resigned—completely thrown away his career. Unimaginable,” he said with a faraway look in his eyes.
“Apparently he imagined it!” Mal bellowed to bring the younger man’s thoughts back to the room. “And he did it!”
Genev shifted in his chair. “It’s nothing out of our control—”
“That’s what my former colleague claimed once about a situation. And then he lost his life!”
Genev’s
jaw firmed. “Are you threatening me?”
“No!” Mal shouted, waving the papers. “Shin is! He killed Brisack in Moorland!”
The Administrator of Loyalty leaned back, trying to appear confident, but he licked his lips nervously. “What’s he going to do now, really? He has no army to command, so he’s no threat to us—”
“You said you read our previous findings, right?” Mal seethed. “Where in those studies have you ever seen that Perrin Shin and his wife are not threats to us? When have they ever acted in a predictable manner? Surprises! Always!”
Genev met Mal’s fiery gaze. “What could he possibly do?”
The Chairman shook his head in disbelief at his new assistant’s ignorance. “Tell me, how many soldiers love Colonel Shin? How many citizens saw that ridiculous play about him? The only village it wasn’t performed in was Edge, yet the reports were that Mountseen was flooded with Edge’s citizens for the four weeks it ran there. There’s only one name more well-known in the world than mine: Perrin Shin. And now he’s supporting his wife’s protests against me and the Administrators?” He threw the papers to the ground in disgust.
Genev swallowed.
“I knew Perrin back when he was a student,” Mal continued, struggling to regain composure. “You read about that. He never agreed with my theories or my tactics. Not then, not now. Do you really want to know what he could possibly do? The man you replaced promised me I would never again hear the words General Shin or King Perrin. Then he lost his life trying to make that so. You took his place and promised me General Shin would be a good idea. It now seems clear that that is not the title he wanted. Would you like to take a guess as to which title he’s going for now?”
The Administrator of Loyalty firmed his position in his chair. “I assure you, with my life, that there will be no King Perrin.”
“Do you swear it with the oath?” asked Mal severely.
Genev sat even taller and more resolute. “With the same oath all Guarders swear allegiance to you: there will be no King Perrin. Nor future King Peto. I swear it with my life.”
Mal leaned back in his chair and exhaled. “I’m satisfied with that answer. Now, what will you do to guarantee your life remains yours?”
Genev thought for a moment, an air of worry about him. “We still hold considerable power over the Shins. The young captain has thickened Mrs. Shin’s file significantly. Nearly every day she’s been teaching the impressionable and troubled youth of Edge contrary to what the Department of Instruction requires. I’ve already drafted the sedition papers, but with her outburst she’s rather convicted herself, hasn’t she?” He ventured a tentative smile.
The Chairman nodded slowly, but his countenance suggested he was waiting for much more.
Genev nodded back and coughed politely. “Then there’s the matter of the letter Captain Thorne found in the colonel’s—I mean, Mr. Shin’s—desk, addressed to Zenos. All kinds of implications in that, apparently. So many that he sent a second messenger with news about it. We can certainly find a use for that ‘death letter’ as well. That will be the final blow to Mahrree Shin should everything else somehow fail.”
“Is it still in the captain’s possession?” Mal asked.
“Yes, although I’ve told him it should be sent to us immediately. I mean, the Administrator of Loyalty told him—”
Mal cut him off with an admonishing finger point. “Don’t be sloppy!”
Genev nodded. “Sir, I believe it’s all well within our means to control,” he tried to salvage. “Perrin Shin’s ‘intentions’ must be exposed. After all, it appears he may be attempting a takeover of the Administrators,” he implied with raised eyebrows.
“Not bad,” Mal said slowly. “Not a bad spin at all. You just may survive this, Genev. But no allegations must come from either of us, nor from any of the Administrators.”
“No, of course not,” Genev said, not at all certain as to why he agreed.
The Chairman smiled faintly for the first time that early morning. “However, I know who should make the allegations.” He bent over and picked up the papers he’d thrown to the floor. “Captain Thorne’s urgent message makes some serious allegations. Given to his father, I’m sure General Thorne can read between the lines and draw his own conclusions—with a little guidance—about Perrin Shin’s future intents.”
Genev’s shoulders relaxed. “That should make General Thorne much more satisfied with the present situation. That, along with giving him the High Generalship?”
Mal sighed. “Yes, I suppose that must happen now. I’ll have to rewrite all the scenarios, toss away all the future questions. I really was looking forward to this, but now?” He shook his head and looked out the dark window. “Perrin, Perrin, you arrogant man. Do you realize how much work I’ve wasted on you this past year? What insights could have been gained? I barely have time to create new questions before . . .” He looked again at Genev. “Before what? What’s going to be tested now?”
His associate shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure yet. Have you considered just watching to see how things play out for a time?”
The Chairman pointed at him. “I leave very little up to chance! Observations should take place under carefully controlled situations. I’m not about to throw away my life’s work just because one of my test subjects continues to rebel! No . . . no . . . he’s still coming back to Idumea.”
Genev smiled thinly again. “It sounds as if you are already planning to execute something. Tell me, how do you recommend we do this, sir?”
“Not us,” Mal smiled. “This will follow under the jurisdiction of the Administrators. As you mentioned, we have a very thick file waiting to be addressed. We’ll soon have an intriguing letter written by Perrin Shin’s hand that promises additional treachery . . .” He looked off at the dark windows slowly lightening with the coming dawn. A flurry of ideas passed over his face. Scenarios, possibilities, fingers of blame, outcomes not even considered before . . .
“This may take a little bit of time to massage,” he finally continued, interlacing his fingers together.
Genev waited patiently.
“But it’ll be worth it. Perhaps our focus should be on the Administrators for a time. Group pressure is also a fascinating process to watch. Given enough arguments, time, and stress even the most resolute and determined man can be made fearful enough to completely reverse his ideals to conform with everyone else. No, I believe you just may be correct. There is still much under our influence. We are still ultimately in control, aren’t we?” With renewed optimism, he bellowed. “Get me General Thorne!”
---
As the sun rose that morning, a bleary-eyed Captain Thorne stood in the doorway of Zenos’s quarters to watch him pack. Thorne hadn’t slept at all that night, too engrossed with what he found in Colonel Shin’s desk drawer, too caught up with sending messengers to Idumea, and too busy reorganizing the fort.
But he took time to make sure one complication would be eliminated for the next few weeks while everything at the Fort at Edge improved.
“Not taking a uniform?” Thorne said.
“Don’t need it where I’m going,” Zenos intoned. He shoved his work clothes into his pack and buttoned it. “I’m ready for my goodbye kiss now.” He hefted his bag on to his shoulder and smiled frostily at Thorne.
Thorne glowered. “Three weeks you have off, soldier. Remember, I expect you to enjoy yourself. Give my regards to your father. Perhaps he’d like to see more of you? Consider a transfer to Flax while you’re there. I’ve already sent a message to the fort to look for you.”
“If they can find me, they can talk to me. Good luck, Captain. You’re going to need it.”
Shem pushed past Thorne and on to the stables. He strode across the compound, several soldiers looking at him in surprise that he wore his worst work shirt and trousers. But Shem didn’t notice as he went directly to his horse, which Thorne had already ordered to be saddled. Nearby, Clark snuffed and regarded him wi
th questioning eyes. Shem would have to find a way to get him to the Briters’ barn. Clark didn’t belong to the fort, but convincing the fort of that when he returned might prove difficult.
Shem mounted and glanced back to see Thorne standing in the compound with his arms folded, waiting. Without a word, Shem kicked the horse and headed out the gates as the sun began to rise.
He slowed the horse to a trot as he approached the Briters’ farm, and spotted the soldier hiding in the bushes leading up to their drive. He shook his head in frustration.
“Don’t have the baby early, please,” he whispered to the quiet house as he passed. “Take care. I’ll be back. I promise.”
He continued down the road and turned to the alley that led to the Shins. Another soldier sat in the tree behind their house. Shem groaned quietly as he clucked his horse to walk slowly past so as to not arouse the suspicion of the guard. He looked askance as he passed the house hoping to see some movement inside, but it was quiet as well.
“Probably didn’t sleep well last night,” he murmured. “I certainly didn’t. But if I can’t find out what’s happening in the fort for you, I can find out something somewhere else. Just lie low. I’ll be back,” he whispered and hoped the message would somehow reach them.
At the end of the alley he turned his horse back on to the road and kicked it into a gallop.
He had a long way to go. For the first time in his life, Shem Zenos was headed south for his leave.
Chapter 33 ~ “The quieter you both are, the faster all of this will just . . . go away.”