Soldier at the Door (4 page)

“Most women already are, Doctor,” Mal intoned lazily. “You’re just too prejudiced to notice.”

“Well, we’ll have far fewer challenges once all the midwives in the world understand,” Brisack ignored the accusation, “and can make the women they treat realize that they’re under the duress of their conditions. The Drink certainly is the only—and best—course of action. That’s why I spend so much time perfecting it years ago.”

“No need to convince me of anything, Doctor.” Mal spat out his hangnail. “It sounds like
you’re
the one wrestling with a prick of conscience.”

“I’m not!” Brisack declared. “I truly feel this is the best. And now every woman in the world can understand why, too.”

“Except for that midwife,” Mal sniggered.

Brisack went pale. “What do you mean,
that midwife
?”

“She’s missing,” Mal said dismissively, picking up some pages to signal he was ready to move on to another subject.

“No!” Brisack gasped. “Gadiman?”

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters! You promised me nothing would happen to her!”

Mal shrugged easily. “I really don’t know what happened. I just received a note from Gadiman saying that when he went for another interrogation, she was gone.”

“You don’t know what your weasel did with her?!” Brisack bellowed.

“She may have left on her own,” Mal said, unruffled. “Hiding somewhere. That would be the most sensible, wouldn’t you think?”

“She did nothing wrong!” Brisack protested. “She was only was wondering. Since when do we punish for that?”

“She wasn’t punished, Doctor. At least, I don’t
think
she was,” Mal said, unconcerned. “What does it matter, anyway? Just another woman. The world is crawling with them. They’re inconsequential beyond their ability to entertain men and birth another generation. And maybe bake a pie.”

“And people wonder that you never married,” marveled Brisack.

-
--

              The forest grumbled and belched and trembled. The trees masked bottomless chasms that stank of sulfur, fountains of scalding hot water that shot into the air, and seemingly innocent patches of bubbling mud that burned. The forest was known to devour animals, people, and—the stories said—hope.

             
The midwife should have been terrified to be there, but she wasn’t. In fact, for the first time in far too long, she felt safe as she picked her way through the dense foliage.

             
She’d been too vocal in Idumea—she knew that, and would have to explain herself. But if she could do the math, anyone could.

Their population was dying, albeit slowly.

That could be fixed by allowing the request of a very few parents. But her ideas proposal had garnered the attention of Administrator Gadiman himself, the biggest mistake she could have committed. 

Keep a low profile and your name quiet. Make no lasting co
nnections. Avoid drawing attention to yourself—

But she
had
to try. And now, fear of that weasely man had sent her running.

             
Home.

Chapter
2 ~ “My wife, you are insane.”

“
C
aptain, do you have a moment?” Karna asked through the partially opened office door. “Zenos made contact again.”

Perrin quickly snatched up his quill and grabbed a clean piece of paper. “Of course! Send him in!”

Zenos came in, dressed in regular work clothes and wearing an eager grin. “Saw him again, sir! Just before the eastern canals.”

“I pulled back the patrols when I realized Zenos was talking to someone in the trees,” Karna explained. “I should get back out there—”

“Certainly,” Shin gestured to him, “Go, go! See if we have any other confused Guarders out there.”

Karna grinned, winked at their volunteer, and bounded back down the stairs.

“Sit, Zenos,” Shin told him as he dipped his quill into the ink bottle. “Tell me everything he said, no matter how bizarre. He still thinks you’re some farmer’s son?”

“Yes, sir. I was strolling at the edges of the fields they just planted, hoping to catch sight of him again. Since I’m not in a un
iform—”

“—is precisely why I recommended some changes last year,” Shin grumbled. “We could learn so much more if we weren’t so o
bvious! But the Command Board . . . well, never mind. So Zenos, what did he say?”

“He was a bit more coherent this time,” Zenos explained, “I think because I fed him, first.” He winced in apology. “I’d taken an extra beef sandwich from midday meal and had it in my pocket in case I g
ot hungry, and . . . well, the Guarder seemed half-starved . . .”

The captain shook his head. “I have no problem with you fee
ding him, Zenos. It’s a sandwich well spent. If he sees you as a provider, he’ll become more comfortable with you and perhaps reveal what’s going on.”

Zenos’s face relaxed in relief. “I was hoping you’d feel that way, sir! I kind of already told him I could give him more tomorrow at the same time.”

Shin smiled. “Well, bring more than a sandwich. It’s a proven fact that the people will follow whoever will feed them. I’m hoping he’ll eventually follow you all the way to this office.”

Zenos shrugged. “I’m not sure I’m that skilled yet, sir.”

“If you joined up officially, I could train you,” the captain hinted. “I need men like you.”

“Thank you, sir. I know,” Zenos shrugged again, looking down at his hands in bashfulness. “It’s just that . . .”

Captain Shin sat back to analyze his volunteer of three weeks. Zenos often demurred like that, as if intimidated by himself. But he was far more naturally skilled than any soldier Perrin had met. And so far there had been no responses to the inquiries about a missing younger-than-legal boy. Nor had there been any reports about a girl looking for her run-off boyfriend.

The boy
was
as innocent as his face, which didn’t even have the decency to sprout any pimples. Perrin saw Zenos in the market place a few days ago grinning at the sellers, and receiving many shy and hopeful smiles from Mahrree’s former students, but he was so naive he didn’t even notice them.

The boy was simply
so
pure
.

Perrin would snag him, eventually. He just needed the right lure. But in the meantime—

He picked up his quill and poised it over the paper. “So Zenos—your report?”

Zenos quickly looked up from his hands and he sat back at a
ttention.

He even did
that
better than most soldiers.

“Sorry—yes, sir. At first he told me we were planting our corn all wrong.”

Perrin’s quill hesitated over the paper. “He what?”

Zenos nodded. “He’d been watching the farmer the other day, and said we should be planting the corn in small hills instead, with a
cut up fish to nourish the plants. Much greater yields than planting the corn in rows.”

Shin put down the quill, perplexed. “Why would he be co
ncerned about our plantings?”

“I thought it was an interesting idea,” Zenos offered. “Maybe the Guarders know something about improving crops?”

“Why would they? Or, maybe he’s planning to steal those crops in Harvest Season, and thinks it’s easier to hide in the small hills rather than rows?”

Zenos pondered that. “Probably right, sir. Still, would be inte
resting to try, don’t you think? At a farm away from the forests, to see if he’s right?”

Perrin growled quietly. “I’m not accustomed to taking agricu
ltural tips from our enemies. What else did he say?”

Zenos cleared his throat. “Well, this won’t be too helpful either, then. But maybe . . . uh, he said that improving yields are crucial to feeding the population. We have lots of fallow land, and even small gardens could be used for vegetables and fruit trees.”

“Our population is fed just fine,” Perrin squinted. “We’re at a stable and maintainable rate, we never have a lack, especially since the crop controls were established. He’s interested in our population rates?”

“Maybe because they need our food?” Zenos suggested. “He said that their women have so many children now—”

Perrin pointed at him. “They
are
looking to raid our crops. Very good, Zenos. Now we know to keep our farms more carefully guarded, especially once Harvest comes around.” He quickly scrawled down some notes.

Zenos smiled to have been some use.

“I’m curious,” Perrin paused, tapping his quill on the ink jar, “Just how many children? Did he say?”

Zenos nodded. “Well, in the middle of his rambling he said there was a woman who recently had her fifteenth child—”

Perrin’s mouth dropped open.

“—then he said something about most of them have smaller families, averaging about six or seven children. Then he started on about something with teaching chickens to fly—”

But Shin was shaking his head slowly. “A ‘small’ family is six or seven children? Unbelievable. Likely have so many to replace their population. I can only imagine how many of their people die each year. Fourteen here just last year.”

Zenos nodded soberly. “Yes, I’ve heard all about that, sir, from some of
the men. Makes my back itch to think about it.”

Shin chuckled.

“I also started thinking, sir,” the young volunteer began hesitantly, “you’re a father, and seem to be a devoted one at that—if you could have more than two children, would you? Considering that it seems apparent Guarder women still have so many—”

Perrin stiffened. “Do you know the name of Gadiman, Zenos?” the captain asked brusquely.

Zenos blinked rapidly at the captain’s abrupt change in tone. “Uh, sounds vaguely familiar.”

“Perhaps you’re more familiar with his title: Administrator of Loyalty?”

Zenos gulped. “Ah, yes sir.
That
Gadiman.”

“Would you like to meet the Administrator of Loyalty, Zenos?” Shin’s tone was cold as death.

Zenos gulped again. “No, sir?”

“That’s right—you don’t. But asking such kinds of questions will earn you a one-way journey to Idumea and an extended discu
ssion with Gadiman. To answer your questions, Zenos: no, I’ve never considered the thought of having more than two children. That is the law of the land, and I’ve sworn to uphold it. Querul the First recognized that our population couldn’t exceed one million people, or we’d run into the same divisions and shortages we suffered under the Great War in 200—”

“I know all about that, sir,” Zenos tried diplomatically to cut him off.

“If you did, you wouldn’t need a history refresher right now!” Shin snapped. “After the war, Querul told families to maintain only a replacement population, that women should birth only two children. When his son Querul the Second took over, he enforced that law ruthlessly. While the First turned a blind eye to the occasional woman who had three or even four, his son made sure that any woman expecting a third time never birthed that baby.
If
she survived the soldiers and their brutality, she certainly could never conceive again!”

Zenos swallowed hard, but the captain wasn’t finished yet.

“Fifty years ago The Drink was developed to ensure no accidental violations of the law occurred, preventing women from having more children after the second. Not only has it kept our population in balance, it has preserved women from the difficulties of expecting. I’ve seen it twice, Zenos, first-hand. It’s an enormous sacrifice, and nothing a woman should have to endure too often!”

If the captain thought his lecture would scare the large young man into silence, he was mistaken.

“Sir, I know the sacrifices,” Zenos said gravely. “My older sister has two daughters. I saw her suffer. I also saw her joy when she held those newborns, and how much she adores her girls now. I know for a fact that she’s said the pain and suffering were nothing compared to becoming a mother. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful to the laws, I merely wondered if you had ever considered that maybe there could be
another
way.”

Perrin sat back, stunned by the boy’s boldness. “As I said b
efore, Zenos—no, I’ve never considered violating the laws of the land. At least, not
that
one,” he confessed with a small smile.

Zenos hazarded a small smile too, but it seemed to have a sad undertone. “Understood, sir. I shouldn’t have . . . well, never mind. That’s about all I have for you today.” He made to get up out of the chair, but Perrin was struck by a thought and held up his hand to stop him.

“Zenos, one question: exactly
how
did the Guarder know the farmer was planting corn? He would have been across the upper canal there. For all he knew the farmer was dropping peas or pumpkin seeds.”

Zenos hesitated. “Too late in the season for peas, and pumpkins aren’t sown in rows.”

“But would the Guarder know that? If we plant corn in rows, might we not plant everything in rows?” Shin pressed. “I’m not exactly a gardener, as you might have guessed, but I do know that seeds are very small and difficult to identify from a distance.”

Zenos looked perplexed for a moment. “Maybe he went out at night and dug up the seeds, just to see what had been planted?”

Shin pondered that, along with the odd look his volunteer tried to conceal. He seemed to be worried that he hadn’t asked the Guarder how he knew what seeds were planted.

“Possibly,” Perrin decided. “You’re dismissed, Zenos. Reme
mber—extra food for our babbling Guarder tomorrow. Let’s see if sweet bread doesn’t loosen his tongue even more.”

Zenos stood up, apparently relieved. “Thank you, sir! Hope I have something promising tomorrow.”

After he left the room, Perrin whistled under his breath. “Six or seven children?” he whispered.

He sat quietly for a minute, lost in thought.

Then he forced himself to shake the traitorous thought out of his head.

---

The second year of Mahrree and Perrin’s marriage had flown by even more quickly than their first. It was a nauseating, exhausting, sweet, gratifying, terrifying, sleepless, fantastic blur.

There were many events and funny things Mahrree had decided she should would write down, but she always forgot until it was in the middle of the night and she was up with someone small, or using the washroom, or was awakened by the churning in her belly or the snoring of her husband, or by an irrational fear, or by a leg
itimate concern, or simply up because nothing
had
waken her up and she was worried that nothing
was
waking her up. That’s when she thought she could record what she wanted to remember, especially those days in the last Raining Season when she and Perrin sat on their bed on the floor in the gathering room and did nothing but watch Jaytsy and tend to his stitches. But even then she kept putting off stepping away from it all just to record it for later.

Before she realized it, it was the 38
th
Day of Weeding Season again, 321, and the evening of their second wedding anniversary. This year the Shin family was celebrating. Half of the family was asleep; the other half would be soon. The sky was a magnificent combination of swirling deep reds, purples, and blues, but Mahrree was the only one who noticed it.

They were on a blanket in the middle of their now very small yard in a bed of yellow weedy flowers. Their garden had shrunk co
nsiderably since the latest addition to the house was completed several weeks ago. Perrin had done most of the work himself after his stitches had healed.

Tonight Jaytsy kept leaving the blanket to practice her new trick
of walking. She loved to hoot after the occasional cart and driver that passed.

Five-week-old Peto, born on the 91
st
and last day of Planting Season, with thick brown hair and pale blue eyes, slept snuggled into his mother.