Soldier at the Door (13 page)

“I’m not really sure,” Mal smiled thinly.

Brisack was suspicious. “That’s rather unusual for you, to not have a well-thought out plan of action.”

“Oh, maybe we’ll be surprised to see what happens with our captain and his new private,” Mal’s tone was thick with planning.

Brisack blinked. “What have you
done?!”

“What makes you think I’ve done anything?”

“You’re not that good at concealing your intentions, Nicko! What have you done?”

Mal chuckled. “Just gave our private permission to do whatever is necessary to get close to the family. Flatter Mrs. Shin. Pretend to like babies. Compliment the captain. Become their favorite soldier.”

“And then?”

“Well, then, we’ll
have to see, won’t we?” Mal’s tone turned icy. “He’s there to gather information, find out about the captain, and discover what provokes and terrifies him. Until I know more about this horse, I won’t know how to break it.”

“So,” Brisack began to breathe a little easier, “nothing for now. Just . . . information gathering?”

“And then I’ll form my speculations in an unbiased, objective manner. Satisfied?” Mal sneered.

“Yes, actually I am,” Brisack said.

Chapter
5 ~ “They made us watch how a worm moves.”

I
t
was so late in Harvest Season that the Harvest Celebration was last week, but mercifully the Rainy Season storms had yet to arrive. That meant Mahrree could still take her babies outside in the cool but sunny afternoon.

Jaytsy, wearing a new sweater knitted in such a wild pattern that only her Grandmother Peto could have designed and named it pays-lee, picked dried weeds and tossed them over the low fence. Mahrree sat on her front porch holding Peto who had just dozed off. Maybe it was thanks to the blanket he was wrapped in that looked suspiciously as if it was made from the same dark blue wool used exclusively for dress uniforms, compliments of Grandmother Shin.

The sky was such an intense blue that it had shades of purple in it. The trees along the road, with the last of their yellow and orange leaves still clinging to the branches, stood out against the sky as a vivid complement. Mahrree pointed out the blueness of the sky to her daughter, but her nineteen- moons-old girl was far more interested in the dirt. Her almost six-moons-old son also didn’t notice the sky, but instead smiled in his sleep.

That was good enough for Mahrree—she thought nothing could be more ideal than that moment.

It took a long time to get there, though.

Peto was wearing his third dirt-colored dressing gown of the day because he didn’t like mashed anything Mahrree tried to feed him. While Peto continuously spat out his food his mother tried so hard to keep in him, Jaytsy was in the kitchen experimenting to see
what was in each of the eggs they had gathered from the neighbors’ chickens the day before. It wasn’t until Jaytsy was on the eleventh egg that Mahrree realized that her daughter had been quiet for some time.

Her parents had already learned the hard way that silence from a toddler was never a good thing.

After Mahrree had cleaned up the mess—Jaytsy helpfully pointed out sections of the kitchen her mother had missed and saying, “Ewwww! Ucky”—Mahrree heard Peto fussing. He had learned at that moment how to roll continuously. Although Mahrree had left Peto securely in his napping blankets, he was now in the study, stuck underneath a chair.

While Mahrree rescued and comforted her startled son, Jaytsy announced another “
Ewww!” and lead Mahrree to a new spot in the gathering room she ‘accidentally’ left. Mahrree realized then that she was out of clean washing cloths and trudged out to the washing rack in the back yard, with both children in her arms to prevent any new developments, to find something dirty to mop up the latest spill.

That’s when she decided it was time for her daily break.

Someone had told her that quitting her teaching job, shortly before Jaytsy was born, would leave her with too much time on her hands and no purpose. She was still waiting—and looking forward—to that day.

As Mahrree sat soaking up the last of the sunny weather before the dreariness of the Raining Season showed up, she congratulated herself on getting out. It had been her goal to spend some time ou
tside with her children each day, even if it was for a few minutes. It gave her time to reflect and chuckle about what had her life meant now.

Every day held some kind of surprise, usually good, occasiona
lly revolting. And not all of them derived from the children.

She glanced over at the black blob resting under a twiggy bush and grumbled. That was one of the worst.

Three moons ago Perrin came home, a little later than usual, with a large item in his arms wrapped in an old army blanket. Through the wavy glass she couldn’t quite tell what it was, but when she opened the back door for him she gasped.

“No!”

“Ah, Mahrree . . . give it a chance!” He pulled back part of the blanket and immediately Mahrree recoiled.

“What
is
that?!”

He chuckled. “What do you think it is?”

“Perrin—a bear cub?! Are you insane? How can the children—”

“It’s not a bear cub—it’s a puppy!”

“That’s a, a, a
puppy?!
” she stammered. Already its head was as large as hers. She looked at the black muzzle that was remarkably bear-like, the dark droopy eyes, and the black floppy ears—

Bears didn’t have floppy ears.

But puppies were supposed to be small, the size of a cat at most, and not so large so that her burly husband strained under the weight of it.

He set the ‘puppy’ on the ground and finished unwrapping it to reveal a completely black animal with ragged fur. It looked up at Mahrree with the most forlorn eyes she had ever seen.

She decided that was one conniving creature.

“Look at his paws. See how large they are?” Perrin said eagerly. “That means he has to grow into them, so he’s still only a puppy!”

Mahrree swallowed. The paws were as large as her hands. “Where did this come from?”

Perrin shrugged. “Well, Private Zenos found him along the c
anal all alone and filthy. Looks pretty sad, doesn’t he? We washed him up, dried him with the blanket here, and I think all he needs is some love and food, right boy?” He bent over and scratched the creature behind the ears.

It looked up at him with dripping eyes.

Mahrree’s upper lip curled. “And to think I liked Private Zenos. Thanks for nothing, Messenger! Are we supposed to
keep it?
”

Perrin beamed. “He’ll be a great watch dog! I’m going to name him Barker. Now you and the children will always be safe. Any Guarder passing our garden will think twice about coming in when he sees an animal like that!”

“Now
I’m
thinking twice about staying here with an animal like that,” she murmured.

“He’ll grow on you,” Perrin assured her as he petted the beast that trembled nervously in his new surroundings.

“Uh-huh,” Mahrree said dubiously. “He’ll grow on me, over me, around me . . .”

Perrin squatted down by the animal masquerading as a dog.
“Look at that face, Mahrree. How can you send it back out in the cold?”

“It was hot enough today to cook bacon on the cobblestones!”

Perrin scrunched up his face to look remarkably like the animal, his dark eyes nearly as pitiful and pleading.

Mahrree exhaled. “You train it, clean up after it, and don’t make me touch it.”

“You won’t regret this!” Perrin grinned as he kissed her.

In the past season she regretted the
thing
every day. Especially when Jaytsy began to discover some of its droppings that Perrin hadn’t yet cleaned up. At least all it ever did was sleep and eat whatever Peto flung on the floor, licking the wood with such fastidiousness that he would soon create a groove around Peto’s baby chair.

And so far, he was a remarkably silent dog. But someday he would live up to his name, and then Mahrree would announce it was time for him to go.

Undoubtedly Barker knew that, so he never made a sound.

The animal, now twice as large and still growing, looked up at her as if trying to understand her glare for his adding to the messes she had to clean up each day. There was absolutely no malice in the dog’s eyes. Just pleading for acceptance.

Mahrree nodded at it once—the most she could manage—and Barker put his head back down to enjoy the last of the fair weather. Mahrree rolled her eyes at him and looked back up at the road.

A child was coming down the road heading towards the main fort road, one of her former morning students.

“Hello Mr. Hili!” she called cheerfully. “Where are you off to on this glorious afternoon?”

Qualipoe smiled and bounded up the road to her house. He let himself in the gate and awkwardly accepted the weed Jaytsy offered him.

Barker didn’t even twitch his nose at someone coming in the gate. Guard dog, indeed.

“You don’t have to eat Jaytsy’s weed, even though she finds them tasty,” Mahrree assured Qualipoe.

He nodded in relief. “I’m going to watch the soldiers do their drilling,” he said as he came and sat down on the steps below Mahrree. Immediately he stood back up, brushed the stones carefully free of any dirt, then sat down again.

Mahrree had wondered about his clothing as he had approached. Under his woolen jacket was a shirt of shimmering pale yellow that set off his light brown skin, and his pants were a dark fabric more tightly woven and finely spun than Perrin’s dress uniform. Even his thick black hair was carefully combed. Qualipoe sat stiffly.

“I don’t think I’ve
ever
seen such a fine set of clothing before, Poe.”

He sighed as heavily as his nine-year-old lungs would allow. “It’s called an
outfit
,” he explained. “And I am not supposed to get it dirty.”

Mahrree cringed in sympathy. “Kind of hard to throw dirt clods in, I guess.”

“Yes,” he said miserably.

“May I ask why you are wearing such nice clothing?”

“Because it’s what everyone at the seaside villages are wearing this season.”

“So,” Mahrree ventured, “why do you think
you
are wearing it? We’re days away from the sea, and people usually only visit it once in their lives.”

He looked at her with dismay.

“Obviously you haven’t been out to the new shops,” he said in a sophisticated tone that startled Mahrree. “This is what
everyone
is wearing now. Except you.”

Mahrree nodded amusedly and fingered the rounded collar on his shirt. “No, I haven’t gotten out much lately. That feels amazing, I must admit. What’s it called?”

“I think it’s silk.”

“I’ve heard of silk, but never saw any before. Guess it’s finally arrived in Edge.”

“It’s really gross to think about,” Poe said, pulling a face. “It’s actually worm droppings, or something like that.” 

Mahrree’s fingers immediately stopped moving on the collar. “I think it may be something a little different than
that,
” she suggested as she let the collar go.

“All I know is, I can’t play. I have to sit and look like a han
dsome young man.”

“That
is
a burden,” Mahrree agreed. “Is that what your mother said before she sent you out this afternoon?”

“It’s what she said before she went to work and I left for school.
She said she’d be home by dinner time.”

That troubled Mahrree. She knew Poe’s mother had started working since her son was now in the new Full School system i
mplemented in Edge, ‘only as trial basis,’ the Administrators had assured. About half of the parents had signed up their children, and soon after began working further from home.  But she hadn’t expected Poe would be left on his own.

“No one’s home for you right now? You’re all alone?”

“I’m sitting here with you!” he said brightly. “And I’m going to meet my friends at the fort.”

“Still, that’s a bit of a walk from your home. You know, you can stay here with me until dinner time. We can talk.”

“Talk about what?”

“Oh, all kinds of things. What are you learning about in school?”

“Angles,” he said glumly.

“Ooh, angles are important. You can measure things with angles and you certainly can’t make a proper catapult without understan
ding angles.”

“We’re not making catapults this year, we’re just talking about them.” He kicked the dirt by his shoe.

“Not making them!” Mahrree was aghast. Catapult Day was a village tradition that was coming up in only two weeks. “Well, how are you going to launch the gourds this year?!”

“We’re not. Remember last year, when one of the girls got hit with a piece of pumpkin and cried and cried and cried?”

“Yeesss.” Mahrree didn’t like the direction this was going. “It didn’t even leave a mark,” she remembered.

Getting hit on Catapult Day was an unwritten tradition. You were truly a member of the village if you caught a bit of vegetative shrapnel. While the event was officially a day for the children from all the schools to come together and put into practice elements of math and science they learned over the year, much of the village would sit alongside the field with their offerings of spoiled gourds and vegetables to be thrown. Picnics were brought by mothers and friendly bets were placed by grandparents.

Often the extensive participation of the fathers revealed that little of the catapults were their children’s designs. But since the purpose was to observe how all kinds of forces worked, including the force of competitiveness, the teachers had long since turned a blind eye to parental involvement. 

During the Great War, catapults had been used to throw rocks from one village towards the approaching soldiers of another. At times the fighting became so desperate that villages threw gourds, melons, and even an occasional piece of ugly furniture.