Soldier at the Door (19 page)

“And a good balance for his exuberance, I would think. Teeria would be a good match for such an excellent young man.”

Excellent young man.

Everyone thinks that, Perrin thought to himself.

So why wouldn’t the doubting voice leave him alone?

Chapter 6 ~ “We’re
trying
to make a good impression!”

L
eaving the house two days later happened in starts and stops. Mahrree had hoped for an early snow to cancel their plans, but the late Harvest day was sunny and the cold was tolerable. Before they left, Mahrree had to kiss her babies.

Then kiss them again.

Then check their cloths which she had just changed.

Then remind Shem, for the fourth time, all about feeding them if they should return late.

Then she was about to do something else that no one would ever know about, because that’s when Perrin finally picked her up and hefted her over his shoulder like a bag of grain. He carried her to the open wagon he borrowed from the fort while Jaytsy happily waved and called “Bye-bye” to “Ma” and “Dog!” from the door. Shem held Peto, who didn’t even notice her leaving. He was too busy poking Shem’s face to make him say “Ow!” in silly ways.

Perrin plopped his wife on the front bench of the wagon.

“Stay!” he commanded in the same voice he used on the dog, and she sat there obediently, albeit grumpily. He never took his eyes off her, as if she might bolt if he did, and he climbed in next to her and slapped the reins on the horses. Soon they were off towards the south end of the village to see what all the new house excitement was about. Mahrree was sure she could hear her babies crying in the distance, but Perrin refused to turn around.

“This will be good for you, I promise.”

“How?” Mahrree asked miserably.

“I’m not sure yet, either,” he said, fighting the urge to glance behind him.

Mahrree noticed. Her husband was always slightly paranoid; it was part of his job. Maybe he was concerned about Guarders visiting his home when he wasn’t there.

“The private—I mean,
Shem
—didn’t wear his sword,” she massaged her hands. “And he won’t know where yours is hidden.”

Perrin patted the long knife secured in his waistband under his brown leather jacket. “I’m sure he has his long knife somewhere on him. And I showed him where the other knife is in the secret drawer of the eating table.” He began to smile. “Then Zenos put on that overly-grave expression of his and said, ‘Sir, I don’t believe in le
tting children play with knives.’”

Mahrree couldn’t help but chuckle. “He’ll be all right with them, won’t he?”

Perrin shrugged and nodded at the same time. “Said he has more experience with children than I do. That might be true, depending on how much he watched his nieces. I suppose our two most important possessions are safe. He’s becoming quite skilled with the sword. Nearly bested me the other day in practice. I’ll have to sharpen up a bit.”

Mahrree sighed. “It’s not that I don’t trust Shem, but I feel like I’ve abandoned our babies.”

“Maybe we can remember what it was like when we were courting,” Perrin suggested.

“Courting? We never courted properly!” Mahrree reminded him. “We debated until you got tired of losing to me, then you showed up on my doorstep when you got tired of missing me. Now we’re both just tired!”

Perrin smiled and wrapped his arm around her. “Now
this
is something I haven’t been able to do for awhile without someone small becoming jealous.”

It took her some time, but eventually Mahrree agreed that it was pleasant to look up and around her for once, instead of always down and into someone’s changing cloths. As the horses trotted through the villa
ge, she and Perrin realized how much they’d been missing. Poe wasn’t the only young man in fancy clothes. Scattered here and there were other people in ‘outfits’ in vibrant colors and extravagant textures. Mahrree had seen some people dressed up at the market in the late morning, but now in the afternoon there seemed to be even more examples of impractical clothing.

Then again, she was never one to pay attention to what people wore. It didn’t seem worth noting, unless someone wasn’t wearing anything at all.

When they passed a man in bright purple suit coat and trousers, Mahrree nudged Perrin. “Do you think you’re a purple man?”

Perrin glanced down at his rough cotton brown trousers and his comfortably worn leather jacket. “Do I
look
like a purple man? I didn’t even know that was a color you could wear! Maybe they think that’s ‘progress,’ but I certainly don’t. No, I don’t want to worry about mussing up my ‘outfits.’ And I like knowing exactly where my clothing came from. Did you hear that silk is worm vomit?”

Mahrree curled her lip and gave him a withering sidelong glance. “First, that purple suit wasn’t silk. It looked more like wo
rsted wool. And second, I doubt silk is worm vomit! How do these stories get started, anyway?”

He grinned. “That’s how I explained the origination of the silk cocoons to Poe. He confided to me that he was worried about where his shirt was
really
from. His friends kept telling him it was bug droppings. He was rather pleased to hear it came from the
other
end.”

Perrin glanced down at her plain woolen gray skirt.

“So, tell me,” he started slowly, “are you at all interested in silk? I couldn’t help but notice you admiring Mrs. Hili’s dress. That really was something, I suppose.”

Mahrree thought about that. “Yes, it was
something
. But not something I think I could see myself in. The fabric feels like thin water. I touched Poe’s collar to see. But if I don’t feel comfortable feeding a baby or gathering eggs in it, I don’t think I’d enjoy it.”

They travelled past the more expensive shops where they never bothered to go before. Mahrree saw more odd colors in clothing—even orange—and she wondered how many carrots and pumpkins were sacrificed for the dye. Maybe that’s why they weren’t having the catapults. The eggplants were needed for men’s purple suits.

Of course her mother would correct that notion and tell her something ridiculous, such as the purple dye came from boiling seashells or something.

Finally Mahrree said aloud, “I wonder how much the silk costs?”

“About a week’s salary for some of the fancier dresses,” Perrin said casually.

“That’s madness!” she decided. She turned sharply to her hu
sband. “And how would
you
know that, Mr. I-think-silk-is-bug-droppings?”

“Worm vomit. I said ‘worm vomit.’”

“Still, how did you know?”

“I was just checking, in case you . . . I don’t know. Felt like you needed something,” he hedged. “We’re not rich, but the army pays enough, and we do have some stashed away in the cellar, and we’re not exactly poor people, and . . .” Perrin didn’t know where to end his rambling.

Mahrree was suddenly very aware of the green pea smudges on her faded tan tunic, and pulled her cloak around her tighter to hide them. “Perrin, do you think I need a dress like that?”

“I don’t really know what you need,” he admitted uncomfort
ably, “but I want you to have something nice, something that you’d like. You could choose something today, if you wish.”

She saw the damp spot on her skirt. She stopped trying to ident
ify damp spots when Jaytsy was only a week old.

“Do you want me to look like Mrs. Hili? I mean, I know I don’t look exactly like I used to. I think I know what ‘frumpy’ means now, but I can change that. If you wish,” she added lamely.

Perrin was quiet before he shook his head and chuckled. “Do you know what this conversation reminds me of? How awkward we were when we ran into each other the first time in the market, and we flattened your bread between us. Remember? But Mahrree, I learned to tell you exactly what I think. And so here it is: No, wife. I
definitely
don’t want you to look like Mrs. Hili.”

She turned and kissed his shoulder.

“She’s far too heavy,” he added. “I could never pick her up without straining something vital.”

Mahrree laughed. “You’re terrible, Perrin!”

Perrin grinned. “Maybe dresses for you would be cheaper, since you’d require only half the cloth.”

“Now, stop! You’re just being rude.”

His mouth dropped open. “And she wasn’t rude to us? Did you hear how she was talking to us the other night about the children? Or were you really taking a nap there on the front porch?”

Mahrree shrugged wearily. She really didn’t want to revisit that
conversation.

Perrin continued. “Now, my wife, do you want to see me in purple? Or orange? Or—” he offered a fake shudder, “—pink? B
ecause
for you
, my wife, I would wear it,” his voice was full of sarcastic solemnity. “I will wear pink worm vomit for you.”

Mahrree was laughing so hard she couldn’t answer.

“Right over there,” he suggested as the horses trotted past a new shop with striped suits displayed in thin, clear windows. “On the way home, just for you. We’ll stop and you can outfit me however you wish.”

Mahrree finally recovered enough to protest. “If you wear pink bug droppings or worm vomit or whatever it is, I’ll find me another man in uniform! Please, please, don’t do it. What would be next, men in skirts? Women in trousers? No, keep your leather and your cotton. All traditional and safe sources of clothing. I’m really not that progressive!”

The rest of the way to the new houses they shamelessly laughed at ‘outfits’ they passed. They nearly fell off the carriage when a man emerged from a shop with a hat nearly as tall as his head. They were still giggling uncontrollably like children—or two adults who hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in well over a year—when they pulled up to the new houses.

Nothing here was humorous as they took in the peculiar scene before them.

A small tidy shed with the word “Office” painted neatly above the door sat near the entrance of a wide road which led to several homes under construction.

While the house shapes varied slightly one from the other, the overall effect was to suggest that a giant artist had been making very proper and precise—yet wholly unimaginative—blocks of gray. And because Mrs. Giant didn’t like them, he decided to drop his eno
rmously dull sculptures on the world at exactly the same distance apart.

None of the gardens around the houses were completed, revea
ling the sandy-gray colored soil, but several borders were edged in more gray symmetrical blocks. The new neighborhood gave one the impression that all colors had run out when the Creator came to this part of Edge.

A painting on a large sign showed what the future of the co
mmunity could be: lush flower beds, different kinds of roofs, and even some houses painted in different colors. But no amount of embellishment could cover the sameness of the designs.

“Just like Idumea,” Perrin muttered in disappointment. “I pro
mise you, I do NOT want that.”

“I agree,” Mahrree whispered. “Let’s drive on.”

But before they could, the door of the small shed flew open and a woman in a black and white bustled out.

Mahrree and Perrin tried their hardest not to, but still they burst out laughing, not at her shimmering dress which, in a blur, would also be gray, but at the enormous hat with a huge feather standing on the top of it which must have been plucked from the largest, ugliest bird in the world.

Desperately trying to regain control of herself as the woman huffed angrily up to their wagon, Mahrree covered her mouth and pinched Perrin hard, causing him to slip a bit off his seat. Almost immediately Perrin plastered a completely somber look on his face. It was one of those times Mahrree was envious of his training.

The woman marched up to them and demanded, “What’s the meaning of all this noise!” Her feather bobbled alarmingly as she practiced her best I’m-as-angry-as-an-ugly-bird impersonation. “I’ll have you know we are expecting someone very important, and you must move this, this
excuse
of a wagon immediately!”

Perrin was the very model of composure. “Absolutely ma’am. I’m very sorry to have disturbed you. We were only wishing to drive past your
lovely
homes here.”

Mahrree kept her hand over her mouth. The woman’s feather waved unpredictably even though she had stopped moving, and Mahrree felt spasms of laughter fighting in her chest.

Perrin nodded to her head. “Incidentally, ma’am, a bird of some rather large and aggressive species seems to have impaled your hat. You may want to look into it.”

Mahrree would never admit to snorting in her entire life. But t
oday not only did her husband and the black and white woman hear her, so did half a dozen workers dutifully stacking gray blocks on top of more gray blocks at a nearby house. Several actually stopped working and turned to stare at the noise that originated loudly from Mahrree’s nose.

Perrin took his convulsing wife’s head and pushed it firmly
down to her knees. She gratefully took the suffocation in her skirt.

“You’ll please excuse my wife. She hasn’t been well lately. That’s why I’ve taken her out to get some fresh air. Obviously she still needs some more.”