Corporal Pere Shin, now over his own Company of Ten, and the newest recruit ever to hold that position, tried to walk confidently up the stairs of the command tower. He’d never been up there before, but had heard plenty of stories. For having been in the army for less than three moons, being called up to the command tower was a great honor.
Or great trouble, depending upon the circumstance.
But he’d been an exemplary soldier, as he’d always suspected he would be, although he had yet to make his impression on General Thorne. Not that he didn’t try to meet the man, but something always interfered, just as it had that first time when his horse ran spooked to the fresh spring.
It was as if he wasn’t allowed to face the man. Part of the problem was that half of his Ten were former grassena boys. Each time General Thorne was to give a speech or walk through the troops, one of Shin’s soldiers had an incident he had to take care of. Once one of them was convinced he was a baby and wouldn’t leave the barracks until Shin fashioned him a changing cloth. Then he missed another presentation when one of his men wandered out of the fort and was headed back to the grassy arena. Shin physically dragged him back, and wondered if his size and strength were the reason he was made a corporal so early in his career.
Yet another time, one of his Ten sat near the fort walls and tried to become “one with the grass” by “rooting” himself to the ground. By the time Shin pried him away, with the soldier weeping about “losing touch with nature,” Thorne had finished his lecture and was leaving. Shin never got his opportunity to speak to the general, or even to see him face-to-face.
It wasn’t as if he was frequently where the general would be, either. All he did was patrol the roads with his Ten. Soldiers who had been serving for more than a year got to do the exciting stuff: stationed at the southern and western parts of Thorne’s territory, they were preparing to launch an offensive to reclaim Idumea from General Sargon, practicing with swords, hand-to-hand combat, wrestling—
While Corporal Shin kept peace and order in Province 8 by pacing the roads and making sure people didn’t block the exits at the arena or amphitheater.
Boring. Much like Salem, he admitted to himself on occasion. The world was the same, just . . . different.
Sure, there was the occasional gang of thieving ten-year-olds, and the grassena boys who stole from the rubbish heaps making huge messes Corporal Shin and his men had to clean up—he now understood why soldiers chased him away the first couple of days.
But neither his patrolling abilities nor his Company of Ten, nor even his lack of meeting General Thorne was why he was trudging up the stairs to the command tower this rainy afternoon.
When he reached the forward command office, he knocked nervously on the door frame to get the attention of the major, a man in his early forties, who sat behind the desk. He was engrossed in a report, his lips silently moving, and his brow furrowed as he seemed to struggle with a passage. The major’s head snapped up at the knocking, relieved for the reprieve of trying to sound out something difficult. He greeted Shin with a hopeful smile.
“You’re the one who can do calculations?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good, because I’ve got a mess and I don’t need to mess up again. I don’t know how much your sergeant told you?”
“Not much, sir,” Shin said, trying to hide his trepidation. He’d volunteered to “help with some numbers” only because he was desperate to do something possibly interesting. His Ten joined another group that day, since Shin was required for something important. But if the “numbers” required calculus, which hadn’t been his strength, he was going to create a bigger mess.
“It’s the supply wagons,” the major told him. “The ones which reached General Thorne at Province 4 were not adequately loaded, but I’m telling you, they were. But for some reason, they’re low on boots, blankets, and swords. Now that Raining Season is here, they kind of need some of that. We need to resupply them and, to be honest, Corporal,” he lowered his voice to near a whisper as he scratched the brown curly hair on his head, “figuring isn’t my greatest strength. But Sergeant Onus said it’s one of yours?”
This would be simple enough. “I’m happy to help if I can, sir. What needs to be done?”
“Come with me to the command office. I really don’t need anyone seeing that a corporal is helping me, if you understand.”
“Of course, sir.”
Shin followed the major into the command office and was attacked by a flutter of nerves. After serving for only two and a half moons, he certainly didn’t expect to stand in the Command Office.
He hesitated at the door and stared at the large office, strewn with files. Immediately his attention was drawn to the imposing desk in the middle of the room, with a big chair behind it, and cabinets lining the entire back wall except for where the window was, opening to the southeast. The history of the room detained him in the doorway.
The major was picking up some papers from the desk when he noticed that the corporal wasn’t following him.
“Don’t worry. General Thorne’s miles away and not expected back for a few weeks. That means I have time to clean all of this up, once I figure out what’s happening.”
The corporal nodded uncertainly.
“I know,” the major said sympathetically. “This room has the same effect on everyone. But you’ll get used to it. In fact, you’re going to sit behind that desk, but only because I can then shut the door and no one will see the state of this office. The general’s very particular about not misplacing any files. And when something’s out of order, the entire fort can hear him. Personally,” the major said in a quiet voice, “I’m hoping he’s gone for a very long time.” He grinned as Shin forced himself into the office and headed to the back of the desk.
“Oops, but don’t sit in that chair. Somehow the general knows when someone’s been sitting in it, and he always thinks it’s me.”
The major slid the enormous oak chair over to an unoccupied corner and turned it to face the wall so that no one was tempted to use it.
“And he’s usually right,” he added guiltily. “Take that old one, over there. Just put those files anywhere. I’ll figure out where they belong later.”
Shin obediently lifted the precarious stack of files from the seat of another large chair and tried to place them on the floor in a way that they wouldn’t topple. He then slid the chair as quietly as he could behind the desk.
Something on the armrest caught his eye. It looked like teeth marks, as if something had been gnawing on it.
“Now,” the major said, gesturing to the chair. “Make yourself comfortable, son.”
The tone of his voice changed, as did his stance and cadence.
“I just want to ask you a few questions and I’m sure you won’t have a problem remembering the correct story.”
Corporal Shin stared at him and his odd demeanor, terror building in his gut.
“Ah, come on! That’s dead on. It’s hilarious!” the major said, disappointed.
Shin was baffled. “Sir?”
“It’s the desk. It’s got to be the desk.” The major shook his head at it. “It sucks all the humor out of people.”
Corporal Shin shrugged apologetically.
“I was doing him. General Thorne? I sounded exactly like him.” He struck the pose again, something Corporal Shin had seen only from a distance. The left hand on his hip, his right arm dangling.
“But I’ve never met the general, sir,” the corporal explained. “Sorry.”
“Really? Never met him? He’s pretty thorough about shaking the hands of the soldiers who take the name of Shin.” The major nodded at his name patch.
“I just always seem to miss him, sir.”
“How long have you been serving, anyway?”
“Two and a half moons, sir.”
“And already been made a corporal over ten men? Well done! Must be the ability to do math and count to ten. That’s his chair, by the way.”
/>
Corporal Shin froze. “I thought you moved General Thorne’s chair.”
“I did. I mean, that’s Shin’s old chair you’re sitting on.”
Something in the corporal warmed up slightly, without him wanting it to. His fingers were over the gnaw marks on the armrest, and the idea came to him that his father left those there, over forty years ago.
Toddler Peto accompanied Puggah here—
“I used to do him, too,” the major said. “Want to hear? Although you’ll never know if I got it right, it’s still pretty funny.”
Corporal Shin nodded, afraid to tell him no.
The major cleared his throat and changed his stance, raising one eyebrow.
The corporal held his breath. So far, so accurate.
“Son, I’m concerned about your well-being. Let’s talk.” The major smiled expectantly at Corporal Shin.
He swallowed. Dead on. It could have been hilarious. He tried to smile at the major but the effect of seeing the impersonation jarred him.
The major shook his head sadly. “I blame it on the desk. I’ll do it for you later, outside. It’s always funnier outside.”
“I believe you, sir.”
“For that I thank you. Now,” he said, handing the stack of papers to the corporal. “Here are the details of what I know we sent out four days ago, and the list of what they actually received. I’m supposed to figure out what happened.” He sighed. “Thorne believes that Edge, I mean, Province 8, is the securest fort in the world, so, lucky us, we get to be the northern army’s supply center. This isn’t the first time there’s been a discrepancy.” He waved uselessly to the stacks of papers around him. “I’ve kind of fallen behind in a few things, as you might be able to surmise, and I’m . . .” He suddenly appeared anxious. “Look, Corporal, my future is in your hands. Please don’t fail me or the army,” he implored, and Shin thought it strange for a mature officer to be pleading to a young soldier. “If you fail, I may have to incarcerate you.”
Corporal Shin nodded soberly back.
The major burst into a grin. “Creet, I’m only joking, boy! Can’t lock you for messing up numbers, or I would’ve been gone a long time ago. It’s not like General Thorne’s going to kick me out of the army. Relax a little, soldier. This is a great assignment. Better than marching around Edge in the rain now, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir. Of course.”
The major patted him on the back. “I need to run to the stables to get their numbers. We’ve had a problem with missing tack and saddles. I’m hoping you might be able to figure out something with those as well. You shouldn’t be interrupted here, but I’m going to shut the door anyway on my way out, just in case,” he nodded conspiratorially. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“Sir?”
“You’re thinking, how can a major not do math, right? How did I graduate from Command School?”
“Not really, sir—”
“Good! Because it’s none of your slagging business, boy!” he shouted.
Corporal Shin gulped.
The major rolled his eyes. “Creet, boy, relax! I’m going to get a smile out of you somehow behind that desk, if it’s the last thing I do. By the way, it was my teacher’s fault that I struggle in math. She was terrible. Everything she taught me was completely wrong. But then again, considering who it was, what else could I expect?”
Shin gave him a small, fake smile.
It satisfied the major and he slammed the door behind him.
The corporal let out a long breath and looked around. He was sitting at the desk. In the chair.
His hand ran along the armrest again and lingered at the chew marks. Definitely left by a teething baby. He didn’t know what to think about that. He felt an odd mixture of nostalgia and revulsion, but couldn’t take time to ponder that, because he had a major to impress.
He laid out the pages across the desk and looked at the mess of numbers sloppily scrawled, and digits with no labels.
Loss.
The word came quietly to him and he mentally put it aside for a moment. Over the past many weeks, he’d learned to listen to those little nudges from the right side of his mind, and never had they been wrong. He set to rewriting the numbers and information in a more organized manner, looking for a pattern.
Loss along the way.
Shin stopped and considered the phrase, then went back to work.
Fifteen percent.
Now he knew what to aim for.
He didn’t know how long he spent jotting down numbers, recalculating the major’s columns, matching them to the more careful lists from the supply barns, and tracking the discrepancies, but he was so involved in his work that when someone knocked at the door, he answered without thinking.
“Come in!”
The door swung open. “Lannard, I was—”
But the voice stopped suddenly.
“Oh Creet!” it whispered.
Shin didn’t look up but held up one finger, not wanting to lose his concentration at the end of the long column which already took him five minutes to tally. He was aware someone was staring at him as he finished writing the last numbers, and finally he looked up. “Sorry to put you off there, sir. I didn’t want to lose track again. Can I help you?”
Sergeant Major Hili stood in the doorway with his mouth slightly open, his face ashen. “No, sir!” he answered quickly, then shook himself slightly. “I mean, No, thank you, Corporal. I was looking for Major Kroop.”
“Well you found him,” said a voice coming up the stairs. “Just on my way back from the stables. So I see you’ve discovered my little genius who’s going to fix everything?” The major grinned at Corporal Shin as he came to the doorway.
Sergeant Hili turned slowly to him. “You don’t see it, Lannard?” he whispered. “You, of all people, don’t see it?”
The major shrugged. “See what?”
Sergeant Hili turned back at the corporal, almost fearfully.
Unsure of what had come over the sergeant major, Shin hastily bent over his work again. But he was aware of Hili, nervously shaking his head.
“Nothing,” Hili whispered. “Just don’t ever let Thorne see that.”
Major Kroop chuckled. “Not planning to. I hope to have all of this figured out long before he’s back. What have you got for me so far, Corporal?” The major sat in a chair on the opposite side of the desk and put his feet up on the edge of it.
Sergeant Hili shifted uncomfortably at his casualness.
Corporal Shin cleared his throat and leaned across the desk, holding up a piece of paper. He pointed with the quill to the bottom of the column.
The familiarity of the movements caused Sergeant Hili to suck in his breath. Growing more worried, he shut the door as Major Kroop took the page of notes.
“Sir, could it be that there is . . . loss along the way?”
The major’s feet came off the desk. “What do you mean, loss along the way?”
“Your numbers aren’t off . . . well, not too much, really. Forgot to carry a seven here,” he said, indicating the untidier pages. “Neglected to add this column. I think you might have forgotten to add a couple numbers here . . . But overall, those minor errors don’t account for the lack of supplies that reach General Thorne. Could it be that soldiers are maybe profiteering from the supplies along the way?” Corporal Shin held his breath in anticipation of the men’s reaction.
Major Kroop sighed and glanced up at Sergeant Hili.
Hili nodded back once. “Yes, Corporal,” the sergeant said, unsurprised. “We considered that. We had quite a problem a while ago, and now it seems it’s returned. So now what, Lannard?” he asked the major. “We rearrange all the divisions again to have different drivers of the supply wagons? Thorne won’t be too happy about that.”
“Why not just create a driving corps,” the corporal suggested, “and rearrange their routes weekly? If no one has a consistent route, they won’t be able to maintain their contacts,” h
e repeated the thoughts that had been quietly placed in his mind. “And perhaps some incentives as well? Those whose wagons reach the general untouched receive . . . I don’t know, extra days off? Extra mead?”
Kroop smiled at Shin. “Little genius, I’m telling you!”
Hili wasn’t convinced. “The idea of a driving corps has merit, but it would take a few days to organize that. We don’t have that kind of time for this shipment. We could do the incentives, but I’m not sure they’d be enough. Some of the supplies go for very high rates, worth much more than a bottle of mead.”
“Then . . .” The corporal pondered for a moment. When no solution came to his mind—at least, not a solution he approved of, he came up with one of his own. “Pad the supply wagons, sirs. If we’re losing fifteen percent, then put in an extra fifteen percent so the correct amount reaches the general. Just don’t tell anyone extra has been put in so they don’t sell off more than we expect.”
“I like it!” the major grinned.
But Hili was dubious. “And how will the general react to that? We’re usually short on supplies here as it is. The shortage is going to eventually show up somewhere, sometime.”
The corporal hadn’t considered that.
“We don’t tell him!” Kroop decided.
Hili rolled his eyes.
“General Thorne would figure it out,” Shin agreed reluctantly. “Don’t you think he already suspects this is happening?”
“Yes,” Hili said. “He does. And he’s expecting us to stop it.”
Shin looked down at his numbers again. The only solution he saw was the one being quietly whispered. Since there was nothing else, he asked, “Sirs, when does the next supply train leave?”
“In the morning,” Kroop said. “After the rain stops, hopefully.”
“Why not now?” Shin said. “I’ve already figured out what you need to pack.”
“Because no one wants to travel in the freezing rain, Corporal!” Major Kroop pointed out the obvious. He was good at identifying the obvious.
“And no one would want to profiteer in it, either. Would they?” Shin reminded him.
Hili began to smile for the first time. “We have a lot of rain-shy soldiers. If forced to travel now, they’d most likely go as quickly as possible without any stops. They could be at Province 4 before midnight. I think it’s worth a try.”
Major Kroop grinned and gestured to the corporal. “If this works, I’m putting you in for a promotion! Isn’t he great? And Thorne has yet to meet him.”
Hili’s eyebrows went up. “Really? Interesting,” he said, examining the soldier. “Lannard, why don’t you take the corporal’s numbers and start the soldiers gathering supplies? The corporal and I will be down in a few minutes to help. I wanted to look at some of his calculations again.”
Major Kroop jumped to his feet and grinned at the corporal. “Good work, young man. I’ll see you downstairs in a few minutes.” He snatched the supply list Shin held out and slapped Hili on the shoulder as he bounded down the stairs.
Sergeant Hili continued to analyze the corporal.
Shin swallowed and didn’t know where to focus his eyes. He’d never felt anyone stare at him so keenly.
Hili closed the door, then walked to the desk, leaned across it, and put his face right in front of the corporal’s.
“I remember when you signed up. You kept the name of Shin, I see.”
“Mostly, yes, sir. I changed it a little, though,” the corporal said, trying to look the sergeant in his hard eyes.
Hili nodded slowly. “Boy, do you now remember your real name? Who you really are?”
Shin swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”
“Just to make me feel better, tell me your real name, soldier.”
His mind went blank. It was so hard to remember old lies. “Uh,” he gripped the armrest for support and found himself saying the first thing that popped into his head. “Puggah.”
Hili’s eyebrows furrowed. “First or last name, boy?”
“Clark,” he said quickly, grasping at something else familiar. “Clark Puggah.”
Hili stood back up and made a face as if he smelled something disgusting. “Clark? Who makes up a name like Clark? And I can see why you don’t want to be known as Corporal Puggah.”
Corporal Shin dared a small smile.
Hili relaxed, his smile growing genuinely easy. “Come on, son. Let’s go help Major Kroop. He’s going to need it. Decent enough man, but between you and me, he hasn’t got a lick of sense in him anywhere.”
Ten minutes later the sergeant and the major watched as the young corporal directed the other soldiers in packing the wagon. Somehow he’d taken over the task, recommending that the more valuable items, like swords and blankets, be placed at the bottom, with heavy bags of flour piled on top of them to make swift access more difficult.
Major Kroop elbowed Hili. “Why didn’t a boy like that go into officer training?”
Hili shrugged. “He could still go to Province 6 to the university for a time.”
“No, don’t tell him that’s an option,” Kroop said. “I don’t want to risk losing him. He’s going to make me look good, I’m sure. Let’s find a way to get him assigned to the office.”
“That’s a bad idea,” Hili said in a low voice. “Honestly, Lannard—you don’t see it? Look at him. He’s the spitting image of Shin!”
“Nah, I’m not falling for that anymore,” Lannard said breezily. “I’ve given up the vials for good, now. And I only get the quality mead. But nice try though, Poe.”
Hili gripped his arm. “Lannard, what if they did make it out of the forest?” he whispered. “Seeing him, I can’t help but wonder if Colonel Offra was right.”
“Now you believe that story?” Kroop rolled his eyes. “Offra’s unstable, Poe. I finally believe it, now that everyone keeps telling me I should. How can you believe anything he said?”
Hili sighed and watched the corporal again. Shin was gesturing in a way that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up on end. It was far too familiar.
The major was watching him too. “Besides,” he said, his enthusiasm waning as his surety crumbled, “they couldn’t have had any more children—”
“Grandchildren, Lannard!”
“Oh,” Lannard murmured. “Grandchildren. But why would he come here? And for what?”
“I don’t know,” Hili said, rubbing his hands anxiously. “I really don’t. And why would he be so obvious as to use the Shin name— Oh, what am I saying!” He chuckled tightly. “I asked him his real name before we came down here, and he remembered it.”
Major Kroop looked visibly relieved. “Good. What was it?”
“Puggah.”
Major Kroop snorted a laugh. “Seriously? Puggah? Even Shin is better than that.”
Hili smiled, more at ease as well. “That’s what I thought. Especially when I heard his first name: Clark.”
Kroop started to snort again, but it choked him. Finally he coughed out, “Clark?”
“Yeah. Who makes up such a name for a boy?” Hili shook his head. “I’m going to go give our boy genius a hand.”
The major nodded feebly as the sergeant walked over to the wagons.
“No one gives a boy the name of Clark,” he whispered to himself. “But someone did give that name to his horse.”
Timidly, he peered at the corporal at work.
Put on him twenty-five more years, some touches of gray hair, twenty more pounds of bulk and muscle, and . . .
Suddenly Lannard was sixteen years old again, and he did what he always did as a teenager in serious trouble: he ducked behind a large crate and bit his knuckles to keep from hyperventilating.
---
“Major Kroop, you can’t be serious!”
“I am. For once. I mean, just think about it for a moment, all right?”
Sergeant Onus looked over at Sergeant Major Hili who was slowly rubbing his forehead, his eyes closing i
n fatigue. It’d been a long day, and now it was turning into a very long night.
“I must admit, Major,” Onus said to the trembling man across from him, “I’ve never seen you so disturbed.”
The three of them sat around the large desk in the forward office talking in hushed tones. Despite the darkness of the night, the room glowed like midafternoon. Major Kroop had lit every candle and lantern he could find.
He nodded at the younger sergeant. “Did you ever know Colonel Offra?”
“No, never had the pleasure of him screeching at me, but I’ve heard stories about him. He started having problems shortly after the Shins were killed.”
“That’s right, he did,” Kroop nodded eagerly. “He grew worse and worse over the years. What else do you know about him?”
Onus looked at Hili who nodded encouragingly, if not jadedly. “That Offra believed . . . the Shins were slaughtered in the forest. He found bones. But then he started to say they were still in the forest, like spirits. Eventually he went completely mad. Now he just runs into one fort after fort, shouting and terrifying all of the soldiers.”
“And you’ve heard what he’s shouting?” Kroop asked nervously.
Hili sighed and turned to Onus. “This is where it gets ridiculous.” To Lannard he said, with his last bit of patience, “Look, I wanted to believe Offra. He was a good man, but deeply troubled. That’s why no one’s been able to keep him as an officer. That’s why he’s living off of trash heaps and running from one village to another, spouting like a rancid mud volcano. What happened this afternoon with the boy—that was just coincidence. I shouldn’t have said anything to you. The more I think about it, the less I see the resemblance. Just a coincidence. Just one of those things.”
“No, no it’s not!” Kroop insisted. “You’re the one who got me thinking about it, and now I can’t think about anything else!”
Onus held up his hands. “What is this all about? What does this have to do with my corporal?”
“How much do you know about him?” the major asked urgently.
Onus shrugged. “Not a whole lot. Problems at home. Joined the army to get away. Very obedient, excellent soldier, natural leader. And he’s fantastic with a sword. You should see him. He’ll be great in the offensive on Idumea, if it ever happens.”
Major Kroop had gone completely white. “Fantastic with a sword?”
Hili punched his shoulder. “Lannard, stop it! You’re going to make yourself insane.”
“Would one of you please tell me what this is about?” Onus demanded.
Major Kroop’s hands shook and he pulled a candle closer for its light and warmth. “Offra would say things. That Shin would return. He’d come back to avenge his family.”
Onus raised his eyebrows dubiously, worriedly. “I heard something like that once, but Shin would be in his seventies by now—” He noticed Kroop trembling.
“Not unless he already died,” Major Kroop whispered. “Not unless he died eighteen years ago and was reborn somehow. Not if he came back to Edge, reenlisted, and is waiting to . . . to . . .” Major Kroop licked his lips nervously. “You know it was me, don’t you? It was me who told Thorne things about her? Not that I realized what was happening, you know. I was just giving him information so that I could exercise his horse Streak. Those mentor moments, you know? ‘What did you learn in school today,’ kind of things? But he was writing them down, and sending them to Genev and Chairman Mal, and the next thing I know she’s being accused of sedition, and I was the source of all their evidence! Oh, Creet! Poe, what if he’s coming after me?!”
“STOP IT!” Hili shouted at him. “Get a grip on yourself, Lannard. That boy this afternoon is NOT Colonel Shin come back again.”
Onus’s eyebrows had never gone down. If they could have gone up higher, they would have. “Sirs, while Corporal Shin is a good soldier, I haven’t seen anything in him over the last season that would indicate he’s . . . Colonel Shin. Wouldn’t he know a lot more? There’s a lot I have to teach him.”
“But not if he started out as not knowing who he was. Or maybe he’s faking it!” Kroop insisted. “He’s plotting. He knew we’d have a problem today and . . . Oh, CREET! I did my impersonation of him in front of him! He just stared at me and didn’t laugh!”
Hili couldn’t shake his head any harder. “You’re often just not that funny, Lannard. Would you quit this nonsense? Have you ever, ever heard of someone coming back from the dead and starting over again?”
“No, but maybe it’s something we all do!”
“Then in your previous life you were a complete idiot, Lannard. Next I hope you’ll be a roach so I can stomp on you,” Hili snapped.
Onus fought his smirk. “I never knew Colonel Shin. I was only a boy when he was lost. Sergeant Major, is there a resemblance?”
“Oh yes,” Poe admitted. “Not perfect, but pretty close.”
“Couldn’t he maybe just be distantly related?” Onus suggested. “A couple of years ago we met some cousins of ours. We had the same great-grandparents. But their daughter looked almost exactly like my sister. They could’ve been twins.”
“That could be the case, Lannard,” Hili lightly punched Kroop in the shoulder again, and he nearly leaped out of his chair. “Maybe this Shin is a distant relative who just happens to look like the original. I remember him from when I was a boy. He was about thirty when I first met him, and I promise you, that corporal is not the same man. Eerily familiar, but not the same. And he’s NOT coming to get you!”
“Can you promise me that?” Major Kroop demanded, quaking.
Hili sighed. “As far as I can, Lannard.”
“Is that good enough?” Lannard asked.
“What do you want from me?” Hili raised his voice. “He was of great help this morning. He went straight to work, made YOU look good, which is quite an accomplishment I must point out, and gave us some excellent ideas. He even re-organized some of your supposedly already organized files! Does that sound like something an avenging Colonel Shin would do?”
Lannard bobbed his head stiffly. “Maybe he’s just trying to win us over? Gain our confidence before he . . . before he strikes?”
Now Sergeant Onus rolled his eyes, and sent a sympathetic glance to Hili. “Sirs, I promise I’ll keep a close watch on him for the next few days. See if I see him doing anything . . . colonel-like.”
Major Kroop nodded vigorously. “Excellent, excellent. Please, please do. As soon as you see anything, let me know, will you?”
“Anything like what, Lannard?” Hili asked impatiently.
“I . . . I don’t know. Something Perrin-like.”
---
The next morning Sergeant Onus did his best to keep his promise, but he wasn’t sure what he was looking for in the large young man who was standing supposedly at ease in front of his desk, but was far too rigid. The soldier had been assigned to him after his initial training, and Onus had been happy to take on the natural-born leader. Too many of his soldiers were natural-born layabouts.
“Corporal Shin, how did it go yesterday with the major?” he asked.
“Fine, sir. He just needed someone to fix his math. I found a few discrepancies.”
“He was quite impressed with you.”
“Thank you, sir. I didn’t really do that much except carry the seven.”
“Well, when it comes to Major Kroop, it doesn’t take that much,” Onus said as if he were sharing the worst kept secret in the fort. “Ever since Major Yordin went to take over the western forts for Thorne two moons ago, and Kroop was left in charge of supplies—let’s just say your services may be required again. If you don’t mind? Not exactly what you signed up for, but . . .”
“No, sir, it’s not a problem at all,” the corporal said. Back, straight; stance, perfect; eyes, fixed in the distance; focus, sharp.
Perrin-like?
Onus hesitated. “Uh, Corporal, Major Kroop was wondering about your family.” The sergeant watched Shin’s face int
ently.
There was a slight twitching which the corporal tried to stiffen away. “Yes, sir?”
Onus suppressed a smile. There was something there. Then again, there usually was. Who didn’t have problems with family?
“Your real name obviously isn’t Shin, is it?”
More stiffening. “No, sir.”
“What is it?”
The corporal seemed prepared for this. “Briter, sir. Lek Briter.”
“Briter? I think I’ve heard that before.”
“Yes, sir. Lot of Briter families in the Sands area. Northwestern half of the world is filled with—”
“No . . .” Sergeant Onus said slowly, dragging out from memory the history he’d learned since coming to the fort in Edge. “That’s not where I know the name from.”
“There’s something else,” the corporal offered. “A distant relative of mine was married to the Shin’s daughter. Some of our family was in Moorland a long time ago. My grandmother told me the story once. Most of those Briters moved to Mountseen—I mean, Province 4—after the land tremor destroyed Moorland. I understand I also bear a slight resemblance to Colonel Shin. Probably related there as well, but since no one remembered any family lines, there’s no way I can know for sure.”
Onus relaxed and smiled. “That’s right! So instead of using your real name of Briter when you enlisted, you chose an even worse one?”
Corporal Shin chanced an embarrassed smile. “I was a bit in a fog then. I had just read the Shin name off the boards and suddenly there it was, on my uniform. It just seemed easier to keep it instead of change it again.”
“And then you didn’t give your real name of Briter to the sergeant major yesterday, did you?”
“No, sir,” the corporal sighed. “I’m sorry. I was aware that he knew the family, and I was worried that the name of Briter might upset him. So I made up another name.”
“But it seems that name may have upset Major Kroop even more!”
“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll try to be more careful in the future.”
“Tell me, son, do you ever get confused as to who you really are?” Onus asked with a kind smile.
“Yes, sir,” he confessed. “More often than I care to admit.”
Onus chuckled. “That’s all I needed to know, Corporal. Good work yesterday. They’ll probably use you again, once Major Kroop recovers. Thank you and you’re dismissed.”
---
Corporal Shin saluted and turned smartly out of the office. He walked out into the cold sunshine and marched back to his barracks, turning over the conversation in his mind to think if he said anything wrong. The problem was that he wasn’t sure what the wrong thing was anymore.
He strolled past his barracks, deep in thought. He didn’t have to lead his Company of Ten to their posts at the Edge of Idumea Housing Estates for another few minutes, so he had some time to think about Major Koop. He didn’t realize he’d startled him, although the major did give him an odd look when, after the supply caravan left the compound yesterday, he told the major he was ready to see his impersonation of Colonel Shin again now that they were outside.
Inexplicably, Major Kroop backed slowly into a wall.
But Shin knew he had surprised Sergeant Major Hili when he was sitting at the desk. The entire situation had felt very unusual in a familiar sort of way. Or maybe familiar in an unusual sort of way.
He felt pricks like that frequently, as if part of his mind was suddenly turned on when it saw a face or a building, or heard something, as if he knew it long ago even though he was experiencing it for the first time. It was at those times that Shin did believe in the spirits of the soldiers so many men quietly mentioned. Or, at least, he believed in one bothersome spirit, formerly known as Puggah.
His grandfather seemed to accompany him everywhere, whispering little things now and then that the corporal occasionally listened to. He certainly seemed to be right about that fifteen percent loss in the supplies, so there were times he was helpful.
Then there were times he was decidedly not. Shin had the feeling his grandfather was involved in preventing every possible meeting he could have had with General Thorne by spooking the horse, upsetting his men, or distracting the general from looking in Shin’s direction. The incident with the changing cloth reeked of Puggah’s mischief. It didn’t seem fair that Puggah used susceptible minds to keep Shin away from General Thorne. But he’d run into him, eventually.
And then . . . Well, Corporal Shin wasn’t entirely sure what he now hoped to see in General Thorne’s eyes, because over the past many weeks, he’d found a number of reasons to actually admire the man. He really had overcome a great many hardships, succeeded in battle an astonishing amount of times, and was leading a very difficult northern half of the world in the best ways imaginable, and everything would be even better once he reconquered the southern half and reunified the world.
And, Corporal Shin had to admit, he wanted to help Thorne accomplish that.
The problem was the rest of the forts in the north. Handfuls of soldiers kept causing little rebellions here and there that Thorne had to go quash. It was simple enough to Shin: if every petty person just quit squabbling, then the real work of warfare could begin. Thorne could be marching his entire army south to Idumea and wipe out Sargon, then things could get really exciting. Why, Shin could actually be making a difference in the world, if everyone would stop rebelling.
It was following those thoughts when Puggah was least helpful, when Shin was pricked with the idea, Weren’t you supposed to be the one leading those rebellions against General Thorne?
That was before he understood the world.
Now that he’d been away from Salem, he could see more clearly Thorne’s plan for a unified world, and it was, in short, inspiring. In fact, it was remarkably similar to what Shem Zenos was doing in Salem.
And that’s why, Shin realized, his grandfather didn’t want him to meet Thorne, and why Zenos didn’t want him to go into the world. He’d discover the truth, the real truth: Thorne was simply trying to make the world like Salem, with all the people having the same goals and purposes. And because of the complacency and stupidity of the world, it was a much harder task. Good thing Lemuel Thorne was a much harder man.
Shem must have seen Thorne as a threat all those years ago. That’s why he was tempted to kill him once, and certainly let him slump to the ground when he was recovering from stitching. Shin realized that everyone from Salem let into the world as a scout or rector was wholly devoted to Shem; almost tricked into believing he was the greatest leader, so much so that they couldn’t see the truth about Thorne, the man who had survived countless battles, who had overcome struggle after trial, and who kept rising to the top, no matter what was piled on top of him.
Shem kept a tight control on who from Salem was allowed to work in the world, and also who was allowed to leave it as a refugee. They had to be loyal to Shem, otherwise the rumors of Thorne’s greatness would spread all the way to Salem, and they’d want Thorne to be their leader.
So, too, would the rest of the world if they just spent two minutes thinking about the whole thing. It was the sheep problem, all over again—stupid flocks unable to be as visionary as Lemuel Thorne, fighting against the rod nudging them along instead of recognizing the beautiful pasture the sheepherders were trying to drive them to. Senseless pockets of soldiers in other forts were also too lazy to step up to their duties to fortify their villages so that the offensive on Idumea could happen.
They all lagged behind, putting up fusses about little things, and Corporal Shin almost wished General Thorne would use a stronger hand, a more forceful nudge, to get the rest of the world thinking as they should, as Shin already did.
If they were just pushed in the right directions, surely they’d eventually see the light, just as he had.
Chapter 29--“I’ve lost my touch.”