In the morning Captain Shin stared out again at the forest, his stack of notes in one hand, his sharpened charcoal in another, and his mind back at the platform staring at the memory of a school teacher with blazing eyes and a blistering demeanor. He shook his head to dislodge the distraction and glared at the forest.
It was no use. He should check on the builders' progress at the barracks, anyway. With a sigh of self-deprecation, he turned and headed back to the fort.
Just inside the forest, about thirty paces deep and sitting high up in a tree, two men dressed in mottled green and brown clothing waved good-bye to the captain. Then they nodded at each other.
---
Chairman Mal sat at his desk going over files that morning from the Administrator of Loyalty-another list of citizens the sniveling man suspected of potential sedition, or at least weak senses-when the door swung open and a commotion of men poured into his office.
"Sir, I'm sorry, but he just won't-"
Mal held up his hand to calm the group, eight men in short red jackets subduing a scruffy creature. Mal's eyes fell upon the young man in his twenties, his hair filthy and mussed, his face smeared with muck, and his clothing disheveled-an unappreciated mutt left out in a storm. In his hand was a butchering knife.
Mal had no doubt he would have been lunging toward the Chairman if it weren't for the guards who'd finally caught up to him. Two were on each of his arms, holding him back, while another guard panted his apologies.
"Sir, he was so quick. Before we knew it he was through the outer doors-"
Mal nodded coolly. "To get through the outer doors is a serious breach, but you and your men made up for your previous error. He's not going anywhere now, is he?" He stared into the blue eyes of his would-be assassin.
The young man stared back, full of fury.
"Relieve him of his weapon," Mal commanded, and a guard wrenched the knife from his fist. "Now, all of you may leave, for I'd like to have a few words with our guest in private."
"But, but . . . sir, he, he-" the head of the guard stammered.
"Is now unarmed, and knows full well that all of you will be standing outside the doors, your long knives and swords readied. Isn't that correct?"
The young man grunted in response.
Mal waved for the guard to leave, and reluctantly they filed out.
Only once the door shut behind them did Mal speak again, quietly. "Been wondering when I might see you, Sonoforen. Figured your gold may have run out by now, and with your mother dying last season, it was just a matter of time. Interesting attempt to disguise yourself, but I must point out, it was unnecessary. You don't look anything like your father and no one would think a moment about you. Disappointing. I had hoped you would have a little more forethought than Oren. Poor attempt at an execution."
"Well, you would know all about executions, wouldn't you, Chairman?" the young man seethed.
"Ah," Mal said easily. "So that's what you believe, is it? What are you calling yourself these days, anyway?"
"Batalk," he answered shortly. "My mother's maiden name."
"That's still too obvious, Sonoforen Batalk," Mal sneered. "And that was always your mother's name. Oren never married her."
"He planned to!"
Mal shook his head slowly. "Doesn't matter what he planned to do. You're not a legal heir to his throne, even though you're the oldest son. Neither you nor your younger brother. Where's Dormin, anyway? Covered in vines and waiting at the grand entrance pretending he's a tree?"
"Don't know, don't care." Sonoforen clenched his fists.
Mal smiled halfway. "Ah, the bonds of brotherhood. Did he bind you first, or did you bind him?"
"I'm here to take back my throne!"
"You may have it," Mal nodded casually. "Perhaps you noticed as you passed it on the way in, near the grand entrance? A reminder of the neglect and abuses of your ancestors. Get a few friends and haul it out of here."
Sonoforen slammed his hands down on the desk and bellowed, "I want to be king!"
Mal nonchalantly straightened up a few piles that were disturbed by the outburst. "I'm sure you do," he said in a jaded tone. "Someone like you believes the world owes him something, although he's done nothing to deserve it. Typical. So you thought killing me would let you become king? That this world which has embraced our government, rejoiced in our reforms, and sends us letters of gratitude each week would simply accept your killing me and restore you to a throne you have no right to? Hmm?" Mal shook his head slowly. "Astounding how you don't realize that it's that very lack of intelligence that destroyed your family's claim to rule this world to begin with."
Sonoforen breathed heavily, furiously, then, as the reality of what Mal said sank in, slower until even his shoulders sagged in defeat.
Mal sat back and evaluated him. Sonoforen had a modicum of intelligence. Not as much as his younger brother, but enough to make him a trainable mutt. "I understand your anger, boy, but I assure you-you're fury is not with me."
"You ordered the execution squad!"
"Is that what they told you? Oh, Sonoforen." He sighed. "You and I both cling to a shaky existence. Our futures are only as secure as we plot them to be. Sit down, son." He gestured to a chair near his desk.
Sonoforen considered the unexpected bone offered him. He sat down warily, never taking his eyes off the Chairman.
"Your father was betrayed not by me, his most trusted advisor," Mal whispered, "but by someone else close to him: the High General. Sonoforen, very few men know this, but Shin was planning a violent overthrow of your father. Fortunately I heard of it. I stopped him before he not only had your father killed, but the entire mansion staff along with you, your brother, and your mother. Shin was furious after that incident at the silk shops, and was ready to begin another war over it. I spent hours reasoning with him. One of my most trusted friends, Dr. Brisack, also helped me to talk sense into the man. I argued to dispose quietly of your father in some remote village somewhere, but Shin wouldn't hear of it. He wanted him-and all of you-dead. In the end, he agreed that your father's death would suffice, and that he trusted only someone such as me to now lead the world. Shin gave me the list of who should be Administrators and what kinds of laws we could enact. It was the only way to prevent war, Sonoforen. Your father died nobly, son, to save the world. I'm here only to try to keep Shin from total control. Your argument is not with me, but with Relf Shin."
Sonoforen remained motionless. "They told me that'd be your story."
Mal smiled kindly to show the dog who really cared for him. "And who is 'they'?"
"My father's servants. Ones I found not long ago."
"Think about this, son. I'm an old man, a university professor of animal behavior, and never held a blade in my life. Shin is more fearsome in his fifties than he ever was in his twenties, and is in command of more than ten thousand soldiers. Who, then, is the greater threat?"
Sonoforen sighed.
"It's a difficult balance I keep with the High General, Sonoforen. Right now I have just slightly more power than he does. Without my Administrators, the army would be ruling this world, and that is not a world either of us would want to live in."
Sonoforen squirmed. "Then he needs to die," he whispered.
Mal nodded once. "But that would be very difficult to do. Especially with the way you do things. What animal is waiting outside to swift you away from the scene of your crime? A goat?"
Sonoforen just stared at the desk.
"A sheep, then," Mal said sadly. "Sonoforen, Shin is a strong, cunning man. You'd never succeed. Not without help."
"I'd do anything," Sonoforen said, lifting his eyes to meet Mal's. "Work with anyone, do anything, to get my revenge."
"Are you serious about that?"
"He killed my father!" Sonoforen barked. "Denied me my throne!"
Mal's mouth pursed. "What kind of a relationship do you still have with Dormin?"
"None," Sonoforen murmured.
"Any other connections w
ith family? Friends? Girls? Acquaintances?"
"Chairman Mal, if you're trying to figure out who I have waiting outside to help me the answer is . . . no one," Sonoforen muttered in embarrassment. "Not even an animal. My cat ran away last week."
"So you were just charging in here and hoping to . . . wing it?"
"You're point is well made, sir."
Mal clasped his hands together and rested them on the desk. A desperate, homeless mutt. Perfect.
"Sonoforen, how would you like to get your revenge? Not through a rash, ill-thought out plan, but in a rational, organized, and effective manner which will yield results that will not only appease your desires but will also lend me a great deal of research?"
Sonoforen blinked. "What in the world are you talking about?"
"First, we change your name to something less obvious. How does Heth strike you?"The corner of Mal's mouth went up slightly. "Then tell me what you know about Guarders."
---
Mahrree sighed for the twelfth time. Usually it was the six-year-olds in her morning class that couldn't concentrate for more than five minutes, not the eight teenage girls in the afternoons.
"If you really want to know that much about the captain, you should have come to the debate," she chided as Hitty asked yet another question about how many medals he had on his uniform. Mahrree hadn't noticed. "Now, we need to get back to our discussion-"
Hitty raised her hand again.
Mahrree groaned.
"Really, Miss Mahrree, this has to do with the discussion."
"Do you remember what the discussion was about?"
Hitty nodded. "The history of the Guarders."
"Good. Now remember, many of your parents contacted me this morning to make sure we went over it, considering that the fort will soon be ready. They'll be quizzing you tonight, so understanding the nature of the Guarders is not only vital to your welfare, but also to your passing this class. Be grateful, because we were to be discussing developments in sugar production in the south. So Hitty, I will happily answer any questions regarding Guarders."
Hitty put her hand down and tossed her straw-colored hair behind her, as she did every five minutes. "If the Guarders return, and they invade the village, with what hand will the captain fight them? My mother said he wore a very large sword."
The girls erupted into fits of sniggers as Mahrree practiced her best glare.
Hitty kept her face impressively still, but finally broke into a smile of embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Miss Mahrree," she whispered.
"His right." Mahrree sighed for the thirteenth time. "He wore his sword on his left side, so that he can draw it with his right hand."
"If his sword is large, then that means he's very strong, right?" Sareen asked in her usual giggle which made her brown curls bobble.
"Could you tell how strong he was, Miss Mahrree?" asked another dreamy-eyed girl. "You were closest to him. My mother said he was very tall and had a chest like an ox."
"Ooh, I hope she meant a bull," said another girl, to a variety of tittering.
Mahrree wondered why so many mothers-married women-had paid such close attention to him. "Believe it or not, I wasn't concerned with how strong he might be," she said sternly. "I was more concerned about his views on education and progress, which we'll be discussing next week. After we finish learning about the Guarders!"
Teeria nodded. "Because without the Guarders, there would be no new fort, and no Captain Shin." The rest of the class nodded eagerly back.
Mahrree could always count on Teeria. The girl was as straight and serious as her dark brown hair and somber expression. "You're right. Because of the Guarders, Captain Shin and a few more soldiers-"
Several of the girls sighed in anticipatory delight.
Ignoring that, Mahrree plowed on, "-will be living here. Edge, as you recall, was one of the four villages where Guarders were seen retreating into the forests one hundred nineteen years ago, in 200."
"Before or after the Great War?" asked Sareen.
"After. Right after. Remember, King Querul the First and Guide Pax were trying to find a way to bring an end to the fighting. All seventeen villages and the city of Idumea were entangled in the war that lasted five years. No one is sure of the population, but we were well over one million people, and the land was struggling to sustain that many people. Couple that with farms lying fallow because of the fighting, and herds being slaughtered for meat, meant people were dying. According to some estimates, we may have lost up to 200,000 people during those years."
The girls dutifully took notes on their slate boards as Mahrree spoke.
"Famine that King Querul vowed would never happen under his 'supreme guidance'," Teeria grumbled in disgust.
"Exactly. When he took power at the beginning of the war, he said he would unite the world and bring peace. But he tried to force that peace."
"That was the problem with all the kings, right?" Teeria asked.
These were the times Mahrree loved teaching. "Right again. The kings imposed changes upon us, without our consent. A leader may believe he's successful in forcing his will, but he rarely sees how his subjects are quietly plotting against him until it's too late."
"Like the Administrators," Teeria said. "Plotting to depose King Oren and surprising him. And the Administrators have promised to be here for the people to listen to what they want."
Mahrree recognized that phrase: "Be here for the people."
That's what Chairman Mal had posted on the notice boards two years ago, had shouted by his representatives in red jackets as they came to the amphitheater, and had repeatedly emphasized as he took over the government of the world. She'd always believed he was sincere. But since last night, that little bit of guilty cynicism had been tainting every thought of the Administrators. Where her doubt came from, or why it persisted, Mahrree didn't know.
"Yes," Mahrree said, hoping the girls didn't hear her hesitation.
Hitty wrinkled her nose. "But I thought it was the king that made the Guarders angry in the first place. Since the kings are gone, why are the Guarders coming back again?"
"No one's sure," Mahrree shrugged. "Maybe they don't know the kings are gone, or they don't care. In 200 Guide Pax came up with a plan. He and King Querul had realized those prolonging the war were only a small minority of the world. Pax suggested that they try to find a new land for those people to live. Divide the world to have peace."
"But we can't do that," another girl pointed out. "There's nowhere else people can live that's not poisoned."
Mahrree scratched her head. "Yes, that's what we've been told for over three hundred years. This plain where our seventeen villages and Idumea exist are the only habitable stretches of land anywhere."
Teeria squinted. "As usual, Miss Mahrree, you don't sound completely sure of that."
Mahrree shrugged again. "You know me and Terryp."
She loved nothing more than tales of Terryp the historian who served the first king and went on an expedition with Querul's soldiers looking for new lands near the end of the Great War. In the west he discovered vastregions of farmable land and enormous ruins of a massive civilization. But he came back from the expedition so crazed that the king vowed never to allow anyone else to suffer as much as Terryp did in the "poisoned" lands. Then all of Terryp's findings and writings were accidentally destroyed in a fire over one hundred years ago. Mahrree was always suspicious of just how honest King Querul was about the lands Terryp discovered.
Mahrree's students knew their teacher didn't have much faith in anything the kings had claimed, but they didn't know all the reasons why. She'd been told by her father years ago that King Querul the First took in several servants during the Great War and kept them secure in his compound.
By the time Querul the Fourth took over the mansion, the servants, who still believed the war continued for all those years, and that the only place of refuge was in the king's service, had multiplied to nearly three dozen. After eighty year
s those servants were finally released, and they were shocked to discover the world was something completely different than they had been led to believe.
Cephas Peto had a friend who helped those people, secretly relocated to the eastern village of Winds, learn to read and write and adapt to life in the real world. And Cephas had told the story to his daughter, years later, in confidence.
In rare, bleak moments Mahrree wondered if the world wasn't itself imprisoned in a compound and fed lies to keep them there. But such thoughts were so dispiriting it did no good to ponder them.
Besides, the Administrators were different, she loyally tried to remind herself. Maybe they might send another expedition to the west . . .
"Back to Guarders," Mahrree reluctantly continued her lecture. "Guide Pax traveled north from Idumea until he reached Moorland, about ten miles west of here. He bravely entered the treacherous forest hoping to find a way through it and up into the mountains. Maybe he could find a valley or another plain where the people who loved violence could live. He left with a dozen of the king's soldiers-his elite guards-and was never heard from again," she recounted sadly.
"The Creator's last guide, the last man worthy to add to The Writings and receive guidance from the Creator for us, was gone. Several of the guards with him were found later with blood on their hands and uniforms. That's when the awful reality was known-Querul's guards had betrayed the man they were to be guarding. Instead of helping Pax find a peaceful solution, they butchered him. We've called the tallest mountain where that occurred 'Mt. Deceit' ever since. The guards were captured by Querul and executed for their treachery, but that didn't convince their associates to stop their rebellion. Over 2,000 people during the next few weeks made mad dashes to the forests north of us, to escape Querul's fury. It would have been one thing to let the men-Guarders, as someone decided to call them-leave and finally end the battles, but no. Husbands and fathers forced their wives and children into the forests as well. The families had to abandon their homes, farms and shops, and flee to the wild north. Some of those men were even assistants to the guide. That's likely how he was betrayed-by his deceitful friends. They entered the forests near the villages of Sands, Scrub, Moorland, and even Edge."
"And all of them were part of the secret groups," Teeria said as she wrote on her slate.
"That's right. And the name 'Guarders' took on a somewhat ironic meaning. Now the only thing they guard is whatever they steal from us. King Querul-indeed, no one-understood that there was a secret society living among us. This society had their own connections and even methods of communication. Every village was affected with these spies and traitors, these people who Guide Pax was hoping to find a new home for and were to be divided away from the rest of the world. It seems they initially didn't want to go. They enjoyed continuing the war.
"But when Guide Pax was lost, King Querul was enraged," she told them as she slowly paced the classroom. "He demanded all of the traitors in each village be discovered and brought to Idumea for trial. That's when houses turned up empty, shops were abandoned, and farms were left alone. In the middle of the night for weeks on end, people darted in and out of trees in a race for the north, thieving as they went and damaging property wherever they could. There was even one family captured by law enforcers just outside of Edge. They had traveled all the way from Flax at the other end of the world, on the coast of the southern sea, just to escape."
The girls' mouths dropped open.
"That's an incredible distance!" Sareen said with a sad giggle. "Don't people die traveling that far?"
Mahrree shrugged. "One hundred thirty miles is a long way to go, but apparently not life-threatening."
"What happened to the family?" Hitty asked warily.
"The travel didn't kill them, but their treachery did," Mahrree said softly. "They were brought to Idumea, tried, found guilty, and executed."
The girls looked at each other, aghast.
"Children, too?" asked Teeria.
Mahrree pressed her lips together. She skimmed over these details when she taught the history to her younger group, but the teenage girls were ready to know the terrible truths. While Querul the First wasn't the greatest leader the world could have desired, his intention was to bring peace to the land. "King Querul felt the children were under the poisonous influence of their parents, so naturally they would grow up to be traitors too."
"Was that really necessary?" Teeria's voice was almost a whisper.
"Excellent question," Mahrree told her. "What do you think?"
Teeria glanced around the room at the other girls, likely hoping to see an answer on one of their faces.
Hitty tried. "If children are taught one thing by their parents, then . . . they usually stay with what they were taught. So . . . those children might have continued their parents' rebellion when they got older. I mean, if your parents are dead, wouldn't you be mad about who killed them?"
Mahrree was tempted to nod, but instead looked around for another opinion.
Teeria fingered her dark braid, thinking.
Another girl piped up. "But you could retrain those children, couldn't you? Teach them that their parents' stealing and fighting with the army was wrong. Then they'd change their ways."
Teeria turned to her, "Yes, but who would do that retraining to-"
Mahrree began to smile. That was the point she loved in teaching, when the girls turned from facing her and expecting to get the answers from the "authority," to probing the difficult questions among themselves. It was when they debated each other that the lessons were remembered.
This was why the what-color-is-the-sky debate was so crucial: people tend to trust whoever sets themselves up as the authorities, but at some point each person needs to look at what's claimed and test it. Is the sunset really pink, or is it more of an orange? What do you see?
Now none of the girls were facing Mahrree who was leaning, satisfied, against the large slate board at the front of the room. They were instead arguing as to whether children could be forced to think differently than how they'd been taught. If she had been alone, Mahrree would have whooped for joy. She would, later, in celebration of another successful day.
But right now she had a growing shouting match she had to gently calm. She learned years ago how to do so: with another question.
"Teeria," she said in a quiet but firm voice that cut through the arguing of the girls.
Eight heads turned to look at her, as if surprised she was still there.
"Teeria, if a group of Guarders were to steal you away from your home today and try to tell you that everything your parents, government, and even your teachers have been telling you is a lie, what would it take for you to believe them?"
Mahrree looked at all of the girls silenced by her query. "Any of you? What would they have to do to convince you that the truths are actually distortions?"
After a thoughtful moment, Teeria sighed loudly. "I really don't know, Miss Mahrree. Depending on how convincing they were, I might not be able to figure out what the truth is about anything. I might end up not believing anyone anymore."
Several of the girls nodded in agreement.
"So that would be worse?" Hitty wondered. "People who can't figure out what to believe?"
"Maybe the real question, Hitty," Mahrree said, "is what would it take to make you change your mind about everything you're sure to know to be true? That's the question for all of you, isn't it? Who do you trust?"
The girls thoughtfully stared at their desks.
"Parents? Friends?" Teeria suggested. "Neighbors? Teachers? Certainly the government could-"
Mahrree couldn't listen anymore, because her ears were stuck on the words "the government." Cynical thoughts once again flooded her mind. Did the Chairman and Administrators deserve her trust? They acted as if they already had it. As if they could just take it, not earn it. And no one was questioning that, were they? They collect our trust as easily as they collect our slips of silver twice a y
ear. We wanted them to succeed so we trust them blindly. Foolishly. And they're using that. If people stop arguing, stop thinking, and are just willing to take-to trust-whatever the authority dishes out, they'll accept just about anything-
"Miss Mahrree?"
She looked around and, judging by the concerned looks on her students' faces, realized that she had been lost in her own thoughts for probably a bit too long. A common occurrence for her. "I'm sorry, what?"
"Teeria just asked you," Hitty said with a smirk, "Isn't that the job of the government-to tell us what is the truth?"
This was her test, as a teacher. Yes, there were many influences in the lives of these girls, but none so powerful as the one standing in front of them in that classroom. Even an Administrator wouldn't have a greater effect on the girls than Mahrree would have right now. They looked at her for her opinion and most importantly, her approval.
And she had to treat such moments so carefully. It would be arrogant to believe that every day the girls hung on her every word, but at moments like this, when the debate had steered itself into a question that could someday affect the future of each student, Mahrree knew that in a very real way, she controlled the world.
At least, she controlled the way her students would see it.
She knew the answer the Administrators would want her to give. Of course the government exists to give you the truth! And the sky is blue. Always! Trust us!
She also knew the answer the Creator would want her to give, and it was His approval she was more concerned about.
Mahrree slowly smiled before she began to recite, "'Test all things, as we are tested. Try all things, to discover the truths for yourself.'"
She could feel the tension in the room drain away as she continued to recite the words of The Writings. "'The truth of all things will manifest itself to those who sincerely want to know.'"
Her students smiled and visibly relaxed.
"Miss Mahrree," Hitty began soberly, tossing her braid with much less energy, "I was just wondering-have the Administrators executed anyone?"
A new wave of anxiousness filled the room.
"In the past two years, not that I've heard of, Hitty," Mahrree said with a reassuring smile. "Let's pray it always stays that way."
"The captain would never execute anyone," Sareen giggled nervously. "Would he, Miss Mahrree? I heard he claimed he was never part of a killing squad."
"But he would kill a Guarder, right?" Teeria said gravely.
Mahrree shrugged again. "You'd have to ask him. But I don't know why else he's here."
The girls covered their mouths and snickered at the idea of speaking to the captain. Mahrree groaned at their sudden return to silliness.
"Why don't you ask him, Miss Mahrree?" another girl suggested. "At the next debate!"
A lump appeared in her throat. She hadn't mentioned anything about another debate, but apparently they already knew.
"If it comes up, I'll try to remember to ask. Back to the Guarders." She cleared her throat, grateful for the diversion from the captain. "For years the villages on the outer rim of the world dealt with raids for goods, livestock, and occasionally people. Sands and Grasses in the west, and Trades in the southwest seemed to take the brunt of the attacks. Only occasionally would Guarders venture into Moorland or Edge. Our villages are much smaller and aren't as wealthy. The Army of Idumea fought those raids and killed many of the Guarders, but never eradicated all of them. The Guarders always raided at night, wore black clothing, and smeared soot or oil on their faces to keep themselves concealed. The last time any Guarders raided here was maybe thirty years ago, although there have been rumors that someone was seen lurking in the forest. It seemed that every time a new king came to power, the Guarders came to test his power. Once pushed back, the Guarders retreated back to the forests. That's why the forests are off-limits. Only fools would dare venture into them. If the poisonous gases, bottomless crevices, and hot water don't kill the stupidly curious, Guarders will."
"So why are the Guarders coming back now, Miss Mahrree?" Hitty asked again.
Mahrree sighed. "I can only guess they're testing the strength of the world. Remember, the Guarders now are descendants of the original 2,000 that left. All they know is that a king forced their ancestors away. I assume they came to take revenge each time one of the king's sons or descendants took the throne. How they know anything about us, I couldn't begin to guess."
One quiet girl with doe-like eyes, and a nervous demeanor to accompany it, timidly raised her hand. "Miss Mahrree?" she squeaked, "I think they're already back. My good stockings went missing from the line three days ago."
This was what Mahrree was hoping to avoid, the "Guarder snatched!" rumors. Oh, they flew on and off for years, whenever anything was pinched or lost-Guarders stole it! Yes, Guarders were now desperate for stockings. Children seemed to rely on that excuse, especially when a goat wandered away or the winds from the canyons were particularly strong and blew around items that were supposed to be secured into houses, sheds, or cellars.
Just as the winds were three days ago.
But adults were just as gullible. And manipulative. Anything questionable was attributed to Guarders. They were convenient to explain why a philandering husband came home late at night: "Thought I saw a Guarder! Had to investigate! I tracked him until he rushed off into the forest . . ."
Or why livestock vanished during the night, then mysteriously showed up later in someone else's barn. "Why, the Guarder must have had second thoughts about that cow, tried to return it, and mistakenly brought it to my place instead. Really, I can't imagine any other reason why she's here. Why of course you can have her back . . ."
Adults even thought leaving a candle lit in the window might frighten away potential thieves. If it looked as if someone was still awake, the Guarders wouldn't think of raiding the house, now would they? Mahrree thought it was all just a waste of tallow, especially since accidental late night fires caused more damage than the Guarders ever did.
But stories were powerful, and the less credible they were, the stronger they seemed to grow. People were more intrigued by gossip than truth. The rumors gave the Guarders more influence than they likely realized. If they knew the control they already possessed-even with being absent from Edge for decades-they probably wouldn't have stayed away so long. As far as Edgers were concerned, they were already here and causing havoc.
But Mahrree still hoped she might be able to keep the next generation from believing such ridiculous tales. Right now each girl was rapidly turning pale in fear that Guarders suddenly developed a desire for teenage girls' underthings.
"Gia, just how windy was it the night your stockings disappeared?"
The poor girl gulped. "Very?"
"And have you checked your neighbors' yard for your stockings?"
"No?"
"You might want to."
"But my older sister's uh . . . unmentionables are also missing!"
Mahrree sighed. "Is she still courting that boy next door to you? What was his name?" Mahrree rarely knew who the teenage boys were, since they were taught in another school, but occasionally their names were lovingly scrawled on the margins of her students' work.
Gia squirmed as a couple of girls tittered. "Um, yes?"
"Please don't answer everything with a question. Now, Gia-I may not know a lot about young men, but I do suspect that unmentionables flying in the breeze next door just might be a temptation for a hot-blooded boyfriend. And personally, I think he's a much bigger worry to your family than Guarders."
Gia turned purple as the other girls giggled.
One rumor put down.
At least temporarily.
"But where could the Guarders live?" Teeria pored over her notes on the slate, baffled. "How many are there?"
"If we knew, we could end all of this once and for all. When I was a girl we thought the Guarders retreated to the mountains and lived up in the higher valleys. But it seems they may ha
ve never left the forests."
Several of the girls shuddered.
"How many soldiers are coming to Edge?" Sareen giggled worriedly.
"You'll have to ask the captain that, Sareen."
"Hope it's a lot," she muttered with unexpected heaviness. All of the girls nodded in sober agreement.
"And I hope they're as handsome as the captain," murmured another girl.
Mahrree closed her eyes as the girls tittered again.
Teeria raised her hand. "Miss Mahrree? Just one more question." She looked over her slate examining her tight writing that extended to every corner. "Now, where was it . . ."
Mahrree smiled. Today had been a success, full of questions and many not easily answered.
"-because you know my mother . . . always ready to question me on everything . . . now I thought it was right about here . . ."
Ideally the girls would take those hard questions home and discuss them during dinner with their parents. That, Mahrree thought in satisfaction, would be the perfect way to end this day. Just one more hard question to mull over together-
"Ah, here it is." Teeria looked up studiously. "What my mother really wanted me to ask: exactly what color were the captain's eyes? Black or dark brown? She was sitting too far away to see."
---
That afternoon as Mahrree visited the market she fretted. But not about serious issues such as Guarders, or possible changes in education, or why she was suddenly distrustful of the Administrators. Oh no, she was far too silly to think about important things.
Everything had been going just fine until Teeria asked the question about the captain's eyes. Then Mahrree felt the same flustering heat as she had last night on the platform, and spluttered for a few seconds before blurting out, "Brown. Very deep, dark chestnut brown."
She didn't need eight teenage girls squealing and bursting into laughter to know she'd turned red. She hoped that her students were the only ones to notice that the captain rendered her somewhat senseless. Well, the Densals knew it, too. And so did her mother. But maybe that was all.
As she worked her way through the market, she realized it was maybe a few more people than that. More villagers than usual waved at her, and several mentioned they'd be closing up their shops early on the night of her next debate. She was sure she blushed redder every time someone mentioned it. Fortunately Rector Densal would be bringing her the topic soon so she could prepare.
The first thing she'd prepare was keeping her face from turning red.
---
Tuma Hifadhi ambled out of the small back office and into the room where twelve men sat waiting for him around a large, simple table. He smiled at them, his white teeth gleaming against the backdrop of his gray skin and hair. Years ago he was taller and darker, but age had stooped and faded him.
Yet it hadn't dimmed him; his bright grin lit up and wrinkled his entire face.
"So sorry to keep you waiting," he said to the men who were starting to rise from their chairs. He motioned for them to sit back down. "But I just received a most intriguing message. As you know, Edge has a new fort, and now a new captain to go along with it. And he spends his days just staring into the trees. My friends-" he waited for their eager exclaims to die down, "-I believe it's finally time."
"Do we start training now?" asked one middle-aged man.
Tuma shook his head. "Not yet. There's more he has to do before we can be sure. For now, we just watch. As always."
Chapter 6 ~ "Miss Peto, it's obvious you have very little experience with men."