Soldier at the Door (23 page)

It was the light that was bothering him, Brisack concluded later.

The vast library that used to be a throne room was always dim or dark when they met. But that night the faint glow of the candle cast an odd hue on every feature, causing shadows to occur where they never were before, making nothing look the way it should look, or the way the doctor
assumed
they should appear.

Instead, the tiny light that hurt his eyes twisted everything into different and strange shapes, yet at the same time they were also di
stantly familiar, and that threatened everything.

He blew out the candle.

The world became black enough for him to think again without annoying distractions, allowing him to see things precisely the way he needed them to be seen.

“In every study there’s an anomaly,” he declared, once again in complete control of his faculties, “which won’t conform to the norms and defies the accepted truth. Anomalies must be tossed out to clar
ify the study and develop the irrefutable results.”

“She’s also challenging the most recent findings of the exped
ition sent west by the Administrator of Science,” Mal reminded him. “Although Hitchin wouldn’t care. Like a good scientist he looks at the carefully selected evidence, makes up his mind about what it all means, then listens to nothing else than his own intelligence.” He almost chuckled.

Brisack looked back at the letter. “No one thinks about that land beyond the western desert anymore. Maybe only a handful of people. Who was it that mapped it years ago? Someone named Terryp?”

“I believe so. All his maps were destroyed. I made a thorough search when I took over four years ago. Nothing’s hidden in any cabinets anywhere.”

             
Brisack stared at the carefully penned letter. She didn’t rethink a single word. “Doesn’t mean there isn’t something still remaining,” he whispered more to himself. “What did Hitchin’s men do out there for two seasons anyway?”

“I actually read that report,” Mal said, examining his finge
rnails. “Had to. Needed to make sure the argument for containment was made correctly. The ‘research team’ camped at the edge of the forests outside of Sands, watching the desert for a full season. If they had seen any animals come out, then they would have gone in.”

Brisack stared blankly, no longer seeing Mrs. Shin’s writing. “So
Hitchin concluded that the western land was still poisoned because . . .”

“He used sound scientific methods as you did, Doctor,” Mal smiled coldly. “He extrapolated that there was nothing coming from the
other
side of the desert, so there
was
nothing alive on the other side to come through. The land to the west is still dead, and therefore so would be anyone who was foolish enough to go there. I believe he said he may have employed some kind of logic sequence. Maybe the same one as you?”

“She saw right through his so-called research,” Brisack whi
spered. “That’s why she listed it here. She can
see
. . . somehow she
knows
. . .”

“You were right earlier—she’s an anomaly. So is he,” Mal said steadily. “So when do we eliminate ‘the anomalies’ that plague both of our research?”

Brisack felt his composure slipping out of his grasp again. One part of him was enraged by Mrs. Shin’s doubts about his studies, and it demanded revenge for her arrogance.

It was ready to shout,
Today!

Yet another part, the side he was more familiar with, that li
stened to reason and stepped back frequently to watch the world that swirled around him pleading to be put into some kind of order, quietly nagged him.
Then you’d never know. There’s simply too much potential research here to eliminate just yet. There
must
be a way to prove they can conform. A way to
force
their conformity.

“It could be done,” Mal continued in a soothing tone. “Even though you went to such lengths to get a message to her husband to ensure she remained alive last year. It’s not too late to reverse your ways. I’m curious, Doctor—any regrets about saving her now?

“I did it for the babies,” Brisack said, not particularly sure if that was an honest answer. Not completely sure of anything just yet.

“And not for her?”

“I don’t know,” the doctor reluctantly confessed. “Babies need mothers, after all. Otherwise, they’re a burden on society.”

“But mothers like
this
one?”

“Husbands need wives,” Brisack tried again, hoping the stat
ement would feel true. “Well,
some
men think they need wives.”

Mal shook his head slowly. “So you did it for
him
, did you?”

Brisack sighed. “He does seem to love her, from what I’ve heard.”

“She’s a potentially dangerous woman, Brisack,” Mal pointed out.

“She hasn’t done anything wrong. Yet,” the doctor pointed back.

“A letter will be wanted in Edge in response to this,” Mal gestured to the parchment still on Brisack’s lap. “We can send a few
other
things in response as well.”

“It’s too early to eliminate,” Brisack whispered, although he wasn’t sure why. The words just came out of his mouth, bypassing his brain which was still too confused to formulate a speculation as to why. “We can
still
see what it would take to break this horse and his mare. Perhaps they’re not anomalies, but extremes of what we’re proving. They still may be within our research, simply on the edges. We have to prove that. They
are
just like everyone else.”

Mal grinned, and had the candle still been lit, it would have been snuffed out by the darkness of his smile. “I couldn’t agree more. All of this has thrown a most stimulating twist to all our a
ssumptions. She’ll receive an answer, form letter number one, as recommended by Gadiman. She’ll be thrilled with it until her husband points out that everyone receives the same letter. Then we’ll see what she does next.”

“Agreed,” Brisack nodded, the letter tight in his hands. He was grateful that someone else provided an answer, laid before him a path that he could take, since he couldn’t find any path for himself.

Any
route is better than none when you can no longer find your way. Everyone knows that.

“But we can’t allow her to think she knows anything, that she’s as intelligent as she believes she is,” Brisack pointed out. “She must be put in her place.”

“I propose that we begin new research, a test of Mrs. Shin,” Mal said. “Let’s see how curious, intelligent, and
nosy
this creature truly is. I suspect she may be a cat. Most females are. This letter may have just been some feminine whim which will die away just as quickly, proving that she’s as flighty as every other woman. But if she writes
again
,” Mal’s voice developed a sharper edge, “and demonstrates that she’s passed our test, then we may have to develop some news ways of proving her.”

“What kind of test do you have in mind?”

“I’ve been thinking—she’s opposed to Full School, and a few quiet rumors have been floating that others may be unhappy as well. But we can drown several cats in one well here, so to speak. The Department of Instruction is already drafting a document expounding upon the finer points of Full School—” Mal’s sickly smile returned, “—and its goals for the future. That will demonstrate to any questioning citizens how little they really understand. Should anyone respond to it—and
how
—we’ll have a clearer picture of who we need to further humble.

“But I doubt anything will come from it,” he said, almost disa
ppointedly. “People are stupid. And they’re too stupid to know they’re stupid, until someone points their stupidity out to them. This document will do that. Earlier this evening I read through the first drafts. It’s fantastic.”

Brisack’s shoulders relaxed that no decisions were his that night. “How long until it’s ready?”

“A few weeks, at least. Probably more.” Mal gestured to the letter. “We’ll wait on the Form Letter, too. Let her stew for a time.”

Brisack nodded. “There’s something else. I nearly forgot the reason we’re here—I haven’t heard anything from our new man in Edge. There should have been some kind of contact in the past four
moons.”

Mal nodded slowly. “Not sure what happened to the new recruit I selected. I’m still waiting on the north about that. Communication has become exceptionally spotty up there. But it seems we still have an inside man, someone our observers in Edge likely put in, not knowing we had someone else chosen. Word filtered up recently through the relays that the other man will not make contact unless absolutely necessary. He sees his task as keeping Shin ‘in the game.’ To do so, he’s chosen to keep a low profile.”

“Hmm. If he’s
too
quiet, we won’t get much information, will we? Do we want to encourage this?” said Brisack.

“I realize it’s not exactly what
you
wanted,” Mal said, “but we have other sources until we find out what happened to the other new recruit. Let this ‘quiet man’ keep his low profile until we’re ready to demand something more.”

Brisack nodded and stared deep into the shadows of the room, willing them to stay in their places.

Chapter
7
~
“Someone
like
her,

but
not her
.”

P
errin remembered the date: the 16
th
Day of Raining Season.

It was four weeks since Mahrree sent her letter to the Depar
tment of Instruction and, he was secretly relieved, she had yet to receive a response.

As he walked briskly home in the falling snow that evening he hoped again that if she did get an answer, it would be one of the form letters. The moment she’d left the house to put that envelope into the message carrier’s bag, Perrin had begun to regret it. She likely hadn’t said anything seditious or threatening, but
merely the fact that she said anything at
all
could be construed as something
more
. That was just the way they thought in Idumea, as if the water in the city—specifically the springs that fed the red and orange Administrative Headquarters—caused paranoid delusions.

But then again, she was
only a little wife from a tiny village and no one in the world would ever think twice about her.

The more he told himself that along his damp jog home, the closer he came to believing it.

He trotted up the front steps where snow was just beginning to accumulate, and paused before opening his front door, prepared for almost anything. He took a deep breath and pushed. The door stuck partway.

“Not surprising,” he mumbled, trying to shove it open. “Knew I should have tried the back door.” He slipped his body in as far as it would go, but it wasn’t far enough. His broad chest lodged securely between the frame and the door, and he realized he should’ve taken
off his overcoat before trying to force his way in.

“Mahrree?” he called hesitantly.

There was no sound from the surprisingly quiet house.

He took a deep breath and shoved open the door the rest of the way. The sound of chairs tumbling to the ground behind it made him cringe.

On the floor he saw what had jammed the door: one of his work shirts was wedged in the gap. He worked it free and dared to examine the rest of the room.

“Oh, boy,” he groaned. “Or rather,
boys.
”

He took a step, felt something give way and crumble under his boot, and immediately chose not to look down. He had done that last week, and regretted it.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the effort,” he muttered as he picked his way through the mess, “but it really
is
a small house—”

Giggles stopped his forward progress. He froze in place to ide
ntify the sound.

“Now
girls?
”

The giggles floated to him again, from the kitchen.

He exhaled. “It’s about time!” He plowed through the rest of the gathering room, past the eating table that was buried under too many things for him to identify, and opened the door to the kitchen.

It was bursting with females.

Mahrree was just about to open her mouth to say something when she saw her husband. “Oh, is it that time
already
?”

“Yes,” he said slowly, looking at the two teenage girls who stared back at him uncertainly.

“Perrin, you remember Sareen and Teeria? They were my students when we first met.”

“I do,” he lied, but smiled at them anyway. “Don’t tell me
they
need watching after school, too?”

Sareen, holding Peto, giggled.

That’s
right, Perrin thought to himself. The Giggler. The other must be The Smart One. There was a third one, The Hair Tosser, but she’s gone to some other village to spend a few seasons with her grandmother.

“No, Captain Shin,” Teeria rolled her eyes and she wiped Jaytsy’s runny nose. “We’re here to clean up and start dinner for Mrs. Shin.”

“You were right,” Mahrree sighed. “I do need help in the afternoons. So I hired me some.”

He looked around the empty kitchen devoid of any smells su
ggesting dinner. “Ah. And they’ve done an excellent job, too.”

Mahrree gently slapped his arm. “You’re such a tease. I haven’t seen the g
irls in many moons so we’re catching up first.”

“Understood,” he said, pulling up a chair and sitting down.

Sareen’s giggle strangled in her throat.

Jaytsy slid down out of
Teeria’s tense arms and climbed up on her father’s lap.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Perrin said cheerily to the shocked girls as he cuddled Jaytsy. “Since I have a daughter, I need to learn how women talk. Besides, after spending all day around only soldiers—”

Sareen got a dreamy look in her eyes, and Teeria actually sighed longingly. Mahrree looked at her former students with amused concern.

Perrin blinked a few times. “—I need something to entertain me until dinner’s ready.”

“I was going to start on that,” Mahrree promised him. “The girls will get to work on the gathering room. It’s not too bad, is it?”

Perrin’s eyebrows went up. “Ever see any twisters up here in Weeding Season?”

Mahrree chuckled and shook her head. “Too close to the mountains, I guess.”

“Well, I’ve seen the aftermath, north of Orchards,” he told her. “And in our gathering room, ten twisters touched down, didn’t they?”

“Only nine,” Mahrree told him. “Poe was ill today. Not that his mother was too happy about having to miss a day at the Edge of Idumea Estates to
care
for her
son
,” she said in a pinched tone. “She wanted to leave him here in our bedroom.”

“No Poe today?” Perrin nodded. “That explains why the ceiling was still relatively clean.”

“That wasn’t Poe’s fault last week!” Mahrree laughed. “That was Shem’s. I’m not taking any more of his ideas.”

“Just mine?” he grinned.

“I’m wondering if I should listen to
you
anymore now. Having the boys act out Terryp’s Large Man Who Holds Up the World? They tried to hold up everything, unsuccessfully.”

Perrin chuckled. “But they went home happy?”

“Very!” Mahrree beamed. “And guess what? All of them passed the Department of Instruction exam.”

“Well done, Mrs. Shin!” Perrin beamed back. “Told you they’d need only half an hour of instruction each day.”

“And then two hours of
de
struction?”

Teeria looked at her former teacher with alarm. “You spend o
nly half an hour tutoring them? I thought they were here for two and a half hours!”

“They are,” Mahrree said. “But honestly, girls, can you imagine trying to keep ten boys, ages eight to thirteen, seated for two and half hours studying? After all day in school?!”

Teeria shook her head. “I’m so glad I finished last year.”

Sareen exhaled a sad giggle. “And I still have to finish this year. I couldn’t imagine sitting around for another two hours
after
each day.”

“See? And I heard from one of their teachers that all of them passed a few points higher than the rest of the children.” Mahrree nodded at them triumphantly.

“You’ll have to start letting in girls then, too,” Teeria warned her.

“There’s no room!” Mahrree exclaimed. “But maybe someone else will see the need and fill it.”

“Miss Mahrree,” Teeria started shyly, “Did you say
Private Zenos
was helping you?” Her normally serious eyes glowed with hope.

“Yes,” Mahrree said, eyeing the eighteen-year-old. “He comes by once a week to spend the afternoon with the boys. He’s planning next week to send them all on a relay race if the weather is coopera
ting.”

“Does he run, too?” Teeria breathed as her face flushed. “
Fast?
”

Perrin looked down at his daughter, slowly shook his head, and groaned softly.

“I’m not sure, Teeria,” Mahrree struggled to keep her face sober. “Perhaps you’ll want to come by earlier that day and
watch
him.”

It was her little whimper of amorous anticipation that made Pe
rrin look up at Teeria. The poor girl flushed red, glanced at the captain, turned purple, and headed for the kitchen door.

“I may have to consider that. I best see to the private—
gathering
room. Come, Sareen.”

Sareen squinted after her friend who fled out the door.

“I pointed him out
first
,” she muttered as she handed Peto to Mahrree, grabbed a pail and cleaning cloth, and headed out to the eating table.

Perrin and Mahrree covered their mouths to conceal their snorts, but tears of laughter leaked from their eyes.

“I better warn Zenos!” Perrin chortled in a whisper.

“Don’t!” Mahrree giggled. “Let’s see how well he handles an ambush.” She placed Peto on Perrin’s other knee.

“And how are my little ones?” Perrin asked, kissing each one on the forehead. They leaned into him, bonked their heads against each other instead, and both burst into tears.

Mahrree smiled in sympathy as Perrin soothed them. “They’re exhausted. They seem to think they have to keep up with the boys. They
were
dirtier, but the girls already cleaned them up.”

“So hiring the girls—I’m assuming this means that all the pa
rents agreed to pay you for this After School Care?”

She nodded. “I was really surprised. I thought they would be more opposed to it, but they seem desperate for someone to take in their sons.”

“Well, if they do at their homes what they’ve done to
this place
. . .”

“There’s enough to pay the girls,” Mahrree said, chopping ca
rrots and potatoes, “Teeria’s saving up to go to the college at Mountseen next year, we can cover our expenses, and still save up for a long sofa.”

“You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?” Perrin smiled as Jaytsy, thumb in mouth, snuggled into his chest, and Peto tried to kick her off his father’s lap.

“Except that I’m ready for a nap as soon as dinner’s over,” she murmured wearily, plopping the vegetables into a large pot.

“Would you want your life any other way?”

She shook her head. “I think my life is as close to perfect as I could ever have imagined it. Now, if I could just find some time to still read.”

“You can read when these two,” he held his daughter and son, each in an arm, just out of reach of the other, “go off to Mountseen
for college. Until then, I had an idea for the boys.”

Mahrree bit her lip. “Why does my chest always tighten when your eyes glow like that? Let me have your latest idea for Education, Shin Style.”

“Catapults!”

Her eyebrows went up. “Those take a lot of work, times ten.”

He shook his head. “Don’t make them so big. Something smaller, simpler. You don’t need to throw pumpkins to demonstrate the principle. Only
snowballs
.”

Mahrree grinned. “I love it! Just yesterday two mothers told me in the market that they didn’t want their boys throwing snowballs at each other, because they might mess up their outfits.”

“That’s why you’ve pulled out all my old work shirts, isn’t it? Took some out of the rag bag to protect their precious clothing?”

“Yes, and now we can allow them to launch snowballs,” she grinned impishly, “and if a snowball happens to hit another boy, they can blame the invention and not the friend. I can’t understand why these parents won’t let their boys act like boys!”

Perrin’s eyes glowed. “I absolutely love the way your mind works, my darling wife.”

“That’s because our minds are so much alike,” she winked at him.

“After dinner I’ll work on that sled and harness for Barker. Then he’ll be able to pull the children up to the fort when you bring your Ten for their tour week after next.”

Mahrree glanced at the great black beast lying against the back door, a puddle of drool forming on the ground under his mouth. Barker was as tired out as the children, having been one of the many items the boys attempted to pick up for two hours that afternoon. Otherwise, he would have been crowding Perrin’s lap as well.

“Sure he couldn’t pull all of us?”

Perrin shrugged. “He could probably pull you.”

“Right into the river,” Mahrree shivered. “Never mind.”

“Oh, you can control him,” Perrin said. “He’s slow enough.”

“In his mind, yes. With his responses to commands, most definitely. But when he sees water? Nope.”

Perrin chuckled. “Any messages today?” he tried to say casua
lly.