Soldier at the Door (57 page)

The good doctor rubbed his hands again, wondering what he missed doing. While he told the lieutenant to take advantage of any situation, he really had been directing him to take out the mother-in-law. She’d lived a long enough life, her death would’ve been close enough to the family to have made some impact, and the children would have been spared . . .

Brisack stopped massaging his hands.

Was the Quite Man
really
the baby tender? The children. What in the world was he trying to accomplish with them?

Suddenly, Brisack wanted nothing more than to have five minutes alone with him, which he knew would never happen.

Still . . .

“There’s still the Quiet Man,” he reminded Mal, but wasn’t sure what to do with that. “While two others have vanished, he’s r
emained loyally at the fort.”

“But what good is he doing us?!” Mal snapped.

Brisack shrugged again, the only gesture he seemed to know that night. “Maybe he’s doing more to keep Shin involved than we realize. He’s still there, devoted, while two others have abandoned us. Maybe we should just let him do his work. I see no reason to do anything more with Edge,” he decided. “We still have so much to analyze from the attacks on the three villages to keep us busy for—”

The Chairman shook his head. “No. He’s getting too cocky up there. And now these towers?! The maps, we could work with. But how will we ever sneak into the villages, undetected, with men watching in towers?! I can’t even get a message to the Quiet Man because communication in the north is breaking down again! No,” Mal said with severe resolve, “Shin
must
be broken. If the Quiet Man
is
the baby tender, he’s in a perfect position to complete Walickiah’s mission. Wait until he’s watching the children, claim there was a raid—”

“How?” Brisack asked, panic tightening in his chest when Mal mentioned the children. “You just said we can’t get him a message. No, we need to come up with a new strategy for breaking Perrin Shin. And since he’s manned the towers, I don’t know either how we can get someone in to reach his family or even the mother-in-law.”

“All right, Brisack,” Mal said smoothly. “Since you’re so averse to anything involving his children, there’s someone else we can get.” His voice was thick with planning. “Someone else close to him whose death would devastate the great Perrin Shin and bring him to his knees.”

Brisack pointed at him. “I already told you—no. It’s too risky. That would be crossing the line from tragedy to outrage, and I refuse to be found in that pit with you!”

“It’s the
only
way, Doctor. Nothing else has worked. But this
will
,” Mal said calmly.

Too calmly for Brisack’s tastes.

“I refuse to be a part of that! No!”

“Fine,” Mal shrugged with a movement that suggested easiness but meant business. “I have someone who
will
. Someone else with a plan, and with men readied, who will
not
fail me.”

Brisack stood up abruptly. “It’s your grave, Nicko!”

“I doubt it,” he smiled thinly as the doctor stormed out of the library.

A moment later Mal said, “Gadiman.”

A door that led to a back hallway opened into the darkened room.

“Did you hear?”
said Mal, not bothering to look in the direction of the quiet squeak of hinges.

“Oh, I heard!” said a voice that sounded rather like a weasel that just happened upon a trapped warren of rabbits. “I told you he’d fail!”

“Yes, you did,” Mal intoned, but even Gadiman wasn’t going to annoy him tonight. “Tell your men to get ready. The Guarders are about to strike their most shocking and focused blow. Ah, the world will never be the same . . .”

---

Barker woke up and stretched lazily. He looked around at the neighborhood. It wasn’t his. He sniffed the cold fog that rested on Edge that morning. Without another thought he stood up and started trotting towards the main road before the sun rose.

“Whoa, look at the size of that dog!”

“I know whose that is—that’s Major Shin’s dog. Sniffer. Or Digger. Drooler . . . something like that.”

Emerging from the fog were two soldiers, just coming off duty from patrolling the village. Barker continued to trot, realizing that while they were dressed in blue, they didn’t smell like the Major.

“Should we walk him home?” asked one of the soldiers.

“Might as well. His home is along the way to the fort. But I get the feeling he’s walking
us
home. Whiner?” he tried, but the dog didn’t look at the soldiers trying to keep up with him.

“Certainly seems to know where he’s going, doesn’t he? The major always lets him run loose?”

The other soldier shrugged. “He has a fence around his garden. Not a very tall one, but certainly not something this dog could jump. Jumper?” he tried again to guess the dog’s name.

Barker paid no attention to the soldiers. He was finding his way home. He turned down one road, then cut across to another alley, with the soldiers right behind him.

“That’s got to be the most determined and quiet dog I’ve ever seen,” one soldier said. “His name certainly isn’t Barker, then.”

Barker’s black floppy ears twitched slightly as he continued home.

-
--

Corporal Zenos walked into Edge’s Inn and smiled at the older man standing behind the bar. Since it was the middle of the afternoon, most of the tables in the eating area were emptied, just waiting for a soldier in need of a snack.

“Let me guess, Corporal—pie?” the man asked with a smile.

Zenos chuckled. “I’m that predictable, am I?”

“I value my steady customers, son. I count on you being pr
edictable!”

Zenos grinned. “I’ve got a short race I need to run later today, so I thought I’d get a little something to ensure a win. Is Mrs. Peto in?”

“I am, dear!” called a happy voice from the kitchen behind a partially closed door. She peeked out of the door, her round cheeks smeared with bits of flour as if she had been brushing it off, but only added more instead. “What are you in the mood for today, Corporal?”

Shem pondered that for a moment, waiting for the serving girl to make her way past him. She was deliberately slow about it, as she always was, bumping him in a purposeful sort of way.

It was because she was afflicted with a severe case of cleavage that Zenos kept his eyes on the ceiling as if in concentration.

“How about you tell me what’s available, Mrs. Peto?” he su
ggested.

The serving girl gave him a saucy look which he almost missed.

Mrs. Peto stepped into the doorway with an eager smile. “Tell me how fresh peach pie sounds?”

“Absolutely perfect!” Shem grinned. “You know, your daughter makes a good pie, but it’s not quite yours yet, Mrs. Peto.”

Hycymum beamed and ducked back into the kitchen.

Zenos leaned against the serving bar and looked around the ea
ting room. At one table along the wall sat a middle-aged couple enjoying a drink and a leisurely afternoon. He smiled genially at them and they smiled back.

Across the room from them, at a table in the corner by the wi
ndows, sat a young man around Shem’s age, slowly pushing food around his plate and lost in deep thought.

A moment later Mrs. Peto popped out again with a large piece of peach pie. “I hope you like it, Corporal,” she winked at him.

“It looks perfect, so I’m sure I’ll love it!” he winked back at her.

The serving girl grumbled quietly that there were no winks for her. Shem turned and walked over to the table with the middle aged couple.

“So, enjoying your stay in Edge?” he asked as he sampled the pie.

“We are, thank you for asking,” said the man. His black hair was streaked with gray, and his narrow dark eyes twinkled cheerfu
lly.

“Anything I can help you find here?” Shem offered.

The woman sitting across from him, with her blonde and gray hair twisted into a loose bun, smiled sweetly. “No, no, we’re fine. We’re spending a few days to get to know the village. That’s my nephew over there. He’s recently lost his parents and is looking for someplace new, without so many
difficult memories
,” she said quietly. “We came to Edge to see if this might be what he’s looking for.”

Shem nodded slowly. “Maybe I can answer some questions for him. Do you think he’d mind?”

The couple shook their heads.

“Go ahead,” the husband said.

Shem smiled and walked over to their nephew, who was still oblivious to anything but the remains of the stew he swirled around on his plate.

Shem cleared his throat. “May I join you?”

The young man looked up abruptly, startled. “Uh, well, I was kind of expecting—”

Not concerned about what he was expecting, Shem sat down and nodded at the plate. “Didn’t enjoy the mutton stew?”

“Oh no, it was quite good.”

Shem nodded and took another bite of pie. “Then you should really try this for dessert.”

“Don’t have much appetite,” the young man sighed.

“Hard to eat when you’re looking for a new home, is it?”

The young man blinked rapidly.

“Your aunt and uncle told me,” Shem explained. “Thought maybe I could help you a bit. Anything I can tell you about Edge?”

“Uhh,” the young man began, but stopped as he saw the serving girl come over to wipe down a nearby table. She intentionally leaned forward on the surface to make the most of her affliction, and watched the two young men talking, oblivious to the crumbs she kept missing.

Under his breath and without moving his lips, Shem muttered, “Don’t look at her, Dormin.”

That snapped the young man’s attention back to the soldier in front of him.

“Fishing’s great!” Shem said loudly with a big grin. “The Edge River is just to the west, and the trout are enormous. But I need to
warn you, if you fish too close to the forest, you might find yourself wrestling for your catch with a bear.”

The serving girl rolled her eyes at the conversation, stood back up, and went to the kitchen.

“How’d you know my name?” Dormin whispered.

“I’m your contact,” Shem said in an equally low voice. But his manner was casual and cheery, as if enjoying a meaningless chat. “And don’t worry. No one can hear us, not even your ‘aunt’ and ‘u
ncle.’ The thick curtains here absorb much of our conversation, and the way the sun hits the windows creates a glare, so no one will even see us together. Watch.” He turned to the windows and waved goofily. “Hi!”

But no one passing noticed, because of the glint of sunshine blinding them.

“That’s why I choose this hour at this time of year. We have less than ten minutes before the angle shifts,” he said nonchalantly as he took another bite of pie, “so you can tell me what’s going on. The moustache and beard look good, by the way.”

Dormin nodded slightly, still unsure of the situation. “It was Mrs. Yu—”

Shem gave him a severe look.

“I mean, my
aunt’s
idea. Said I look less like my father this way.”

“Well, she’s one who would know,” Shem said quietly. “The problem is?”

“It’s my brother,” he whispered.

“Uh-huh, Uh-huh,” Shem interrupted loudly. “Yes, we
do
have great hunting.”

The serving girl passed again with a disgusted sigh.

“He’s in a uniform,” Dormin said softly as the girl bustled to the kitchen again.

“Nothing wrong with that,” Shem winked, and took another bite.

“He’s making
plans
.”

“Alone, or with someone?” Shem said as if they were only di
scussing the amount of snow in Edge.

“Not sure. Probably not alone, because he has no patience. Someone else is likely in charge.”

“He has another name?”

“Heth,” Dormin whispered, as if it was profanity.

“What’s his plan?” Shem asked between bites.

“Not sure either, but he wants a mansion.
Our
old mansion.”

“The Shins,” Shem breathed. For the first time his face tigh
tened in concern.

“Yes, the High General—I’m pretty sure,” Dormin said, taking a bite of his cold stew just for show.

“General Shin’s on his way here now, to inspect the new security measures in the village.”

Dormin blinked in surprise. “My brother might be with him!”

“I hope you’re not planning a family reunion,” Shem warned.

“Not at all. I already made my peace with him.”

“Good, because if he
is
with the general, he’s not here to make peace.”