Soldier at the Door (55 page)

-
--

Zenos paused when he arrived at the tower waving the second red banner so he could shake out a cramp in his leg. This one was painfully real. One of the soldiers gave him a flask of water and a note with a location.

Zenos groaned. “I just ran past that family’s house! I think Karna’s made my route longer than the major’s.”

The soldier smiled. “Nope, they’re the same. The captain had two different groups measure the distances to be sure. You each have ten miles.”

Zenos bent over to massage his calf. “I’ve gone east to west to east again!”

“But the major was sent all the way to the far south tower,” Neeks pointed out. “He’s already hit his second yellow banner coming back north. It just went down.”

“No!” Zenos moaned, looked at the note again, ignored his cramp and took off in a sprint back in the direction he came.

-
--

Major Shin reached the last ‘tower on fire’ to the whoops and cheers of dozens of villagers who were waiting, with Gizzada still riding behind him. The sergeant’s horse was looking as exhausted as Perrin. Despite the cool temperatures of Harvest Season, the major was sweating as if it was the middle of Weeding. A severe pain in his side refused to let him stand up straight. His lungs burned so badly that he couldn’t imagine going another step.

He’d been hoping someone would have the news that Zenos had quit and was being carted away by the surgeon. Then Perrin could drop to the ground in honor and not move again for two days.

But there was no message about Zenos.

He grabbed the note offered by a sergeant and called up to the tower. “Where’s the white finish banner? Can’t see it from here,” he panted. “View’s obscured.”

One of the soldiers, cringing, yelled down to him. “Sir, there’s not a white banner, but there is a
pink striped
one. At the village green.”

The major slapped his forehead and forgot all about his pain.

“KARNA!” he roared and took off in a lumbering jog to the center of Edge.

---

At the forward office at the fort, Lieutenant Walickiah watched the banners go up and down. He timed how long the intervals were between each, signaling that the runner had reached his destination. He watched as the last of the yellow and red banners came down, and saw the final one rise up in the middle of the village. He squinted and looked at it again. Then he took the spyglass to verify . . .

Yes. It was
pink stripes.

This was the most unusual fort.

He picked up the banner code sheet the major had left, but didn’t see anything coded for pink. Then Walickiah noticed a different handwriting at the bottom of the page. He remembered that as the major and corporal were taking off their uniforms, Captain Karna had added something to the paper. He waved it to the major, asking if he wanted to review it, but the major was too preoccupied in insulting the corporal. The captain only grinned, nodded at Walickiah, put down the paper, and went downstairs to take his position.

Walickiah glanced around before allowing himself to respond to the last code.

“Pink stripes: mother-in-law sighted, bringing cake.”

He chuckled.

Too bad she was on his list. Walickiah loved cake.

---

Corporal Zenos, having ‘saved’ three citizens in different areas from Guarder attacks, was now sprinting towards the middle of Edge and smirking at the pink striped banner. The major was going to
love
that, he was sure. Shem almost forgave Karna for his first kissing stop.

The crowd at the village green was even larger than when he and the major had left it a couple of hours ago. Shem was still wea
ving through the nearly abandoned marketplace when he was spotted by people on the perimeter of the green. A huge cheer erupted. Shem would’ve grinned, but he didn’t want to risk unnecessarily expending any energy. He had a major to beat.

He rounded the last corner, barely hearing the hooves of
Neeks’s horse behind him because of the shouts of the villagers. They parted for him to have a straight shot to the tower in the middle of the green. Shem saw a blurry group of blue uniforms in front of him, and a few sitting on horseback. His lungs burned, his leg seized, but nothing could stop him.

The noise was deafening as Zenos ran up to the tower and slapped it happily.

“YES!” he cried to the roar of the crowd.

Captain Karna, atop his horse, was laughing. He clucked his mount to take a few steps so Zenos could see what the animal was concealing.

“NO!” he cried again, this time in anguish. He slumped against the tower and closed his eyes in frustration, then opened them again and stared in disbelief.

Major Shin laughed.

Or at least he tried to.

It caught in his throat since he was leaning over and wheezing. He waved feebly at Shem and winked.

Panting, Zenos looked up to Karna. “By how much?”

Karna shook his head. “Maybe just fifteen seconds. All that cheering wasn’t just for you, Corporal!”

Shem dropped his head into his hands.

Karna waved to the villagers closing in on the racers. “Ladies and gentlemen, please give them some time to catch their breath b
efore you overwhelm them with congratulations and sympathy! If you will all make your way over to tables by the amphitheater doors, I assure you the major and the corporal will join us shortly.”

The captain led the crowd while several soldiers stood guard in front of Shin and Zenos and urged well-wishers to follow.

Gizzada and Neeks, still chuckling, set their horses to corral errant Edgers.

Shem still held his head, amazed. If he hadn’t ‘tripped’ near the forest and spent that time getting back up, he would’ve won the race. He smiled briefly to realize he really
was
the strongest soldier.

But there were far more important things in the world than wi
nning a competition.

“So close.
So close
,” he moaned as he slid down the tower to the ground and flopped his head wearily against the lattice work. “It’s the captain’s fault! If Sareen hadn’t kissed me—I couldn’t think clearly for at least a minute after that.”

That made the major stand back up. He put his hands on his waist and hobbled over.

“So I tell you no cookies, and instead you start kissing girls? At least you’re growing up!” With a weak chuckle, Shin slumped on the ground next to Zenos.

“How’d you do it, Major? How’d you beat me?”

“Shem,” he whispered, and Shem noticed that the major—
Perrin
—was increasingly calling him by his first name, “it nearly killed me. May have to hitch me up to Gizzada’s horse and have it drag me home. I was about to give up at the second to last tower. But then I found out about that pink atrocity and, well . . . that was
incredible motivation
to get here and GET IT DOWN!”

Shem laughed weakly with him. Neither of them noticed the figure walking up to them whom the soldiers didn’t stop.

“I have a feeling neither of you are going anywhere soon. Should I bring you pillows and blankets and let you sleep here for the night?”

They wearily looked up and Mahrree grinned back at them.

“Quite an exciting finish!”

Perrin smiled. “So who were you cheering for at the end?”

“For you, of course!” But she winked exaggeratedly at Shem who winked back. “Did you like the last banner?”

Perrin covered his face with his hands. “What was he thin
king?!”

“He was thinking you’d need an extra nudge at the end. Obv
iously it worked. Now, come, both of you. If you don’t move, you’ll stiffen up. People want to see you, and my mother’s been baking for two straight days. She’s brought over enough cake for the entire village. That’s where everyone left to.” She cocked her head toward the amphitheater.

“Cake?” The major’s hands came off his face. “Again she made cake? For the initial test of a new army protocol?
Refreshments?!
”

Shem chortled.

Perrin elbowed him.

Mahrree rolled her eyes and sat down on the dried grasses in front of the men.

“This was hardly a protocol. This was a race of egos, and you both know it. We’ll have to make it an annual event. You brought out more people than Catapult Day used to, and no one gets dirty or smelly but you two. It’s a brilliant way to get the village to rally around the army. Now, you
are
expected to come over and get cake and win over those last hearts and minds. Perrin, don’t roll your eyes at me. My mother is holding the children hostage in their wagon until you come over. And when you see the tablecloths she made, not ONE word of comment about them. Understand?”

“Oh Mahrree, I already feel weak and nauseated,” Perrin moaned.
“What
did she do for tablecloths? And who needs tablecloths?!”

Well,” his wife smiled, “she had some leftover cloth from tape
ring the banners, so . . .” Mahrree’s eyebrows rose in suggestion.

“Let me guess—the pink striped is prominently in the middle?”

“You
are
smart. Now I see how you got to be the major.”

Shem burst out laughing, but rolled away fast enough that the major’s elbow caught the wood of the tower instead of his corporal.

Cringing in pain, Perrin allowed his wife to help him to his feet. Mahrree turned to offer a hand to help Shem up, then she put her arms around both of their waists and pretended her small frame could support both of their large ones as they limped along.

As the three of them approached the crowd, the people parted and cheered. Even Magistrate Cockalorum and Chief Curglaff were grinning and applauding, and Shem noticed that neither of them seemed to regard him as a ‘convenient spy.’

Winning hearts and minds. Yes, Shem knew the lessons too, and could probably teach a few things to the major.

Karna, now standing next to Mrs. Peto behind a table, was the only one not clapping. Instead he held up a piece of cake, took a big bite, and nodded at the racers.

The major pointed an accusatory finger at him. The corporal glared at him.

Karna
only shrugged innocently.

As Mahrree led them to the tables, Perrin groaned. The tabl
ecloths were miniature banners stitched together to make one large, colorful mess of cloth. Over the head of his wife he looked at Shem. Shem returned the same look of,
For crying out loud
. Then they both smirked painfully.

But they kept their promise to Mahrree, and neither one of them said a word.

-
--

It was a rare moment for Mahrree. No children were clinging to her—they were being tended to by some of her former students. Her mother had refused to let her help serve the cake—Hycymum wanted all the praise for herself. So Mahrree took advantage of the quiet moment, stepped back to lean against a tree, and watched “her boys” from a non-meddling distance.

The crowd loved—completely and absolutely
loved
—Edge’s Strongest Soldiers. They sat on chairs in the middle of the dying grasses, recently nibbled short by sheep, so that the hundreds of well-wishers could dote on them.

Captain Karna had really captured the spirit of the day, Mahrree decided. Not only had he sent a wagon and a couple of soldiers to help her mother bring all of the cake to the green, but he’d also set up the winner’s circle. Perrin was perched on a large chair covered in thick red cloths. Up close you could tell they were typical drying cloths he could use to wipe himself, but from a distance they looked suspiciously like the red cloth the kings reportedly had covering their throne.

The loser’s chair, however, was a tiny thing—looked like a child’s stool, actually—with one dingy gray rag on it. When Shem sat down on it, as ordered by Karna, the contrast to Perrin’s “throne” was absurd. Shem’s head was far lower than Perrin’s, and he had to balance to keep from toppling over. Edgers had been laughing steadily at the scene for ten minutes now. Shem, to his great credit, took it all in stride.

Mahrree just grinned as she watched the flow of people swarm Perrin and Shem. If Edgers had been afraid of Major Shin, they didn’t seem to be now. In fact . . .

Mahrree squinted to focus on individual faces.

In fact, many of the women seemed
quite taken
by him. Mahrree scrunched up her lips before deciding she didn’t have to be jealous. It hadn’t occurred to her before that the majority of women in Edge didn’t have such a specimen of manhood at home, so naturally they were admiring hers.

Perhaps it was because Perrin’s jacket was at the fort, and the thin sleeveless undershirt he wore clung to him so well. He was drenched—likely from sweat and from pouring water over his head at some point—which
only made the white cotton hug his form more distinctly. Mahrree chuckled to realize that even his damp round shoulders seem to catch the light and glisten in the sun. His solid chest and stomach stretched the shirt to its limits, and the muscles of his arms, normally hidden by his jacket, bulged with extraordinary definition.