Soldier at the Door (30 page)

“But I can create the
illusion
that I can,” Mal smiled thinly. “It’s the perception that matters, not the reality. We
make
the meanings. People believe what they want to believe, what they’re conditioned to see. Already children are being taught the sky is blue and that anything else in it is a passing anomaly that will quickly vanish and the true blueness of the sky will return once more. King Oren was taught that, as were his sons, by one of my
more
brilliant colleagues. Had he not died a few weeks after Oren, he’d be sitting in your chair, proving with me that the citizenry of the world is stupid enough to believe that the sky is always blue, the grass is always green, and it’s a lovely Weeding Season every day. Then we can do whatever we want to, and no one notices.”

Brisack sighed, took up the letter again, and clutched it securely. “But Nicko, she was right. My research
was
flawed. I’ve been thinking about it, and I should go back and look for volunteers—”

             
“NO!” Mal bellowed. “There’s no ROOM for that! And no room for HER! Not in our world! The Shins will not take my power nor dispute my work! Time to eliminate the anomalies!”

There was no reasoning with that adamancy. Brisack could only keep ducking. His back was beginning to ache. “So what are you planning?”

“A massive storm of our own,” Mal said with a thin smile. “One that I control.”

Brisack shook his head slowly. “I told you, keep this to tragedy, and you can continue it for years. But as soon as this evolves into outrage, people
will notice—
”

“There are storms brewing
everywhere
, my good doctor,” Mal said in genial tone.

“What are you talking about?”

“There are rumors that Guarders are infiltrating the villages. So much success recently in the south? Because of inside help!”

“Oh,” Brisack whispered. The next step. He’d likely already taken it. “Are you suggesting—”

“We can’t trust the magistrates and the chief of enforcement, my good doctor. One or two of them may be enemies to our world.”

Brisack suppressed a moan. It was too much, too soon. Too tight a hold on the world. Someone else might balk. “Nicko, the world will not tolerate—”

“The only way to truly secure each village,” Mal continued on with the sturdy determination of an overweight boy laying hold upon every piece of sugared candy in the sweet shop, “is to give the forts complete control over the villages. The few where there are no forts yet, the army will send representatives to help secure their villages.”

The transformation was already taking place. Brisack env
isioned a caterpillar growing into a massively repulsive and sticky creature no one expected, with rows of teeth no one anticipated. “But Nicko, electing their local leaders has
always
been—”

“The people
believe
they knew who they could trust,” Mal plowed on as if no one else was there except for a few cockroaches scuttling around shelving, “but soon they’ll see that they can’t. There are
spies
living among them whose knowledge is so intimate that even entire families could be wiped out with one massive, calculated, Guarder
attack in the north.”

Brisack could only swallow.

“And when the Guarders hit with full force—three villages at the same time targeting specific families—the world will realize how dependent they are upon the Army of Idumea and the Administrators who foresaw such a terrible outcome. Only the Administrators, directing the army, can ensure the sky always remains blue.”

“You still have Wiles’s map of Edge, don’t you?” Brisack whispered. “The one marked with Perrin’s house, his mother-in-law, and his great aunt and uncle?” He clenched Mrs. Shin’s letter prote
ctively in his fist.

“I do,” Mal’s smile transformed into a sneer. “As well as a few other maps. Terrible storm on the horizon, one that none of them will see coming, correct
Doctor? Because, you see, I know where you and your wife live, too.”

“Are you
threatening
me?” Brisack breathed.

“No,” Mal chuckled humorlessly. “
I
wouldn’t do such things. But Gadiman would.”

Brisack closed his eyes and nodded once, his thumb caressing the letter. He knew this time he couldn’t send a warning to its author, unlike over a year ago. Indeed, now he felt to be in more danger than the Shins.

“Don’t be so worried, my good doctor!” Mal said in a sickly sing-song voice. “If Shin is as skilled a commander as you suppose he is, all will be well in Edge! And if he isn’t, then you’ll have a great deal to analyze about how people deal with extreme grief.”

“But if all of the Shins are dead,” Brisack whispered, his eyes still shut, “who will grieve them?”

The doctor heard the smile in Mal’s voice. “Besides you? Why, the High General and his wife, of course! I’ve always wanted to watch an alpha wolf crumble.”

Brisack’s eyes flashed open.

“I do believe this is one of my most brilliant plans. We’ll be sorting information for
years
. . .”

---

A week before Peto’s first birthday, on the 84
th
Day of Planting Season 322, Mahrree went back to Mr. Hegek with her list in hand. He appreciatively studied it.

“This is a bit different than the shortened version they sent to the teachers, Mrs. Shin. I read through that thoroughly—”

His tone suggested someone who was hoping to appear as responsible as possible for someone of such small stature burdened by the Administrator of Education to carry the entire weight of the Department of Instruction. Just the titles alone were exhausting.

“—but some of these future changes aren’t in there. I wonder why . . .”

His voice trailed off as he sat behind his desk. He put her paper down on an untidy stack and tapped the list. “Hmmm.”

Mahrree didn’t have to see her notes to know what part he’d reached.

“No need for debating? I can see how it would save time, but still,” he looked up to her, “seems kind of a let-down, doesn’t it?”

Her faith in the little man began to increase.

“I think my favorite debate in school was about who created Nature’s Laws, and why.” Mr. Hegek got a faraway look in his eyes. “True, we got a little bit silly at times. One of my friends nearly had the class convinced it was our teacher who devised them, and she created the law, ‘All things want to be on the ground’ to keep us in our seats. She said she would’ve rewritten it more powerfully to keep us flat on the ground!” He chuckled at the memory. “But even so, it really got me thinking about forces and who’s in charge.”

A smile grew on his face.

Mahrree felt one reluctantly growing on her face, too. The man wasn’t as bad as she hoped he’d be. Despite all her effort not to, she almost felt some compassion for him.

“You know, Mrs. Shin, these are only guidelines—not manda
ted, yet. I know they’re trying to be progressive, but for now do you think Captain Shin would have a problem if we continued allowing debates?”

Mahrree was a mixture of relief and confusion. “I think contin
uing the debates is a wonderful idea! As long as you still cover everything on that
test
,” irritation snuck into her tone. “And Captain Shin was a great debater himself, but why would his approval be needed?”

The director’s face went from pleased to looking as if he’d acc
identally uttered a very nasty word. “It’s only that he’s the
authority
here and—”

“Captain Shin’s the authority?” Mahrree chuckled. “Mr. Hegek, I thought
you
were. And the authority for the village is the elected magistrate. Captain Shin merely keeps the Guarders away, and he’s done that quite admirably.”

The director chewed nervously on his lower lip. “I see, Mrs. Shin. Of course.”

He sat up and straightened some papers which only disrupted several stacks in front of him.

“And I’ve heard about your After School Care program,” he said brightly, changing the subject. “I’m suggesting to the Depar
tment of Instruction that they consider implementing similar programs.”

“I already have, many weeks ago,” Mahrree sighed. “I received form letter number two. But maybe you’ll have better luck, since you’re the director of schools here. I’ve sent two more letters
merely to see if anyone bothers to read them. Chances are I’ll only collect more forms. People in Idumea don’t care about the opinions of little women in tiny villages like Edge.”

---

Perrin came home much later than expected that night. Mahrree panicked briefly before remembering that he’d send Shem or another messenger should anything drag him away for an extended time again.

Jaytsy waited impatiently by the door calling for “Fodder!” and Peto dragged his at-home boots around the gathering room in antic
ipation.

When Perrin did finally come home, he greeted his little ones with a grim expression. “Mahrree,” he called to her in the kitchen where he heard her washing up. “There have been some changes . . .”

“Does it have anything to do with you being the ‘authority’ in Edge?” Mahrree called back casually.

His mouth dropped open. “How did you know?”

“They should have told you before they told the director of schools!” She came out of the kitchen with a plateful of food, grinning.

But he didn’t return it.

That’s when Mahrree felt a cold heaviness in the house. It was if Perrin brought it with him as a wave and it just now hit her, dark and menacing, as she clumsily put his dinner on the table.

“Perrin, what’s wrong?”

He sat down at the table and couldn’t seem to get comfortable.

“Did you,
at all
, tell
anyone
about our discussion the other night?” his voice became very low and terrifyingly serious. “About your theories as to why the Administrators would not want debates? Or why they wrote the documents as they did? Anything to Zenos? Your mother? Other teachers?”

“Of course not!” Mahrree whispered. She looked around, but wasn’t sure why. She thought briefly about her last letters, but couldn’t see how there was anything dangerous in those.

Annoying, possibly. But dangerous?

“Perrin, what’s going on?”

He absent-mindedly picked up Jaytsy who tried to get his attention by blowing on his face. “An edict came this morning from Idumea stating that all villages that don’t yet have a fort will have one built in the next two seasons. I’m supposed to send temporary reinforcements to Moorland immediately. There are eleven forts so far, but each village is now required to have one.”

He paused.

“So . . . ?” Mahrree tried to draw him on, wondering why more forts was so troubling.  In some areas the Guarder activity had increased significantly. On the south side of the world there were weekly incursions and murders of citizens.

He pursed his lips before continuing. “Each fort is to have a commanding officer that will not only supervise the soldiers,
but also
act as the eyes, ears, and voice of the Administrators.” He looked solemnly at Mahrree to see if she understood.

“Eyes, ears, and voice?” she whimpered, remember how
only last week Perrin said the Administrators didn’t have any eyes or ears in their house.

Maybe, maybe
not.

“The local magistrates will now be accountable to the co
mmander of the forts,” he continued tonelessly, “and all legal and criminal issues will be ultimately under the commander’s jurisdiction.”

Each of his words fell like cold buckets of water in the house. Even Jaytsy sat quietly now in his lap, and Peto stopped dragging his father’s boots.

“The commander of the fort will now be, essentially,
in charge of the village as well?
” Mahrree asked incredulously. She felt like she was beginning to drown.

“In a sense, yes,” Perrin said darkly. “The magistrate still does his job, so does local law enforcement, but the commander can ove
rride their decisions. And if the Administrators demand it—or the commander sees a need—he can take control of any situation, and require any kind of action. To the extent of a
complete
army takeover,” he said slowly.

Mahrree tried to comprehend the magnitude of that phrase. She wasn’t sure what it meant, except that the issue of debating suddenly seemed trifling.

“And the commander of the fort of Edge . . .” she began, hoping the rest of that sentence would not be,
is Captain Shin.
It seemed too much authority for a lowly captain.

“Must hold at least the rank of major.”

“Ah,” Mahrree said, feeling a little bit of breathing room.