Soldier at the Door (10 page)

He felt guilty about going to the fort where he knew the bus
yness of the day would help him forget the misery at home. But once he came home he was greeted by two little children who filled him with joy while their mother could not.

Although he always liked children, he was surprised by how much he loved his. He never knew how entertaining one-year-olds could be. Watching his little girl with big dark eyes explore the
house, empty the bookshelves, and try on his cap was the best time of his day. When she giggled as she tried to put both her legs into one of his boots, he surprised himself by whispering, “Absolutely adorable!”

He held his little boy and watched with delight as his son a
ttempted his first grins to match his father’s. More than once he muttered, “That’s so cute!”

Then Perrin would glance over to his wife who seemed to see right past her children, or noticed only half of how amazing they were. He prayed that when she came out of it she wouldn’t know what she had missed.

After two weeks he finally identified the pang in his heart: he missed her.

He missed their conversations, their fights, and their
arguing
afterwards.

He needed her stubbornness, her refusal to see things his way, and her ability to make absolutely perfect sense of things he failed to recognize before.

But as she stared off into nothingness, it didn’t seem that she missed him.

But still he waited.

-
--

One night, about three and a half weeks after The Drink, Mahrree dreamed again.

Beautiful land. Lush garden. Mountains. More than a dozen children. Gray wooden house. Window boxes filled with herbs.

She woke and sat up in her bed in the dark, alone. Perrin spent his nights in the gathering room on the sofa now, Jaytsy hadn’t come up the stairs, and Peto was still down in his cradle.

She was completely alone.

The only thing to do was cry. But before Mahrree could, she felt her father unexpectedly close and startlingly clear.

Mahrree, it’s not too late. You see too small a view, imagine too small a life. You’re so limited now. But the limits will expand until they disappear.

“Oh, Father,” she whispered miserably to the dark. “You just don’t understand.”

The words came gently, fervently.

My beloved daughter, it’s
you
who does not understand. The Creator knows your emptiness, and He’ll fill it to overflowing. But in His time. He has ways you can’t understand, but you will.

The warmth that appeared in her heart when she remembered her father expanded beyond the confines of her chest. She felt her body fill completely with heat and energy that reached even the darkest regions of her soul, flooding it with light. And the light brought something with it.

Joy. Pure joy.

She was so surprised by it she actually laughed in spite of her tears. Pain and sorrow leaked mercifully away, replaced with su
blime anticipation.

“You promise, right Father?” she said out loud.

He was there—she knew it. She couldn’t see him or hear him. But she could
feel
him, and that was stronger than any other sense. He surrounded her.

Of course I promise. You have a glorious future with this sweet family. You don’t need to sorrow anymore. Never doubt your hu
sband. Remain faithful and don’t fear. You are surrounded by help, always.

-
--

The next morning Perrin awoke to the unmistakable sounds of someone making breakfast. He checked his attire to make sure he was covered enough to greet whatever gray-haired woman had snuck past his sleeping form and was in their kitchen so early. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and tried to shake himself awake as he walked quietly to the kitchen door, then gently pushed it open.

“You!” he said, a little too loudly.

Mahrree jumped and dropped an egg. She turned to him, smiled, and said, “Were you expecting someone else?”

“Actually, yes,” he smiled tentatively and walked over to her.

The light was back in her eyes. Not only light, but hope. He stopped in front of her.

“Someone a bit older, with more wrinkles,” he said as he gi
ngerly touched her face. When she didn’t shrink back he stepped closer and took her face in his hands. “Someone with white hair and a marvelous gift with yeast and eggs. But,” he sighed dramatically, “I suppose I’ll have to settle for you.”

She grinned at him.

He glanced down at the floor to avoid stepping in the egg mess and then kissed her gently.

She kissed him back. “Hmm. And how many of these women did you greet this way each morning?” she teased.

He cocked his head towards the door. “Just take a look outside and see the line of gray-hairs waiting for their turns!” His face softened and his eyes became damp. “Oh, it’s good to see you back!”

He squeezed her so hard he was worried for a moment he might break her. But she was solid. He saw that in her eyes.

“They said you’d come back,” he whispered in her ear as he lifted her, “but that it takes time. I don’t know what changed, but I did pray for you.” He put her down and beamed at her.

“My father,” she whispered.

Perrin looked at her, confused.

“He said all would be fine,” she explained—sort of, “and that I didn’t have to be sad anymore.”

“I wished I could have met Cephas,” Perrin said reverently. “He’s the one you heard argue that the blue sky is an illusion, isn’t he? The one who surmised the true color of the sky is black?”

Mahrree nodded. “He always saw further and deeper than I ever could.”

“Further and deeper than
anyone
,” Perrin whispered. “I wished I had his strength. He could reach you when no one else could.”

“You would’ve liked him,” she said, running her hand through his black hair. “After all, he’s always liked you.”

Chapter 4 ~
 
“Send in our man.

Officially.”

T
hat Weeding Season flew by as fast as bees. But oddly, the days crawled as slowly as slugs.

“That’s the definition of parenthood,” an old man called to them as he watched, amused, near the pond at the village green one eve
ning. “Everything seems opposite of what it should be.”

Perrin was chasing yet again after his exploring little girl while Mahrree tried to calm down their fussy two-and-a-half-moons-old son. It seemed the only time they ever saw anyone else was in brief encounters like these. Hycymum dropped by frequently, but the vo
lume of her two grandchildren usually sent her home within fifteen minutes, and on Holy Days they visited the Densals in the evening to find out what they missed as they stood outside the congregational meetings, bouncing their noisy children.

That was the extent of their social world.

Excursions to the large green near the amphitheater were the most entertainment they could handle right now, but getting out as a family at least a few times a week felt important. The Shins simply didn’t have time to care about anything else like politics or the topics of the latest debates that went on without them.

Someday they would have time again, but now nothing was as important as their children. Their goal each day was to make sure their babies made it to bedtime with fewer bumps than the day b
efore. They had yet to reach that goal.

The old man shuffled towards them, but stooped down and caught Jaytsy with unexpected agility as she tried to charge past him.
He held her tenderly and continued his slow walk to Perrin, who jogged over to retrieve his daughter. The stooped gray man, whose face and hair were probably as dark as the richest soils when he was younger, chuckled as he sat down on the bench next to Mahrree. He wasn’t disturbed at all by Peto’s whining.

“They amuse you and aggravate you and amaze you,” he said as he stroked Peto’s soft hair. “They grow too fast, then not fast enough, then far away. They won’t talk, then they won’t stop talking, then they won’t talk to you at all. You want them to walk, then you want them to sit down, then they walk away.”

Perrin sat down next the man, but before he could speak he made the mistake of putting Jaytsy down again. She took off like a bolt of lightning, excitedly yelling “Dog!”—her label for anything that moved.

With a groan Perrin leaped back up to prevent her from gra
bbing an unsuspecting goose.

The old man chuckled, patted Mahrree on the shoulder, and said, “May I try?” He held out his hands for Peto.

Over her son’s arched and writhing body, Mahrree looked at sweet expression on the elderly man’s face. “Are you sure?”

He seemed sincere, but Peto was far too much to inflict on an
yone, especially that old.

The man didn’t answer but carefully lifted wailing Peto, put him over his shoulder, and patted him rhythmically and more firmly than Mahrree would have dared. But by the time Perrin returned with Jaytsy, who had narrowly escaped a pecking death by goslings, Peto was asleep.

“It takes a grandfather’s touch sometimes,” he smiled at the astonished parents.

Perrin shook his head in admiration. “But unfortunately our children don’t have grandfathers in Edge.”

The old man’s eyes glistened as held Perrin’s gaze. “I’m sorry about that. I believe grandfathers are the most important influence in a child’s life, after mothers and fathers, of course. Sometimes a grandfather can do and say things to a child no one else can. It may even be that at times a grandfather’s voice will be the only one he ever listens to. But what would I know,” he sighed. “I have no grandchildren in Edge. So I steal others’ grandchildren.” He closed his eyes in contentment as Peto snuggled into his wrinkled neck.

Mahrree smiled at the lonely grandfather. “Well, you’re we
lcome to ours any time, especially when they’re crying!”

Perrin nodded in agreement. “Quite a touch you have there. What’s the secret?”

The old man opened his eyes and shrugged. “No secret. Simply experience.” He reluctantly handed Peto back to his grateful mother, but not before sniffing in his baby scent. “Beautiful family,” he declared as he stood up.

He turned and put his hands on Perrin’s and Mahrree’s shou
lders. “May the Creator always bless and preserve this family.”

He smiled at them and slowly shuffled away, missing the pe
rplexed expressions of the parents he just left.

---

Hew Gleace watched the window anxiously from his seat behind the desk. He didn’t like sitting there. It wasn’t his desk to claim, but it was his to watch over while its true owner was away. He tried to read the papers resting on it, but couldn’t concentrate.

He gazed out the window again. Eventually he saw a cloud of dust and the appearance of eight horses and riders.

Gleace exhaled and got up from his seat. He darted outside just in time to see some of the younger men helping an old man off his horse.

“Tuma!” Gleace exclaimed when he saw how weary he was. “Are you all right?”

Tuma Hifadhi smiled. “Of course! Of course! Wonderful excursion. Now, if you could help me sit down on something that’s not moving . . .”

“Yes, yes,” Gleace said as he led the old man back into the small building. Two younger men guided him to sit down on a cus
hioned bench.

Tuma sighed as he put up his feet on the bench. “Much better!”

To the younger men he said, “Please tell my daughter I’ve returned, so she’ll stop fretting. She’ll inform everyone else.”

The men nodded and headed out the door.

Gleace pulled a chair over to sit across from Tuma. “If your wife were still alive—”

“She’d be as overly worried as my daughter, I know.”

Gleace shook his head. “So? Did you succeed in your little adventure?”

“I’m not a rebellious seventeen-year-old, you know!” Hifadhi chuckled.

“You acted like one, you know! Taking such a risk—”

“Now you sound like my father!”

“Well, maybe an eighty-seven-year-old needs to listen to a father!”

Tuma wiped a tear of laughter from his eyes.

Gleace smirked. He couldn’t keep up his angry pretense. “So?” he asked again.

Tuma beamed at him. “I saw him! And her! And their children! I even held both of them.”

Gleace’s mouth fell open. “Really? But you were there for such a short time—”

“I knew exactly where to be and what to do.”

“And you said whatever it was you wanted to say?”

Tuma smiled and nodded.

“There were easier ways, you know,” Gleace chided him.

“But easier is rarely better,” Tuma reminded.

Gleace sighed. “I hope you’ve satisfied your curiosity now. And Tuma, I hope you were careful.”

Hifadhi waved that off. “Of course I was careful. It’s been a few years, but I still know how to cover my tracks. They’ll remember me only as a lonely old man,
if
they remember me at all. And yes, Hew—I’ve satisfied my curiosity. It’s your curiosity I worry about now.”

Gleace chuckled and shook his head. “I’m not curious in the least bit. I’m just glad you’re safely back.”

“So am I!” Tuma admitted and closed his eyes. “And now I have no doubt. I looked into his eyes—it
is
him. The one we’ve been watching for.”

Gleace closed his eyes too, absorbing
Tuma’s words.

After a restful moment Tuma Hifadhi whispered, “Hew, send in our man.
Officially
.”

---

It was almost the end of Weeding Season, Captain Shin noticed as he wrote the date on the document that sat in front of him on his desk. The 90
th
Day. He had been a father to
two
small children for three full moons now, and so far they were both still alive. He and Mahrree must be doing something right, he thought proudly to himself.

He smiled at the anxious young man seated across from him, and he put the document into a file. “And now all that’s left to say is, Welcome to Fort Edge,” he said to his newest recruit.

The thin, sickly pale young man with stringy dirt-colored hair nodded to the captain as he rose from his chair. “I hope I won’t disappoint you, sir,” he said in a shaky voice as he shook the captain’s offered hand.

“Oh, I’m sure you won’t,” Shin lied genially as he came around the desk and opened the door to his office.

But he was sure he would. The boy was barely heavy enough to meet the weight requirement, and Perrin could have snapped his spindly arms like kindling with only one hand.

Then again, if the recruit didn’t pass the next two weeks’ of training, Perrin wouldn’t have to worry about any of that.

“I understand you’re nervous, but that’s why we prepare you,” he said brightly. “We’ll teach you to not be afraid of your fears.”

It was always good to practice the words, even if he didn’t think they would apply.

He put a comforting hand on the young man’s shoulder and gently directed him out to the large forward office. Shin stopped and looked around the empty tower.

“Hmm,” he said. “Neeks was supposed to be here.” He turned to the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. “Ah, Private Zenos. Have you seen Master Sergeant Neeks? I have a new recruit here that needs to be outfitted and given a tour.”

The next-to-last official recruit—convinced after only three moons of volunteering that soldiering was the life for him for the next two years—nodded as he came to the top of the tower stairs.

Everything had checked out on Shem Zenos, to Perrin’s su
rprise. He had no criminal record and he really was twenty years old, according to the piece of parchment Zenos produced last week that was signed by someone named Boskos Zenos. Perrin chose to believe the signature was authentic. Over the last few weeks he’d found himself quite taken with the perennially pleasant young soldier.

Private Zenos smiled cheerily at his commander. The boy w
as always beaming, as if he simply couldn’t help himself.

“Yes, Captain. The master sergeant was called away unexpec
tedly. He asked if I’d come up here to make his apologies. He hopes he won’t be too long.”

Captain Shin sighed at the new recruit. “I don’t want you to sit around wasting time, Private. I could give you the tour, I suppose—”

“Sir?” interrupted Private Zenos. “If I may, I can give him the tour. I just came off of duty, and I’m sure you have far more pressing matters.”

The new recruit gave Zenos a scowl that the private ignored.

Shin smiled. “You haven’t been here that long yourself, Zenos, to know
everything
about the fort.”

The young man grinned. “Not officially, sir, but as a volunteer I learned more about this fort than I think you’d want to know!”

Shin folded his arms. “I have to admit, Zenos, you do have a way of getting around. Private,” he said to the new recruit who glared at Zenos, “don’t trust this man’s innocent face and boyish ways. Private Zenos is the best scout I’ve ever met. He sees things no one else sees, and I swear the forest talks to him.”

Zenos nodded soberly, but his eyes were twinkling. “Oh, it does sir, it does.”

Shin shook his head. “Don’t make me regret getting you to sign up officially, Private. It’s talk like that that gets you regular visits with the surgeon.” He tapped his head.

Zenos chuckled. “Don’t worry—I can’t understand the trees’ language yet. But when I do, then I’ll be sure to schedule an a
ppointment with the surgeon. The tour, sir?”

The new recruit’s glare hardened to granite.

Shin didn’t notice. He shrugged and said, “Zenos, our newest private is all yours. Just get him back here so Grandpy can get him outfitted.”

The new recruit slowly turned to Zenos, his brown eyes boring holes through him.

Zenos just smiled broader. “Let’s start with the outer perimeter, then work our way in back to the office. I promise, Private, you won’t be disappointed!”

“Already am,” the new recruit mumbled under his breath, and
he followed Zenos down the long stairwell to the main receiving area.

“So,” Private Zenos said as they exited into the compound of the fort, “this is the fort!”

“Really?” the recruit said, unimpressed. He also no longer seemed nervous. “I couldn’t have figured that out by myself.”

Zenos grinned, ignoring the sarcasm. They walked towards the northeast entrance that faced the large fields before the forest. “Over there, where the horses are, are the stables. The smith is right next to it.”

The recruit merely rolled his eyes at the obvious.