The Forest at the Edge of the World (16 page)

The audience chuckled, and several women clapped loudly in agreement.

Mahrree’s smile darkened and she fought the urge to glare in his admirers’ direction.

Captain Shin continued. “To help our ancestors understand something of the nature of our bodies, the Creator called them t
ogether in a vast field.”

Mahrree sighed. Soon
he would reveal just how much he knew, and how well.

“The Creator crouched in the middle of the field and scooped up a handful of earth.” Captain Shin reached into the crate and pulled out a fistful of soil. “He held it up and said to His children, ‘Consi
der, my beloveds, that you are of this earth. Your bodies belong to this world while you experience this Test. Your spirits have been with me for far longer than you can imagine; they are very, very old, but your bodies are very new.’”

Mahrree felt goose bumps on her arms. Never before had she heard someone say those words as the captain did. Usually people read The Writings as if reciting from a dull school text. But Captain Shin repeated the Creator’s words as if he had actually heard Him speak them. Mahrree felt as if she was hearing Him right now. She
glanced around the amphitheater and noticed he had the same effect on many of the villagers. They sat on the edges of the benches listening to his deep, rich voice.

“‘My beloveds, to know where your bodies came from will not help you in your completion of the Test. Rather, it would serve only to confuse and even frustrate you. But know this: each of you is i
mportant and is here to serve a vital purpose. No matter your color or composition, each of you needs to help your family. And we are
all
family.’”

Mahrree held her breath as he recited, perfectly and powerfully, the words of the Creator.

“‘Just as I designed this world for your habitation during this Test, so I also designed your bodies to house your spirits. You have no other memories of your life with me before, but as I stand here now you have evidence that you did live with me. It is sufficient to know that I created all that is here on this world, including each of you.’”

Captain Shin shook out the dirt in his hand and took another fistful of the darkest soil in his box.

“Then the Creator held up a handful of dark brown earth and said, ‘Suppose instead that all of you are as soil. Some of your bodies were created from earth as dark and rich as this. Already you have discovered this kind of soil will yield the greatest harvests.’ I have to agree,” said the captain, breaking away from his narrative. “I took this sample from the field of Mr. and Mrs. Unabi, with their permission. The height of their pea plants right now is simply astounding. And from the looks of this soil,” he said analyzing the darkness of it, “the Unabis were formed from that very dirt themselves!”

The audience chuckled as the
Unabis beamed with pleasure. Their white smiles seemed to glow surrounded by their dark brown skin.

Mahrree smiled outwardly but grumbled on the inside. He was smoothly winning over the audience. Every farmer or brown-skinned person of varying shades—which was about one-third of the aud
ience—now felt a connection to her opponent.

Captain Shin then reached into the box and pulled out another handful of soil, redder and more claylike.

“Others, the Creator told us, were similar to this dirt. It is clumpier, moister, and yet still very useful earth.” He balled it up in his large hand, clenching it a few times until he opened his fingers to reveal a lump of clay. “This sample came from the Dinay family property whose pottery will be used by the fort. Seems to be sturdier than anything in use at the garrison in Idumea, and since soldiers tend to be clumsy creatures, we need plates and bowls that can handle a drop or two.”

The audience chuckled in appreciation while the
Dinays nodded that their goods would hold up well.

“Much like this red clay, many families like the
Dinays have a similar hue. Still earth, just differently shaded, and still infinitely useful.”

Another segment of the population of Edge, reddish like the clay, was now looking at Captain Shin with approval.

Mahrree moaned softly.

The captain dropped the clay ball into the box and pulled out another handful of soil, lighter and tinged yellow.

“Some of us, the Creator explained, could be considered derived from soil such as this one, yellowed with sulfur. Initially our ancestors didn’t know what to do with this, until they noticed insects stayed away from it. Suddenly sulfur-tinged soil was desired for lining farms and gardens to keep out the pests. Then it was discovered that farming soils, even those as dark as the Unabis, became even more productive when just the right amounts of this was shoveled into it. Now this smelly substance is being experimented with in Idumea to create salves for skin problems. What we initially thought was useless now is exceptionally useful.

“My grandfather told me once that my great-great grandfather Shin, whose first name we never knew, was more this hue than any other. Over the generations his ‘soil’ mixed with others so that I can hardly see any trace of it in my own flesh. Yet as I look around t
onight I see many with hair and eyes as dark as mine and skin tinted yellow as my great-great grandfather’s.  I may infer that you may be my distant cousins.

“There are those who lament the losses of our family lines—the records destroyed accidentally in that devastating fire after the Great War. But there are others who say it was an act of mercy. I don’t know who my ancestors are, as do none of you, but I can assume all of you are part of my family. And, as the first line of The Writings reminds us, ‘We
are
all family.’”

Mahrree might as well have conceded defeat right there. Telling
another one fifth of Edge that he was most likely a distant cousin solidly won their support. While his eyes were rounder than most of those he claimed as kin, many of his other features now seemed remarkably reminiscent of those families.

Mahrree
should
have called for an end to the debate, because then she would have been spared what came next.

Captain Shin dropped the yellow tinted soil into the box and now took a fistful of sandy gravel, pale and crumbly.

“Then there were others of us created in a way similar to this . . . well, soil isn’t an accurate designation. Still considered ‘earth,’ though. The other part of my family apparently is of this constitution. It took our ancestors a while to find a use for this.  For growing crops or creating pottery, it was quite disappointing. Had no useful soil-augmenting or medicinal purposes either. It seemed like filler.” He sifted the sandy gravel between his fingers. “Dry. Bland. Barren.”

He paused, glanced over at Mahrree, then stepped over to her. He took up her arm which was bare since she had rolled up her sleeves, and dramatically dribbled some of the pale dirt on her arm.

“Hmm. Perfect match. No surprise there, since I took this sample from your front ‘garden.’”

The amphitheater hooted with laughter, but Mahrree bristled in anger.

At least, she hoped she looked like she was bristling. She trembled slightly as his large rough hand held her narrow arm.

“I suppose I should have asked permission to take this,” he apologized loudly over the laughter. “But I didn’t think you’d notice a shovelful missing. Not sure if you’d notice
anything
different in your yard.”

She yanked her arm away as the crowd roared again. With a huff she wiped off the dust and rolled down her sleeves.

Captain Shin smiled at the people packed into the amphitheater. More were arriving every minute.

“Then our ancestors discovered that mixing this dreary su
bstance with water and a few other elements could create a mortar to hold together stones. And suddenly this, too, had purpose and was necessary for our lives.” He nodded at Mahrree as he dropped the last of the sandy gravel back into the crate.

“Over the years we’ve discovered that mixing the soils creates other uses, just as blending our family lines has resulted in new and
inventive mixtures. I asked Mr. Unabi if this soil,” he again held up a handful of sample from Mahrree’s garden, “could ever produce anything besides spindly weeds. He assured me that with a few wagonfuls of his soil, other amendments like manure and sulfur, and a lot of hard work even this,” he let it dribble out of his hands, “could become productive. I find that remarkable. And a far better science project for Miss Peto’s students.” 

The villagers tittered in agreement.

Mahrree squinted.

“By combining what we know and what we are, we can tran
sform nearly anything into what we need it to become. I think that was planned deliberately by the Creator. He knew we would need each other, especially if one kind of ‘soil’ couldn’t do it all. This,” he held up Mr. Unabi’s black dirt, “would never hold as mortar.”

Tossing the handful back into the crate, he continued. “Many of you, like me, would struggle to identify just what kind of ‘soil’ we are now. But we are all needed, all equal, and all capable of combi
ning for intriguing results. I, for one, embrace the Creator’s explanation. Our spirits are
from
Him. Our bodies are created
by
Him of the earth to assist each other. And we will be returned
to
the earth when we die. And then we have the promise that someday these bodies will be restored and perfected, never again to be separated from our spirits.

“There may be those who choose not to believe, and that’s their right. But I receive comfort and peace from this belief, and I choose that this,” he held up two handfuls of soils, the gravel and the yellow tinged, “is the constitution of my body, rather than to think that Miss Peto’s blob,” he jerked his head over at her sample, “is my future brother. This is not an issue for debate, but for belief. Make your d
ecisions as to what to embrace, but let me embrace my belief.”

The audience immediately rose to its feet and applauded thu
nderously.

Mahrree would have applauded too, but that wouldn’t have been appropriate. Besides, his words couldn’t have been
all
his. She stood with her arms folded, smiling faintly at the praise he received.

He glanced over at her and seemed just a little embarrassed, and Mahrree suspected why. She looked down at Rector Densal who glowed proudly at the captain.

Something was going on between them.

The rector was probably trying to help the captain be more rea
dily accepted by the village, because that was the kind of person Hogal Densal was. He would see a need and do all he could to help. He must have been coaching the captain for days, and now he had found a way to connect to every citizen of Edge.

Every citizen except
one
, who stood in obvious defeat on the podium.

At least she had the satisfaction of knowing it took the co
mbined efforts of both the wisest rector of the village
and
a university educated army officer to defeat her.

When the applause died down Captain Shin turned to Mahrree and leaned in so close she could hardly breathe.

“Besides, Miss Peto, as much as you may love your blob—and I hope you and ‘my brother’ will be very happy together—”

Mahrree tried to ignore the sniggering in the audience as she blushed again.

“—you mentioned before the notion of mythological elephants holding up the world. You and I both know that if one element of an idea can’t be true, then none of it is. Elephants aren’t real. Besides, you don’t
really
believe that either.”

It was his third and last wink that completely did her in. She turned red and couldn’t form a retort.

When Rector Densal declared Captain Perrin Shin the winner, she wasn’t surprised at all.

Chapter 8 ~ “
Uhhh, sometime I am available should be fine, when we, uh you, can make it.”

L
ate at night, in the forests outside of the large village of Grasses, several men stood in a thick stand of trees. Two young men wore the village’s garb, while the rest were dressed in dark clothing that allowed them to blend into the woods. They had been watching all evening, timing the patterns of the soldiers who rode by on horseback at regular intervals.

When all was clear, the largest man pointed to the two young men.

They nodded, then stepped out of the forest and started their brisk walk towards the village.

In the morning, the fort at Grasses would receive new recruits.

-
--

The captain in charge of recruits at the large fort of Grasses evaluated the two young men who stood at attention in the command office that morning.

“You’ll need to pass the first three weeks of training before you can be officially called soldiers,” he warned them. “Our colonel can’t use men that can’t run, ride, or fight.”

“Sir, you and your colonel will be impressed,” one of the young men answered confidently. “We’ll qualify to be soldiers for the Army of Idumea. We already know how to do those things, and
more
.”

The captain nodded once. “I’ll hold you to your promise. So, why did you choose to leave Orchards to come north?”

The other young man shrugged. “We just find the north more appealing, sir.”

“Well, then . . . Welcome to the fort of Grasses. We have a long and prestigious history, dating back to the Great War. I expect you will help forward that. The lieutenant will see that you get uniforms and show you your bunks. Training begins at dawn.”

-
--

As Mahrree walked to the marketplace to gather her evening’s meal, her thoughts circled on just one thing: Captain Perrin Shin. The fourth debate had been several days ago and tomorrow would be their fifth. The closer it came, the more she thought about him—

That was a lie, Mahrree admitted to herself as she crossed a road and continued south. There wasn’t any way she
could
think more about him. He seemed to be everywhere that week, walking past her school, in the neighborhoods, at the village green, around the amphitheater. And every day she heard reports of him from others, since everyone felt the need to tell her of their encounters with him. He even went so far as to go to Rector Densal’s congregational meetings.

On the first Holy Day he attended, right after their second d
ebate, he caused a mild panic. Everyone wondered why a uniform was there, although the rumor was that he was trying to appear penitent for his dismissal of The Writings.

Mahrree had seen him when she first entered the meeting. He was already seated on a bench on the right side of the building, with adequate space around him provided by the stunned parishioners who didn’t want to risk getting too close. She stumbled over her feet for a moment, then made a bee-line for the other side of the building and sat down on a still-empty pew.

Her mother, saving a spot for her just two rows behind the captain, waved frantically for Mahrree to join her. Hycymum had deliberately chosen that spot, Mahrree found out later, so that they would have a
good view
. It was when she was shaking her head apologetically at her mother that Mahrree noticed positioning herself in just the right way would put the captain right in her line of sight, if she glanced to her side.

During the meeting she dared to peek over at him only twice. The first time a large woman leaned over and blocked her view. Mahrree had uncharitable thoughts about her for which she sent a quick apology upwards. The second time she
did
see him, but found herself so embarrassed she averted her eyes after only a brief moment.

When they broke into smaller discussion groups he sat on the same row as her. The way the row curved, however, gave her a clear view of him.

It also gave
him
a clear view of
her
.

She did her best not to look at him, but it didn’t matter because everyone else was. It wasn’t expected that an officer would be inte
rested in an in-depth discussion of The Writings before the congregational midday meal. But from his comments it was obvious he had read The Writings and even memorized some sections. He even pointed out a minor detail to Rector Densal that clarified a confusing passage. The rector had beamed at him proudly, but maybe he’d already been coaching the captain.

That was when Mahrree finally stole a peek at him. He seemed to be looking in her general direction, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded and a studious look on his face. But she wasn’t sure until he gave her a quick wink. She sucked in her breath and turned towards the front again. For the rest of the meeting she sat frozen in place, but something insisted on burning in her chest.

The day after their fourth debate was Holy Day again, and she sat a few rows behind him in both meetings so she could try to concentrate.

That wasn’t the best idea, either.

Instead of avoiding his winks, she found it difficult to focus on anything else but his thick black hair and the details of his head. She had the curves of his ears and neck memorized by the time the midday meal began. 

She could still recall the exact shape of his earlobes, and it gave her goose bumps as she walked to the market that evening.

“How adolescent!” she muttered in self-admonition. She approached the outer ring of shops, barely noticing the looks of confusion on the two women she passed as she declared their dresses, hats, or conversation as “adolescent.”

Mahrree
did
think she heard one of them utter “—Guarder snatched!”
so they likely deserved it.

And there he was again in her mind.

Now, there
were
many qualities he had worth admiring: his quick thinking, his ability to shift emotions, even the way he could stand straight and not appear to breathe for long periods of time. What good that skill was for, she didn’t know. Maybe for sneaking up on Guarders. But it was commendable and she could certainly admire someone’s ability to . . . not breathe.

“How stupid!” she told herself, and three men in discussion fu
rrowed their eyebrows at her unsolicited criticism.

It was everyone else’s fault, she decided as she worked her way through the crowds towards the baker’s. Everyone else brought him up, repeatedly. Her teenage students asked endless questions about him, but they weren’t nearly as annoying as her mother. Just yeste
rday she came over to ask what Mahrree and the captain did when they weren’t on the platform, her eyes glowing with too much imagination.

“Nothing, Mother!” Mahrree had declared. “We never meet a
nywhere else. Now go back to your sewing group and tell them there’s nothing to tell!”

Hycymum just nodded and said, “We’ll see about that.”

“There will be nothing to see!” she called after her mother who was giggling as she went down the walk.

“She never listens,” Mahrree grumbled as she paid for her loaf of bread. She pushed past the crowd at the baker’s, not noticing the bewildered look of the baker’s daughter to whom she gave her pay.

Normally the night before a debate Mahrree would be running different arguments in her head. But tonight she had nothing because Rector Densal had told her the topic would be a surprise for both of them. She tried to imagine what kinds of discussions he might spring on them as she wandered over to purchase some early greens, but her mind couldn’t rest on anything for more than a moment. Every time her thoughts shifted, they shifted in only one direction. It was irritating to see him on every wall of her mind.

“
Oy! Watch out, there!”

The shout behind Mahrree startled her out of her thoughts, and she turned abruptly to find herself in the arms of Captain Shin.

In the middle of the market.

With everyone watching.

At least, that’s likely how it appeared to the surprised villagers, Mahrree realized in humiliating remembrance later.

In truth, the captain’s arms
were
outstretched, because he had a jug in one hand, and a large bunch of flowers in the other, and a young child had just darted in front of him. That was what caused him to raise his arms upwards to avoid hitting the boy. He’d shouted the warning and then stepped awkwardly, losing his balance only to find himself within inches of Mahrree who had just spun around.

She also was unsteady on her feet as she turned suddenly, and found herself falling inexplicably towards him, her bread in one hand, her bag in another. With both of their hands full of goods, nothing prevented Mahrree’s face from colliding into the captain’s solid chest. She breathed in his earthy-yet-sweet-scent and her mind went blank. Blissfully, serenely blank.

And then he wrapped his arms around her.

It was only to steady themselves, she realized in
another
humiliated moment of remembrance later. It was the jug in his hand clanking against her head with a dull thud that sent her into such a juvenile swoon, she decided even later. That
was why she couldn’t think properly for several minutes.

Instinctively she pushed away from him, trying not dwell on how firm his stomach was as she used it to brace herself.

“I’m so sorry!” Captain Shin exclaimed. “That child ran in front . . . I didn’t want to hit him, but I hit you instead—”

Filled with sudden sympathy for his anxiousness, Mahrree cut him off. “Not at all!” She rubbed the side of her head vaguely. “No harm done. My bread’s a little flattened, but I like it that way.” It sounded silly as it came out of her mouth, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Is that so?” he replied with an awkward smile. “I like flattened bread, too.” His voice trailed off and he looked down at the ground, his lips twitching as if they had wished something smarter had just left them.

His discomfort comforted her.

She began to notice something different around them. All the usual market noise and talk had stopped.

The captain looked up slowly at her face, then simultaneously they both looked around. The market was now a silent collective smile pointed in their direction. Mahrree estimated more than one
hundred pairs of eyes were staring at them, and it was more unnerving than the thousands at the platform. She chanced a look at the captain.

His face was partly amused and partly pained. She had to fix it.

“So!” she said, a little too loudly but so that everyone around them could hear. “I thank you for helping me not to fall, and I’ll see you tomorrow evening.” She nodded to him formally, then to those around her, and began to march towards home.

In the wrong direction.

No one else moved but instead watched her take seven or eight steps, then abruptly turn to her right and continue in a line that curved around the still smirking villagers. She didn’t even dare look at the captain. She held her breath all the way, hoping she wouldn’t make another wrong turn.

A moment later the marketplace resumed its activity and noise, and Mahrree released a sigh of relief as she reached the edge of the shops to begin her walk home. She shook her head as she slowed her pace.

Stupid! Adolescent! There was
no
possible way he could
not
have noticed her blushing! She still felt flushed and hot, despite the cool breeze coming off the mountains. She couldn’t forget the feel of his arms around her, even if it was for just a moment.

She also couldn’t forget that she couldn’t remember where she lived.

She heard a few heavy footsteps pounding behind her and glanced back. To her surprise Captain Shin was on her heels. Behind him several villagers were grinning and one waved. Mahrree groaned softly as the captain stopped next to her and continued walking along side. She didn’t know what to do, so she kept up her pace.

“Umm,” he started inarticulately, “I’m glad I ran into you, or r
ather, fell, I guess it was.”

He hesitated and Mahrree peeked up into his face. She saw fu
rrowed brows and a man at an unusual lack for words.

“What I mean is, I wanted to see you tonight before tomorrow’s debate.”

Mahrree didn’t know what to answer. He sounded different when he wasn’t in public.

Tender and tense at the same time.

“I’ve felt badly about some . . . actually
many
of the words that have passed between us. You know, we haven’t even been properly introduced? I don’t feel we’ve presented our best sides to each other yet, and I’d like to change that.”

Mahrree was pleasantly astonished. “You’re right. We should’ve been properly introduced. This may be
only
Edge, but we do have some rules of etiquette that we occasionally remember. But oh, that first debate was
so
long ago—nearly three weeks now.”