Soldier at the Door (45 page)

Shem leaped to his feet. “YES!”

Hifadhi put a finger in his ear and wiggled it dramatically. “I know I’m old, but my hearing is still sharp . . . or it was.”

Shem looked at him apologetically. “I’m sorry, sir, I just—”

Hifadhi grinned. “I know, I know. And actually, that was the response I was hoping to see. It
is
the correct decision, Shem. I’m glad I see it’s what you really want as well.”

Shem nodded, then his face fell. “I just realized—I have to tell my father now.”

Hifadhi nodded slowly.

“Sir? Would
you
consider . . .”

“Telling your father?”

“Yes!” Shem smiled.

“No!” Hifadhi smiled back.

Shem’s mouth dropped open. “Why not?”

“If you can survive a Guarder attack, surely you can survive your father’s response to your news.”

-
--

A week later, on the 7
th
Day of Harvest, Corporal Zenos and Private Aims had finished their rounds of Edge and were starting back to the fort in the afternoon when Aims kept turning around.

“We’re being followed,” he whispered to Zenos.

“Just figured that out, did you?” Shem smirked. “He’s been following us for nearly ten minutes now. I come off of leave and already it begins . . .”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Wondering how long it would take for you to notice!” Zenos grinned.

Aims
glanced back again, not too subtly. “It’s annoying.”

“No, it’s called hero worship,” Zenos said. “Unless you don’t want to be a hero, then—”

“Well, it’s dangerous then!” Aims scowled. “He shouldn’t be tailing us like that, jumping from bush to bush. If there was a real threat, he could be in trouble.”

“I agree,” Zenos nodded. “So follow my lead.”

Zenos walked on for a few steps then stopped abruptly, grabbed Aims’s arm, dramatically pointed down a road, and took off running down a back alley. Aims followed, sniggering as they went. Zenos cut to the right and ducked behind a shed, and Ames followed him.

Then they waited.

Only seconds later their follower caught up, looking wildly around him.

Zenos burst out from behind the shed, wrapped one on his arms around their
tailer, and put another in front of his mouth. He picked him up and dragged the flailing hostage behind the shed. There he plopped him on the ground.

“Qualipoe Hili! What in the world do you think you’re doing?” Shem demanded of the ten-year-old who
stared up at him with terrified eyes.

“Come on, Zenos! What was that all about? Scared me nearly to death. Almost wet my trousers!”

“Almost?” Aims squinted, staring at Poe’s legs.

Poe scrambled back to his feet and brushed his blue silk shirt free of debris. “Making me into a mess—”

Shem grabbed his arm. “Answer me, Hili—what’re you doing?”

“Just . . . just wanting to see what you were doing,” Poe sighed.

Shem released him. “Playing soldier?”

“Not playing—
planning
. I want to join up!” Poe declared.

“You’re still a bit young, you know.”

“I know,” Poe shrugged. “It’s just that . . .”

“Just what, Poe?”

“Not much fun around here,” he mumbled.

“Edge of Idumea Estates? Or your new After School Care?”

Poe nodded sadly. “No soldiers. No Terryp. Only . . . work.”

Shem put his arm around Poe. “Well, we miss you too.
It’s not the same without you at the Shins.”

“Miss Mahrree’s was the
funnest,” Poe whispered.

“You know, you can still come by to visit,” Shem suggested.

Poe shook his head. “My mother won’t let me go north of the village green. She’s afraid of Guarders.”

“Ah,” Shem nodded. “And so the Shins’ home is . . .”

“Off limits,” he murmured and blinked back tears.

Shem knew how tough future soldiers all of 10 years old are, but still he hugged him—in a manly sort of way, of course.

“I’m so sorry, Poe. Maybe . . . maybe I can do something about that. I have connections, you know.”

“My mother doesn’t like soldiers, either,” he whispered. “So
rry.”

“Have you told her you want to join up when you’re older?”

Poe scoffed. “Are you kidding? She’d make me wash my own silk!”

Shem was about to suggest that perhaps Poe tell her anyway, because ruining his silk shirts wasn
’t exactly a punishment, but Aims rolled his eyes impatiently. “Zenos, we need to be getting back.”

“I’ve always got a few minutes for Poe Hili.” Shem squatted to look Poe in his dark brown eyes. “I’ll find a way for you to visit Mrs. Shin again. I know
people.
There’s that meeting tonight everyone’s supposed to go to. You can try running into the Shins there. And whenever I’m patrolling in Edge of Idumea, I’ll try to come by and throw a rock at you.”

Poe smiled dubiously and nodded. “Thanks, Zenos.”

-
--

That night Corporal Shem Zenos did his best to stand at attention, but he knew everyone was looking at him, and it made his skin crawl. His palms sweat. His stomach clench. His tongue thicken. Every time he looked up at the packed amphitheater he wished he could be swallowed up by a cavern in the forest. If only they would quit
smiling
at him.

And winking.

There she was again, Shem sighed. Even after seasons of ignoring her, Sareen was still persistent. Teeria had given up long ago, and was now in Mountseen at college and doing something productive with her life. But Sareen—the girl just couldn’t take a hint. He rarely looked at her, but every week at the Shins she kept looking at him. And winking. And giggling. And now,
everyone
was looking at him.

Just get it over with . . . just get it over with.

But Magistrate Cockalorum kept droning on and on about the remarkable skill of the soldiers five weeks ago, the dedication of the major, the unity of Edge . . .

Zenos wasn’t even standing on the platform yet—
only in front with several other soldiers acting needlessly as guards that night—but he wondered if he wouldn’t crumble under the pressure before he got up there. He decided to focus instead on the magistrate’s words.

That was a bad idea.

“ . . . but all of that wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for the bravery, the presence of mind, and the determination of the soldier who noticed the Guarders first, observed which directions they ran, warned the other soldiers, then headed off by himself to the Arky home where he single-handedly prevented the Guarder from doing more damage than they did. And then, with a serious head injury, he stumbled his way to the village green. For his outstanding efforts of the night of the raid, we proclaim as hero of Edge—and although he’s not from here, we’re going to claim him as our own—Corporal Shem Zenos! Come up here, son!”

The applause was far louder than Shem expected. With his head down to inspect the stairs, he plodded up them to stand next to the magistrate.

“Look at him, ladies! Can hardly see where he was injured, can you now? And he’s single and twenty-one!”

Now there was laughter along with the applause. Shem kept his head down, until he felt a large presence next to him.

Major Shin put a hand on his shoulder and placed his thumb at the base of Shem’s neck. He applied just the right amount of pressure to make Shem lift his head up to reduce the sharp pinch in his neck.

“Smile and wave, Corporal,” Shin muttered good-naturedly into his ear.

Shem smiled feebly at the audience. They applauded louder.

“I said
wave
, soldier!”

Shem raised his hand half-heartedly and gave a little wave.

A row of girls eagerly waved back and giggled.

“That was
pitiful
, Shem!” Shin hissed, but amused. “Now count to five, then go sit back down. Count
slowly
.”

Shem kept his plastered smile on his face as he counted, until he felt the major’s hand release him. Shem nodded to the crowd, then started to bound back down the stairs, almost forgetting to shake the
hand of the magistrate before doing so.

Mrs. Shin was chuckling at his embarrassment as he reached the bottom of the stairs, and she gestured for him to sit next to her. He gladly went up the aisle, picked up Jaytsy from the bench, and sat down with her on his lap. He hid behind the toddler as the applause began to die away.

Finally he could breathe again. Cockalorum started droning on again, but Shem wasn’t listening.

“So,” Mahrree leaned over to whisper in his ear, “did you ever imagine you’d become the claimed Hero of Edge? You realize they put off this Heroes Celebration until you returned from your leave.”

Shem shook his head miserably.

“You just love attention, don’t you?” Mahrree nudged him. “Wonder what your father will think? What your friends might think!”

“I promise you,” he whispered back, “no one where I’m from would
ever
have imagined this!”

She patted his back and chuckled.

Shem exhaled and closed his eyes.

This wasn’t exactly the best way to keep a low profile or remain anonymous.

-
--

Barker knew what to do, and he was a most obedient dog, especially when bacon was involved. With his tail wagging he trotted over to the back fence and sat obediently before the man in the dark jacket who stood on the other side in the alley. He was hidden by the shadows from the overhanging tree and practically melted into the night.

“Well done, well done,” the man said softly. “Up, up, up,” he commanded.

Barker put one heavy paw on top of the fence, and then the other. It was getting his back paw in the correct spot which caused him to scratch the fence repeatedly until he finally found the gap between the boards.

“Well done, well done,” the man repeated. “Up, up
up.”

Barker strained and lifted and heaved, finally pulling himself over the low fence that stood between him and freedom. With a
weighty splat he made it to the other side of the fence.

“Well done. End down,” the man said, but Barker was already sitting, anticipating the command.

The man chuckled softly and scratched him behind the ears. “Yes, you deserve a treat,” he said quietly, pulling out a piece of dried beef and holding it in front of the dog’s nose. “Jerky tonight. Hope you don’t mind.”

Barker didn’t. He didn’t even taste it as he gulped it down.

The man looked around slowly, watching the end of the road in the east, then across the way to the west until he felt confident all was quiet. He readjusted the dark floppy felt hat with the wide brim that many villagers wore, even though there was no chance of rain or sunshine that he needed to block.

“Well done,” he said to the dog, then turned to head east. “Alongside, alongside.”

Barker immediately walked on the man’s right side for his late night stroll, occasionally watering a bush that seemed in need of attention until the road intersected the alley.

“Alongside,” the man commanded, and Barker dutifully kept to his side as they turned south onto another road. Amiably the man nodded to two soldiers on patrol, walking quietly on the opposite side of the road. He even employed a friendly dog-wants-a-walk-again-in-the-middle-of-the-night-don’t-you-know-it attitude in his step.

The soldiers nodded back. They didn’t recognize the exact size and shape of the animal trotting alongside the man whom they also couldn’t see under the shadows of the hat. Then again, that man had been seen walking his dog late at night before. The man softly whistled a mindless tune as Barker stopped to befoul a flower garden. His walker waved casually at the soldiers in a slightly embarrassed manner.

The soldiers continued on.

A moment later Barker and the man continued on towards the center of the village. They turned down another alley and the man stopped. Barker stopped right next to him and sat automatically.

“Well done, well done. Now,” the man said, crouching down and pointing, “Away from me,” and he pushed Barker.

The dog immediately trotted in the pointed direction, going on without accompaniment. About a minute later the quietness of the air was punctuated by the sound of a squirrel being disturbed. Its high-pitched chipping stopped Barker in his tracks. He turned around and lumbered back to the man in the black jacket, whose ability to mimic animal sounds was uncanny.

“Well done, well done!” and Barker received another chunk of jerky, which he choked on momentarily in his rush to swallow it whole.