Soldier at the Door (71 page)

“Sorry, Miss Mahrree. Guess I did fall asleep. Shem was right. Wonderful pillow!”

“Oh, I’m the one who’s sorry, keeping you out so late,” Mahrree said with feigned brightness as she stepped into the house. At least it was dark enough that Sareen couldn’t see Mahrree’s puffy red eyes. “I fell asleep myself at my mother’s, and . . .”

She was just one lie after another. Merely
a silly little woman with silly little ideas that amounted to nothing. She felt heavy with her worthlessness.

Barker trotted
and headed straight for the kitchen.

Sareen waved her hand under her nose. “I see, or rather
smell,
that you found Barker.”

“Uh, yes,” Mahrree said slowly, hoping she wouldn’t have to explain how. “You know, it’s so late, maybe you should stay here tonight, Sareen.”

The poor girl giggled again. “My mother will be expecting me to check in tonight, so I best go. Besides, should
Corporal Zenos
come by—”

Mahrree had to do at least one right and honest thing that night, or the weight of her guilt would sink her through the wood floor
to the cellar.

“Sareen,” she took her firmly by the arm, “I’m so sorry, but Corporal Zenos just isn’t interested in . . . having a girlfriend. I don’t know that he will for a very long time.”

Sareen’s persistently cheery glow dimmed. “I know that, Miss Mahrree,” she said with uncharacteristic soberness. Not even a serious giggle accompanied her grave tone. “I know he’s only being polite to me, and that if isn’t attracted to me yet, he likely never will be.”

Mahrree didn’t expect any of that. “So you understand that?”

“I’m not stupid, Miss Mahrree. I may not be at the college at Mountseen like Teeria and Hitty, but I do know a thing or two.”

Even though she’d been a woman for over thirty years now, Mahrree still didn’t understand females. “So Sareen, why do you keep trying? Keep talking about him?”

“The truth’s hard to live with, Miss Mahrree,” she said with a sad smile.

Mahrree’s throat developed an enormous lump, other
wise she would have said, Don’t I know it.

“I’d rather keep the little dream alive.” But she shrugged in di
scouragement as she watched her fingers twist a part of her skirt. “Just in case he . . . changes his mind and surprises me one day.”

Mahrree was completely baffled. “But Sareen, I just
told you
, and you admitted that
you know
—”

“He could change his mind!” Sareen insisted, her head snapping back up to face her former teacher. “Suddenly one morning he could wake up, realize he’s lonely, look around and see me there, that I’ve always been there, waiting and hoping. And then he’ll realize how much he wants me, and . . .”

Her chin trembled until a giggle—hard and determined—forced its way out.

“And then we’ll just see!”

I’m just like her
, Mahrree thought dismally. I know the truth is out there, but I’d much rather live with the lies I’ve created for myself. Lies such as, I’m a smart, brave woman willing to do whatever it takes to uncover the secrets and find the truth.

But we
want
to see the blue in the sky—Mahrree had to admit to herself—despite all evidence to the contrary.

The Administrators were winning.

I’m such an idiot. And so is Sareen. 

“Sareen, promise me you’ll look at other young men, too,” Mahrree said. “Just in case Shem never . . . comes to his senses to see what he’s missing in you.”

Sareen nodded, the cheeriness automatically returning as if she had practiced that happy look a dozen times a day to be sure it appeared authentic. “I will, Miss Mahrree.” She turned to head down the front stairs.

“Please be careful, Sareen! Run home!”

Sareen waved that off. “Look at the tower. No fires, no banners—nothing’s wrong. The forest is completely quiet and I’m perfectly safe. Good night!”

“Good night,” Mahrree whispered at the willingly naïve, stupid girl.

Edge was full of them that night.

She slowly shut the door, hung up her cloak, and trudged heav
ily to the kitchen. Barker lay at the back door, already asleep despite his filth.

“Who is it, Barker? And why? How do they—?”

She sighed, took the grooming brush from out of a drawer, and plopped down on the floor in the dark kitchen next to the dog.

“You realize I’m asking you because I know you can’t answer, right? I’ll ask every question in the world as long as I know I won’t get an answer.” Her words choked her with a renewal of humbling disgrace, and with tears streaming down her face, she started to brush the burrs and twigs out of Barker’s thick black fur.

She was completely surprised to hear the back door unlock and someone push on it a moment later.

“Barker! Get away!” Perrin’s voice came through the door.

Barker only grunted, and Mahrree took him by his legs and dragged him away from the door.

Perrin pushed it open and saw her in the dim moons’ light. “Mahrree! What are you doing up so late?”

She had honest answer. “The dog just came home and he’s a mess. I was trying to clean him up a bit. Didn’t feel like sleeping.”

Perrin slipped into the house and shut the door behind him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you’d still be up, worried.”

That would be her alibi, she decided as she picked out burs and brushed the fur.

Perrin sat down next to her and ran his hand over the dog to catch the twigs. “What in the world has he been up to? Last time I saw him was yesterday evening. And what’s with that smell? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was rolling around in bear dro
ppings.”

“You know about that, huh?” Mahrree asked, hoping her tone sounded light and teasing.

“Stepped in some right outside the forest once,” he confessed in a whisper. “Looks like he had a good time, whatever it was.”

She didn’t respond.

He kissed her on the cheek. “I really am sorry I didn’t send a messenger. I could never find Zenos, and I thought you would figure what was going on. And what was going on was . . . Well, we still don’t know,” he sighed in frustration. “Gizzada said he saw you around midday meal and filled you in a bit.”

“He did,” Mahrree said as cheerfully as she could muster, glad he couldn’t see her lying face. “Did he bring you two sandwiches like I ordered him to?”

Perrin chuckled quietly as he continued pulling out burs. “I’ve never before had a sandwich made with the meats of three different animals, and since he also added goat cheese and lettuce, then put it on oat and barley bread, I felt like I was devouring an entire farm. But somehow he made it work, quite well. He should sell those in the market. I couldn’t even finish the second one and didn’t get hungry again until about an hour ago. Is that pie on the work table?”

“Yes,” Mahrree said. “Blackberry. Do you want some?”

There was absolutely nothing wrong with the words she spoke, but so much emotion came out with them that it sounded as if she was trying to conceal the fact she had murdered their children.

Perrin heard it.

“Mahrree, are you all right?” He put his arm around her and pulled her close.

“Yes,” she lied again, unconvincingly.

“At times like this I remember my father’s only advice about women: when they’re crying but claim they’re fine, they’re the biggest liars in the world.”

“You have no idea!” Mahrree burst out.

“Ah, boy,” he mumbled to himself. “Not getting to bed anytime soon, am I?” He gave her a squeeze. “So tell me, my darling wife—what I have done now?”

“Nothing! It’s not you, it’s me!” she said shortly, and went back to brushing the dog a bit too aggressively.

She wouldn’t cry. Not anymore. She’d already proved she was weak and worthless; crying would only emphasize that.

“Not my fault? Well, good. That simplifies everything. Now, what could it be that has my wife so worked up tonight?” he said easily. “Another man she has hidden in the cellar? Spent all our sa
vings on silk underclothes for Jaytsy? Sold Peto to the Administrators?”

“Perrin, just
never mind. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

He paused. “By that do you mean, ‘I really
do
want to talk about it, but I need you to convince me that I do,’ or ‘I really
don’t
want to talk about it’?”

She sighed.

“And . . . no answer,” he said, realizing he had yet another mystery on his hands. “You think after more than three years of marriage I’d understand you better.”

“That’s because I don’t even understand myself,” she whi
spered. “I thought I did. I thought I knew exactly what I wanted, but now I realize . . .” She stopped, unable to say the words.

But something else also concerned her. “Perrin, does it ever bother you that people
know
you?”

“Know me?” He sounded puzzled
. “What do you mean?”

“That people you don’t even know, know who you are. They see you and the uniform and automatically know, ‘That’s Perrin Shin’.”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged in the shadows. “I never thought about it. People have always
known
me. When you’re the only grandson of the High General of Idumea, and then the only son of the next High General, you tend to stick out.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?” she asked earnestly. “Complete strangers may know a lot about you, and you don’t even know their names? Don’t you feel vulnerable?”

He patted his sword next to his side. “I’ve always been armed, even when I was a boy. Long knife at age seven. But I also never felt any danger. Honestly, it never occurred to me.”

That was when Mahrree realized just how courageous—completely and utterly—her husband was, and always had been. He
had
gone into the forest—a few times—and even stayed there to fight men with daggers who tried to kill him. All she faced was a nasty woman with condescending demeanor who tried to hurt her feelings and sense of security.

Oh, how terrifying.

Her insides twisted to remember that she ever thought Perrin to be a coward.

“What’s this all about?” he said gently.

She didn’t deserve his tenderness, and she sighed before saying, “Perrin, I wrote another letter, after that third one.”

“So . . .” he exhaled, “you got another form letter? A fourth to add to your collection?”

“I did, a while ago actually, but I’m not upset about that. To be honest, Perrin, I’m quite glad now. I don’t know what I was thinking, that they would send me a letter back saying, ‘Mrs. Shin, you’re right! How could we have not recognized the wisdom of your words? You are indeed a brilliant woman, and we’re so grateful that you wrote to inform us of our failings!’”

Perrin chuckled, but stopped when he realized she wasn’t being facetious.

“For some reason, Perrin—” although she knew the reason, she wasn’t about to tell him that, “I suddenly feel very vulnerable. Being married to you, I realize now that people
know
me. I doubt they know anything else besides the fact that I’m your wife, but complete strangers
know who I am.
I started thinking about the Administrators and realized, I do NOT want any of them to know me! Why would I want that attention?! What would I say if I were to run into one of them face-to-face? My words might be taken the wrong way!”

She was nearly hysterical, gesturing maniacally with the groo
ming brush.

“My spouting off might actually alarm someone who doesn’t realize I’m
only a little woman in a little village who means nothing! I could cause trouble! I could bring harm to our children! To you! What did I want?!”

Perrin nodded slowly as he drew her close to him.

“I’ll always protect you, Mahrree. You don’t have to worry about that. I’ve kept you safe before, and I always will. I understand that you feel vulnerable, but honestly, no one would recognize you in a crowd.”

“Are you absolutely sure?!”

“Just never stand next to me in a crowd, and I’m sure!”

She remained tense, and he held her tighter.

“Tell you what, here’s how to remain in the shadows where you’re safe. Write no more letters to Idumea—”

She nodded rapidly in agreement, and he smiled in relief.

“Don’t upset Mr. Hegek, although that’s rather difficult since he’s as skittish as a mouse that’s been sighted by Barker—”

She continued nodding.

“And never anger the commander of the fort.”

She sniffed a soft chuckle. “Sounds good,” she said, but oddly, it didn’t. She sat up out of his embrace and wiped her nose as a memory came back to her. It was about a year ago, on her front steps, and she sat there with one of her former students talking about the world.

“What is it now?” Perrin said patiently, realizing that she was still lost in thoughts she wouldn’t share.