Soldier at the Door (24 page)

“Nothing,” she sighed, dropping several pieces of beef into the
pot. “I suppose the Department of Instruction is swamped by letters. Can’t read all of them in a timely manner.”

“Yes,” he said, trying to keep the relief out of his voice, “most likely.”

“Not as if I’d have time to do my study right now anyway,” she sighed again. “But I really was looking forward to trying.”

“You’re already doing it, in a way,” he pointed out. “Just keep notes of what you’re doing with the boys, especially when you tutor them in their lessons, then record the results. That they scored higher than the rest of their class already suggests that teaching at home has potential.”

She shrugged. “But that’s only a small part of what I was hoping to test. To do this right, I really need to—”

“Not add yet
another
project,” he said firmly. “Mahrree, it’s enough. And don’t worry about schooling just yet. We have plenty of time still. Jaytsy’s not even two yet.”

“I know, I know,” she admitted as she stirred the pot. “But r
ecently I realized how quickly time rushes by. Do you realize that in a few weeks it will have been a whole year since you had Gizzada go shopping for a white coat?”

The long scar on his back itched to remind him. “I see what this is all about,” he said gravely.

She cocked her head in questioning.

“You want a white rabbit fur coat, don’t you? A little jealous of how
lovely
I must have looked?”

She snorted and laughed. “No, not at all! When I’m feeling down, I imagine you in it quite vividly and I’m cheered up for hours. No, it really
is
that time’s going by so quickly. Peto pulled himself up today! Well, not for long. But he’s only seven moons old.”

“I wondered where the new bruise on his forehead came from,” Perrin said, kissing it lightly.

“Before we know it, Jaytsy
will
be six years old and trudging off to school. I feel like I’m running out of time.”

“I sometimes feel it, too,” he confessed. “But more like a
sense of change
in the air. As if things will be shifting soon, somehow.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” she cringed. “It’s not the coming of Plan
ting Season already, so what we’re feeling is probably a warning from the Creator.”

“You know, most people would be
grateful
to receive warnings from the Creator.”

Mahrree shrugged guiltily. “I am. It’s just that I worry what it portends.”

He nodded slowly. “Me, too. We have to make sure that—”

A crash in the gathering room made both of them wince.

“I can fix it!” Sareen called in a frantic giggle.

“I didn’t realize we had anything left to break,” Perrin said, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Give it a few more weeks,” Mahrree said. “We may be surprised what can still break.”

After five more weeks, anything else that could possibly break did. Which made their lives much easier, now that they didn’t have to worry about preserving anything intact. Even so, each time Perrin came home he’d warily open the door, bracing himself for just about anything.

And on the days that Zenos was in charge, that ‘anything’ could be truly nerve-wracking when the cold snows and icy rains of Raining Season forced them all inside. But Teeria always showed up early those days to sit on the stairs and watch with adoring eyes the large, handsome young private who easily held the enthralled attention of all ten boys.

And at the end of those days, Private Zenos would shyly tip his blue cap at her and Sareen, and say, “Good evening, ladies.” Then he’d rush out the door, much to the girls’ weekly disappointment.

“Captain Shin,” Teeria bravely approached him one afternoon, “can’t you
order
him or something?”

Perrin folded his arms across his chest. “Order who to do what?”

Teeria gestured to the retreating jacket of Private Zenos, who was out the door in a flash. “Him! To
talk
or something!”

“What kind of
something
are you hoping for?” Perrin asked slyly.

Teeria turned bright red and mumbled, “Never mind,” as she stormed off to the kitchen to help start dinner.

One night, Perrin noticed when he arrived home as the boys were leaving, Teeria didn’t even try talking to Shem, but was banging some pots noisily in the kitchen.

So instead Sareen was giving it a worthy go as Shem gathered the arrows and bows he had brought to introduce the boys to archery.
Next week Mahrree would bring them up to the indoor training arena at the fort, and four more soldiers would help Shem supervise the boys’ first attempts at shooting arrows.

Actually, Perrin realized as he looked around his gathering room,
today
was their first attempts, if the three arrows lodged in the oak ceiling were any sign. 

“I mean, what’s it
like
, riding along the forest’s edge, never knowing when someone could pop out at you with a dagger?” Sareen giggled at Zenos who was crouched on the ground putting the arrows back into the quiver. The seventeen year-old hovered over the soldier like an eager bee waiting for Planting Season.

“Just . . . nothing much,” Zenos said, shrugging. He glanced up and regarded his commander with a combination of relief and dread in his eyes. “Sorry about that, sir,” he gestured to the ceiling.

Perrin stared at the odd sight of the fletching of an arrow just at his eye level. His gaze followed the shaft that went straight up into a timber.

“Remarkable that it’s my ceilings that suffer the most when
it’s Zenos Day.” He yanked the arrow out, pursed his lips, and looked down at his cringing private.

“The boys—they get a little over-eager,” Zenos explained an
xiously as he took the arrow out of the captain’s hand. “Mrs. Shin stepped out of the room to try to put Peto down for a nap, and since the wind was blowing quite fiercely today . . . I suppose it wasn’t the best idea to bring these
in
to the house.”

Perrin winked forgivingly at him. “That’s all right. It’ll look like some more knotholes once I pull them out.”

“Like the doors, sir? Can hardly tell, can you?” he asked hopefully. If he noticed Sareen so close to his side that she was practically crawling into his uniform, he gave no indication.

Perrin’s eyebrow arched. “Just
how many
went into the doors, Zenos?” He looked around.

Zenos snatched up the two bows on the ground. “I’m on duty in an hour, sir. Best get up to the fort for dinner—”

“You could stay here!” Sareen offered. “Eat with us!”

Perrin blinked at that. The girls never stayed to eat. That was probably why Sareen was avoiding his questioning glare.

“Have to get my sword,” Zenos said without looking at Sareen. “At least I’m wise enough not to wear
that
down here. Mrs. Shin?” Zenos looked past his ardent admirer and called to the kitchen, “I’ll be leaving now. Again, sorry about the arrows.”

Mahrree poked her head around the kitchen door. “You know my philosophy: if there’s no bloodshed—well, at least not a lot—then it was another successful day. Thank you, Shem!”

“Good-bye, ladies,” Zenos said, still not looking directly at Sareen.

A loud scoffing sound came from Teeria the kitchen, and Sareen gripped Zeno’s arm. “Good-bye, Private. Or may I call you
Shem
?”

Perrin held open the door for his private as Zenos’s ears turned pink. Without another word he charged out of the house, and Perrin shut the door behind him before Sareen could follow.

Sareen smiled in triumph. “I get to call him Shem!” She grinned and set off to tidy the gathering room.

Perrin shook his head. “I’ve got a lot to learn about teenage girls before Jaytsy becomes one,” he whispered to himself as he made his way over to the eating room table. A folded piece of parchment caught his eye. Before he could pick it up, Mahrree came through the door.

“Look what finally came!” she beamed as she unfolded it. “Dated three days ago, the 49
th
Day of Raining Season, and all the way from Idumea!”

Perrin held his breath as he took the letter from her hands. A moment later he sighed in relief.

“Isn’t it wonderful? They’re going to consider my proposal! ‘We will look into your issue and respond as we see fit’.”

He folded the letter again and handed it back to her. “And you’re responding precisely in the manner they want you to: belie
ving they really care. This is form letter number one, Mahrree. I’m sorry. A senior letter skimmer read your message, and a junior letter skimmer filled out this reply. If you look at the style of handwriting for your name, then the body of the response, you’ll see that they don’t match. They have stacks of these letters, waiting for the names to be filled in.”

“Oh,” was all she quietly said, and Perrin felt a stab of regret for her disappointment. But it was safer this way, it really was.

It took her only a moment to recover. “I’m going to send another letter,” she decided. “Telling them all about After School Care, and how other villages could benefit by having homes set up for children to have a place to go when their parents are still working.”

Perrin shrugged. “Maybe you’ll get form letter number two to add to the collection.”

“Your faith in me is overwhelming,” she said, her voice heavy with discouragement.

He put his arms around her. “We still have plenty of time. And Mahrree, honestly I feel much safer with your failures than your su
ccesses.”

He didn’t add,
because I suspect you may be the most dangerous woman in the world
.

---

Barker was waiting that night. He watched the movements along the alley with drooling expectancy until finally the man in the black jacket appeared with the bacon. Barker leapt to his feet and trotted happily to the fence.

“Well done, well done,” the man whispered, giving Barker the bacons strips. “Tonight, something new,” he said as he scratched the dog’s head. He patted his chest. “Up, up, up.”

Barker hesitated, remembering how often he received a knee in his chest for jumping up on the captain and his wife.

Another slice of bacon appeared, held up high by the man.

There was only one way for Barker to get it. He slowly reared up on his hind legs and reached over the fence, his big front paws landing on the man’s chest.

“Up, up, up. Well done, well done.”

-
--

Two men sat in a dark room of an unlit building.

“Mrs. Shin must have fired this one off the day after she r
eceived form letter number one,” Brisack chuckled as he waved the parchment. “Had a taste of ‘success,’ so she wants more?”

“Perhaps,” Mal tipped his head. “Or maybe she was told by the captain that she didn’t get a personalized response.”

“Maybe,” Brisack said, reading the letter again. “Or maybe her husband doesn’t even know she’s sending letters.”

“You think she’s acting
secretly?
” Mal made a face, obviously never before entertaining the thought.

“A woman acting behind her husband’s back? What an unusual development!” Brisack barked a laugh.

Mal’s expression remained unchanged.

“I know you never married,” Brisack smirked, “but did you ever have a sister?”

“No.”

“Mother?”

“Died when I was four.”

“Aunt? Cousin? Grandmother?”

“No.”

“Girlfriend?!”

“Once. She was too silly.”

“I see,” Brisack nodded slowly. “That explains your complete lack of knowledge of women. All these ye
ars you’ve assumed they are merely watered-down, washed-out versions of men, haven’t you?”

“Are you trying to make a point, Doctor?” Mal clasped his hands impatiently.

“Yes,” Brisack couldn’t help but chuckle, “but not one I think you’ll ever understand!”

Mal glared. “So you’re suggesting that perhaps Mrs. Shin is sending letters without her husband’s knowledge.”

“It’s a possibility,” Brisack acknowledged. “She may think someone’s taking her suggestion seriously.”

“And that’s the wonderful irony, isn’t it?” Mal’s lips formed the slightest smile. “We
are
taking her seriously, just not in a way she expects.”

“Then again, maybe she
does
know it’s a form letter,” Brisack suggested. “Maybe the captain
did
see it and tell her. So maybe this is a test of her own. Oh, how wonderful! And to think, just a short time ago was getting bored with all of this. She’s making it interesting again.”