Soldier at the Door (60 page)

Shem kept his eyes on the general as he walked back up to his head. It was in moments like these that he was grateful for his trai
ning that conditioned him to go rigid until a threat had passed.

General Shin bent down and picked up off the floor the damp cloth that had been on Shem’s head most of the night. Shem stopped breathing as the general’s hand went for Shem’s throat, but Shem didn’t think he could choke him with
only one hand.

But then again, he
was
the High General.

The general only wiped the cloth under Shem’s chin, then stood back up, examining it.

“Know this,
Zenos
,” he said, staring at the cloth, “that I
know
. And when I have more evidence, I’ll be back for you.”

He was about to say something else, but mercifully the trea
tment door swung open again. The general purposely dropped the cloth on Shem’s hand, and Shem’s fist enclosed it.

“Oh, General! Are you all right?” Mahrree rushed over to her father-in-law as if she was going to embrace him, but she only gripped his arm. “I can’t believe no one told me until this morning! Perrin’s been gone half of the night, and only now did someone send for me. Where’s Mother Shin?”

“In the guest quarters. I’ll take you to her, Mahrree.” The general nodded at the corporal and led Mahrree away.

She sent a fleeting and confused glance to Shem, but still Shem couldn’t move.

Only after they left the room did Shem relax, unclench his fist, and look at the cloth.

“No!” he gasped.

High General Shin had wiped off a minuscule drop of dried blood from under Shem’s chin. There it was, a small red smear revitalized by the dampness of the white cloth.

He frantically wrenched off his jacket and inspected it in the growing morning light for blood splatters.

Nothing.

He glanced at his cap on the floor, but it, too, was clean. He stood up and hurriedly made his way to a mirror above a wash stand at the front of the treatment room. His face was completely clear. Nothing either in his hair, throat, or ears.

High General Shin had noticed, in the dim morning light, the one bit of evidence that Shem had been near the lieutenants. And he’d given that bit of evidence to the corporal.

Shem sat down clumsily on a nearby cot. The only reason the general did that was because he was sure he would find something more compelling to accuse Shem with later.

Then it would all be over.

Shem would have saved the High General’s life, but also would have failed in
saving
them.

Stay anonymous, keep a low profile, connect with no one . . . that’s what Tuma Hifadhi had told him to do. He had failed in all of that, too.

He was definitely in over his head.

---

“General,” Mahrree said circumspectly as they walked down the hall, “why were you speaking to Shem?”

“Just asking questions, Mahrree. I’m full of questions today.”

She firmed her grip on his arm. “Surely you don’t suspect that Shem—”

“Right now I suspect everything and everyone. Even Perrin’s dog.”

Well, that would’ve been too convenient
, Mahrree considered briefly. “I realize you don’t know much about Shem beyond what we tell you, but you have to believe me—he’s innocent.”

“And why should I believe that? Because he willingly changes the soiled cloths of your children? Because he has the face of a child himself? Because he goes with you to the congregational meetings? None of that means anything. He’s a skilled, strong young man. He was exceptional in the race I saw him run yesterday, and you told me yourself that he barely lost to Perrin last week. Only a man equal in power to Perrin could come that close to
besting him. I’m telling you—he’s not what he seems.”

Mahrree scoffed at that. “Why, he may be strong, but he barely touches his sword! Perrin’s
still
trying to get him comfortable with a blade. Shem Zenos is a sweet boy that’s no more capable of killing anyone than . . . than I am! And you know how squeamish I am. I pay the butcher extra to debone my chicken. Shem may be even worse!”

“Which would explain why—
had
he killed two men—he was in the surgery wing
vomiting
last night,” the general said with a slight edge to his voice.

Mahrree’s mouth dropped open in surprise, and she stopped walking until her father-in-law pulled her along.

“Surely not, General! Why—
why
would he do it? No. Absolutely not. Ridiculous. I think the other story is more plausible. They got in an argument, and they both were deadly at the same time. It seems unlikely, I agree, but certainly not impossible. And there’s no evidence of bloody footsteps leaving the scene, according to what Grandpy Neeks told me. Perrin said only yesterday that four of your guards were new soldiers you don’t even know—”

“And you don’t know Shem Zenos!” the general interrupted her sharply.

But it wasn’t sharp enough to shut her up. “Sir,
I know him better than you!
Right now you’re grabbing at any possibility, which means you’ve lost your impartiality. You don’t want the truth. You only want convenient answers!”

“Truth?! I’ve lost MY impartiality!” he bellowed.

Just as the general was about to round on Mahrree and let her know exactly what he thought, she stopped him with, “Did you trust Hogal Densal?”

General Shin blinked, startled out of his fury by the odd que
stion. “
What?
”

“Hogal Densal—did you trust him?”

The general sighed, slightly calmer. “I did. We didn’t see eye-to-eye on many things, but Hogal was an excellent judge of character, and noticed things no one else could.”

“Hogal
trusted
Shem,” Mahrree told him. “So do we. He told us repeatedly to keep Shem close to us, and said he was the finest young man he ever knew, after Perrin.”

General Shin looked down at the ground for a moment. “Hogal said that?”

Mahrree nodded. “High praise coming from him, wouldn’t you agree?”

The general was quiet for half a minute, staring at the floor, and Mahrree shifted in worry for her favorite soldier.

“Come, Mahrree,” the general eventually said. “Joriana needs a woman’s presence right now.”

Mahrree smiled primly as the general led her to their guest room.

Changing the subject was as close as the general would get to conceding defeat in anything.

---

That afternoon a bleary-eyed Perrin came home and sat down at the eating table. Mahrree was glad the house was quiet, because he looked like he needed it. She’d sent her After School Care boys to join with another group for the day, just in case there were more surprises for the Shin family.

That morning Mahrree had brought a fretful Joriana to their home—along with two guards who stationed themselves at either door—and shortly before midday meal Hycymum came over, cur
ious as to why her daughter’s house was “soldiered.” Hycymum came up with the
wonderful
idea to distract Joriana from the events of the night by taking her to the market so she could help her find the latest Idumea fashions, and Joriana decided her two grandchildren needed new clothes, too. The soldiers gave each other passing looks of dread as they followed the party of four to the markets. Mahrree couldn’t think of anything more distracting for Mother Shin than to try to shop with Hycymum and their two grandchildren.

When she finally returned, she would need a very quiet place herself.

Perrin supported his head in his hands and sighed as Mahrree put a plate of late midday meal in front of him. He hadn’t eaten since last night. He never ate when he was absorbed in a problem.

“Anything new?” she asked.

Perrin shook his head. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. All evidence—well, what there is of it—points to a fight between the two men. Maybe that’s all that happened.”

Mahrree sat down across from him. “You don’t sound as if you
believe that. Why?”

His hands came off his face. “Shem was sick last night. I spoke with him for a few minutes this morning. He suggested the most e
xtraordinary thing.”

“What?” Mahrree bit her lip.

“That the lieutenants may have been Guarders, trying to kill my parents.”

Mahrree gasped. “Why . . . why that’s . . . that’s . . .”

“Pretty much my initial response too,” Perrin agreed with her stammering. “But all morning I’ve been thinking about it. And then my father revealed to me one detail.” He shook his head again. “Mahrree, when he opened his door to discover the two officers on the ground, the door handle had
already
been unlatched, as if someone was about to enter his room, but stopped.”

“Meaning?” Mahrree breathed.

“The lieutenants may have already had their knives drawn. Perhaps they
were
going into my parents’ room. Perhaps . . . someone stopped them from whatever they were planning.”

Mahrree held her hand over her mouth. “But if someone stopped them, wouldn’t that person tell you what happened? He’d be quite the hero, you know. Recognizing a plot to assassinate the High Ge
neral then stopping it—”

“Unless,” Perrin whispered, “whoever saved the High General is
not
someone who
enjoys attention
.”

Mahrree’s chest tightened. “Perrin, when I found your father, he was in the hospital interrogating
Sh—”

“Don’t say it, Mahrree,” he cut her off. “Don’t put his name with this.”

That puzzled her. Normally Perrin would be the first to analyze every possibility. And not so long ago, he interrogated Shem himself and concluded he wasn’t a spy. Shem proved to be a hero in the Guarder raid, and if he had now stopped an assassination, he certainly would be looking at another round of applause at the amphitheater.

“But why not? Perrin, if he did do this, then—”

“Mahrree, think it through,” he said steadily. “If it
is
who we suspect, then how would he have known they were Guarders? How would he have known what they were up to?”

Mahrree paled with realization.

“No,” she said shortly, as everything she thought of her claimed little brother threatened to unravel in her head. It was worse than the notion that Guarders infiltrated Command School. Was Perrin actually hinting that a Guarder may have even infiltrated their family?! “No. No way that he is. He’s
not
one of them, Perrin! I would
never
believe that. NO!”

“Mahrree, Mahrree,” he reached over and patted her hand, “I agree. He’s not one of
them
, and that’s why I refuse to put his name with this. But Mahrree, for one moment, consider this question with me:
if
he did this,
how
did he know to do it?”

“But he didn’t! He—”

“The surgeon said only a very strong man could have plunged in those long knives to their handles.”

Tears filled Mahrree’s eyes. “Stop with this game and TELL me what you suspect about Shem Zenos!”

“He did it, Mahrree,” Perrin whispered bleakly. “He saved my father and mother, and he doesn’t want anyone to know. Because he’s hiding something more from us.”

Mahrree closed her eyes briefly and whimpered. “
No.
”

“When I look into his eyes,” Perrin continued, his voice gro
wing husky, “they’re like deep blue pools. But my father taught me how to read people. His ‘pools’ are very shallow. He blocks me, quite subtly. But Mahrree,” he said now with a more optimistic tone, “Shem
is
on our side. I’m sure of it. I don’t know where he came from, but he’s ours
now
. I still trust him, just like Hogal. And as Hogal said, we best keep him very close. He may be our only chance to survive.”

“But we have to find out the truth of who he is,” Mahrree whi
spered.

“Are you sure you want to know the truth?” he prodded.

“What kind of question is that?” she scoffed. “Of course I do!”

“But Mahrree,” he said with sudden sharpness, “with truth comes responsibility, too. You can’t live in the existence you’ve crafted for yourself if the truth conflicts with it.”

She recognized his debating voice, and she developed a dangerous gleam in her eye. “But if that existence is a lie, then isn’t it better to find the truth?”

“I really don’t know,” he muttered, abruptly giving up. “This may sound juvenile, but I like the world we’ve created with our f
avorite soldier. I don’t want to lose any of that. Do you?”

She lost her debating energy too. This wasn’t an academic a
rgument; this was about their little brother.