Flight of the Wounded Falcon

That evening, Mahrree sat at the small table in their gathering room going over the notes she took during her chat with Eltana Yordin. Each year Mahrree updated the History of the World book she wrote and taught out of at the university three times a week for the first-year students, all of the information coming from Salem’s scouts in the world and the world’s refugees.

  She pulled out clean sheets of paper: one, she filled with details to include in the next edition of the History of the World; on another, she made notes about those individuals she and Perrin still remembered.

  Many details that they’d been missing for decades were filled in today, only making the story of the world more tragic. There was no way Mahrree could ever see a happy ending for them, no matter how long she waited.

  Idumea and the world had continued after the Shins “died” for nearly two years, with commandants appointed by the Administrators heading up the forts, and unrest growing throughout the world.

  Gari Yordin, who was transferred to Sands, immediately deposed his commandant and set up barricades to keep away anyone from the Administrators or Idumea.

  His open defiance gave others encouragement, and soon after Brillen Karna, who was sent all the way south to Waves, and Graeson Fadh who was transferred to the east at Coast, kicked out their commandants. It wasn’t an accident that the three remaining leaders in the Moorland offensive were now at the distant points of the world, no longer able to coordinate the takeover that High General Qayin Thorne and new Advising General Snyd had convinced the Administrators was imminent.

  Chairman Mal likely thought sending those three commanders to the furthest edges of the world was a clever idea, but all it did was spread their influence over a greater area.

  Taxes? They wouldn’t pay them.

  Curfews? They wouldn’t enforce them.

  Idumea? Who cares what they think.

  In the rest of the forts, it was clear that the Administrators-appointed commandants had no idea how to run anything except the soldiers in circles. In some villages, commanders sat back and let the commandants do their best, which was dismal, and resulted in insubordination, flagrant rule breaking, and massive desertions.

  By the time the Sergeants’ Army, which was led by Grandpy Neeks and Chef Gizzada, destroyed High General Thorne and the Administrators, and the citizens burned down Chairman Mal’s mansion with him in it, nearly every village had chosen sides, aligning themselves either with forts associated with Yordin, Karna, and Fadh, or forts loyal to Idumea.

  The enlisted soldiers under thirty, who fled from Idumea following Poe Hili and met up with Jon Offra, were divided among Fadh’s and Karna’s forts, and then suddenly that was the end of the united world. It became as violent and fractured as it was before the rule of kings.

  General Snyd aligned Idumea with the fort at Pools, Edge, and a few other central and northern forts. Those in the west followed Yordin, and those in the east and south followed Karna and Fadh.

  No one ever could tell the Shins what happened to Commandant/Administrator Genev in Edge. Shortly after the Administrators and Mal were killed, Genev, the sole remaining Administrator, simply wasn’t there anymore. But Lemuel Thorne was, wearing a new major’s jacket and declaring that he was now in charge of the fort; everything that Genev had done was to be erased and forgotten. No one dared ask any questions about what happened to Genev. Then again, no one was disappointed that he disappeared.

  A couple of years ago Mahrree and Perrin, again updating their notes, mused about that. “Interesting,” Perrin said, “that the last refugees we asked didn’t even recognize Genev’s name. No one in the world now remembers him. He really was erased from memory.”

  Mahrree scoffed lightly. “None of those administrators are ever thought of. For as self-important as they all were, they weren’t important to anyone else in the world. Not even . . .” She was surprised it took her a moment to recall his name, “Gadiman!”

  Perrin chuckled. “You forgot Gadiman’s name?”

  Mahrree folded her arms. “And how many of the administrators do you remember off the top of your head?”

  “Brisack,” he said easily. “Then . . .” He blushed as no other names came immediately to mind.

  “I have them written in my textbook,” Mahrree snickered, “in case you ever want to review the names of those to whom you were presented a few times, and who feared you’d overthrow them.”

  Perrin peered at her. “Is that the only way you know their names? From your textbook? You’re the head of the history department at the university, and met all of the administrators as well, you know!”

  “Met them,” Mahrree acknowledged, “but never had any use for them.”

  The world fumbled along for a while after Mal and the administrators fell, stumbling around like a drunk on a dark night, trying this door, trying that. Citizens were irrational, and even burned down the grand orange-and-red Administrative building, which had reminded Mahrree of a massive pumpkin with red tendrils curling around it. After the blaze, it was reported to the Shins that all that remained was the orange and red stones, like a massive burned out pumpkin which had bled. Idumea now had its own ruin.

  Chaos erupted after that. No one who came to Salem years later could give Mahrree any specific details of what happened two-and-a-half years after they left because no reliable records could be kept. For several seasons, the world was a scene of nonstop violence. Only the frigid Raining Season that year cooled tensions long enough for everyone to look around and see what had happened.

  General Snyd had taken over Idumea and proclaimed himself High General of Idumea, although only a handful of villages were loyal to him, including Edge and Major Lemuel Thorne, who had married Snyd’s niece.

  Since Karna already had a large force down in Waves, the southern forts of Flax, Trades, and Orchards pledged their loyalty to Karna and declared him their High General, of sorts. Fadh agreed to support him as well, bringing with him the allegiance of the eastern forts of Coast, Marsh, and Winds. General Karna promoted him to General Fadh, to serve as his advisor.

  Over on the western side of the world in Sands, Yordin was rallying forts to him as well. He secured Grasses, Scrub, and Quake, and sent messages to Karna and Fadh that they had friends in the west. General Yordin didn’t bother with appointing an assisting general to aid him.

  But cutting through the three generals’ new alliance was Snyd’s forces, all the way north to Fort Shin in Edge. That swath, many miles wide, effectively cut any efforts Yordin could make to join with Fadh in the east to undermine Snyd’s control. Snyd also established a strong presence south of Grasses, cutting off Yordin’s ability to communicate with Karna.

  For the next two and a half years, until 343, Karna and Fadh’s faction tried to destroy Snyd’s hold, while Yordin’s forts did their best to irritate from the west. The commanders were finally using the power given to them years ago as the ultimate authority in the villages.

  There were no more governments, only the forts. There were no more magistrates or chiefs of enforcement, only commanders and soldiers.

  It was then, with the armies of the world battling each other, that Guide Gleace received the prompting that no one was watching the forests, and that scouts could again slip into the world.

  Moving through the forests was quite easy during those years. The soldiers were so busy engaging each other that no one was worried about Guarders. In fact, no one even seemed to mention Guarders for a few years, even though the thieving and looting hadn’t slowed. In villages controlled by Karna and his coalition, rectors were allowed to resume their teachings again, and tiny congregations began to form. All the rectors came from Salem, and the routes north through the remains of Moorland were re-cut. Going through Edge was far too dangerous with Thorne still keeping an eye on the forests—the only person who did—directly north of him.

  Eventually, a few refugees began to trickle north again. Not in the numbers they had before under Shem and Perrin, but a c
ouple dozen each year were found by the rectors and made their ways to Salem for a peaceful life.

  For the next few years the world limped along this way, Snyd and Thorne’s forces against Karna, Fadh, and Yordin’s. Until General Karna went to confront General Snyd about a temporary truce in 352, thirteen years after the Shins left. From what Perrin and Shem could piece together with the reports that reached them, Brillen had been set up by one of his own officers, Major Sargon. He’d been in secret talks with Snyd, seemingly promising him to deliver the southern factions if Snyd would let Sargon control several of the forts.

  And so General Brillen Karna went to the border, thinking he was to establish peace with Snyd. Instead, he was assaulted by a barrage of arrows to the chest from Snyd’s delegation. With his sudden death, Major Sargon nobly took over those forts while General Fadh dealt with unrest in Marsh and Waves.

  But General Fadh suspected Major Sargon of duplicity, and in the meantime, Snyd’s army was moving east to take advantage of Fadh’s weakening position.

  It was less than a year after Karna’s brutal death that Fadh faced Snyd’s armies in open battle, and Sargon rushed up from the south to help. That was when everything took a disastrous turn.

  It was meant to look like an accident—one of those hazards of war when blades and men and horses get all confused, but too many soldiers said Sargon’s sword plunge into Graeson Fadh was deliberate.

  Most of the soldiers who witnessed Fadh’s murder defected and headed north, especially when Fadh’s wife Shaleea turned up dead the day after her husband’s death. With both Karna and Fadh now gone, Sargon took over the southern coalition himself and sent a message to Yordin that he was now on his own in the west.

  All of that left Snyd furious, realizing that Sargon was never about to yield any forts to him. But General Snyd didn’t get an opportunity to get his revenge on Sargon. A year later in 354, Snyd and Thorne had a conflict themselves. Years before, Thorne had married Snyd’s niece, but after she produced only daughters, she vanished. Exactly what happened to her and her girls, no one knew. Shem was sure Lemuel’s wife was still alive, just in hiding.

  But there was probably more to Snyd and Thorne’s conflict than just a disappointing marriage. No one knew exactly what happened, but soon the news spread all the way up to Salem that General Lemuel Thorne was now in control of Idumea and the world northeast. Snyd had vanished, and his men were suddenly loyal to Thorne. Not only did Thorne take over Idumea, he changed many laws, including abolishing any laws pertaining to marriage.

  As for Snyd, Perrin suggested that he likely had fallen into the same cavern that swallowed him and Mahrree fifteen years earlier. Genev was probably down there, too.

  The rectors went into hiding again, and the few, tiny congregations that had existed dissolved, because neither Thorne nor Sargon tolerated any teachings from The Writings, and Yordin didn’t lend the rectors any assistance when his soldiers bullied them.

  But still the rectors from Salem remained, working quietly in the world, chatting with people here and there, checking up on names the Shins remembered and finding a few people each year wanting a better life.

  A handful of brave midwives also continued to go down to the world—always with three or four security scouts—but disappointingly found few women who needed their services. Fewer women were having babies, and many of them elected for the services of sedation and an attendant to catch the baby after a day or two of mother’s unconsciousness. Still, there were always a dozen or so babies they could deliver each year, and occasionally they found other women to teach. The trickle north to Salem continued.

  General Thorne had two major problems when he took over the northern forts: Yordin in the east, and Sargon in the south. And for the past ten years, the three factions had battled each other over control of the world. Villages and forts went to one faction, then to another, then back again. One year Yordin nearly conquered the world, but in the next Thorne took away half of his holdings and reclaimed Idumea. Then Sargon reared up and smashed both of them for several seasons.

  Perrin suggested once it was like watching squirrels fighting over the same collection of nuts, but greatly slowed down.

  What really perplexed the Shins, however, was that no one seemed to want to abandon that pitiful collection of nuts and go in search of a better tree. It didn’t seem that anyone had any desire to explore beyond ‘the world,’ even though the route to Terryp’s land was wide open. For far too long the people had been accustomed to believing that this bit of land was all that was habitable, and it seemed no one was willing to look elsewhere.

  But there was an ‘elsewhere’. The explorers that Salem had sent to the west the year after the Shins arrived came home nearly four years later, appearing in the eastern mountains. They had found the world was large, far larger than any of them had imagined, and the distant ocean in the west did connect to the ocean in the east. Some of the professors estimated the world was nearly 24,000 miles around.

  Another group of explorers sent out the next year to retrace the route came to the same conclusion, and also came back with a wide variety of fruits, nuts, grasses, seeds, and vegetables no one had imagined before.

  They also returned with the news of hundreds of more ruins, bringing back crates full of pages of rubbings that kept Mahrree and others fascinated and speculating.

  It was that realization that the world was so vast, yet only a tiny fraction of it was populated and fought over, that struck the Shins as so tragic. None of the violence in the world to the south had to happen. There was plenty for everyone. But no one wanted to leave what they knew.

  Each time new reports reached Salem, Perrin and Shem were tempted to make hash marks on the wall as to who was prevailing that season. After the first few years, they quit paying too much attention to the dizzying and disturbing changes to the world they no longer knew. Instead, they asked newcomers for references of who else was tired of the fighting and wanted to come “home.”

  Now, in 363, there were only two factions in the world. When Yordin fell, so did his forts. Thorne’s men swiftly moved in and secured all of them. Now there was Thorne in the north, and Sargon in the south.

  That was when Eltana Yordin went into hiding. A soldier who came to Salem a season and a half ago brought the news about Mrs. Yordin’s plight. The soldier had helped secure her in a small house on the outskirts of Sands before he ‘vanished’.

  The day after he arrived in Salem and told Guide Zenos and General Shin about her situation, Shem sent word to Nan’s husband Honri to find her. Honri had been serving as a rector in the northern half of world for a couple of years, ever since his wife Nan died, and had found Mrs. Yordin ready to leave everything her husband had lost.

  Honri would return to Salem before Snowing Season, trying to find anyone else who wanted to come home first, and also working with some troubled young men to get them into better situations.

  Mahrree looked at her notes and sighed. There were still many years unaccounted for, many names whose ends she didn’t know.

  Mrs. Karna was too far south to safely send anyone to find her, if she were still alive. Guide Zenos had already inquired that of the Creator and received the answer that attempting her retrieval would cost many lives, with none saved.

  Mahrree wondered also about Mr. Hegek and his family. She knew his wife had died a few years ago, but nothing more about Mr. Hegek or his son, daughter-in-law, and grandson.

  She also worried about Qualipoe Hili. He’d served in the south for many years under Karna, but after that faction fell to Sargon, no one heard anything more of Poe. Either he’d left the army—citizens were much harder for the scouts to locate—or he, too, had passed away.

  Then there was Teeria Rigoff and Milo. Well, not Milo anymore. He’d been killed, too, by Sargon’s allies, shortly after Fadh had been lost. Teeria was somewhere in the south, alone in enemy territory, just as Eltana had been. It was harder to get scouts into the
south, especially females and midwives.

  And then there was Jon Offra. He’d returned to the world, promising Shem and Perrin he would keep their secret, and he did, most admirably. The fear of the woods north of Edge had never been greater. The stories Offra told were very effective.

  In the years that followed, they heard of Offra’s rise in the army, all the way to colonel, under General Fadh. But he was unstable, always moved from one fort to another, where he’d start off strong, then end up terrifying soldiers by screeching that the forests were haunted.

  Since Fadh died, Jon Offra had been something of a colonel-at-large, still wearing the uniform, and still rushing into forts all over the world to shout his warnings. Sargon, Yordin, Thorne—none of them knew what to do with him, nor could any of them catch him. And, in a way, he was doing all of the commanders a favor by reminding their soldiers about loyalty and devotion and death.

  Some years ago, Shem and Perrin decided to bring Offra home. Four times now they’d tried to bring him to Salem, but failed. He recognized the scouts for who they were and beat them off. Still, they weren’t giving up. Jon would come home, one way or another. First they had to find him.

  Eltana said she’d seen him in Sands about a year ago, but couldn’t carry on a coherent conversation with him. But where he was now? Since the man seemed to wander from village to village with no discernible pattern, sightings were sporadic, and predicting where he’d turn up next, impossible.

  Mahrree sighed at her list of “Where are they?” putting yet another small question mark next to Jon Offra, and drawing another final line under Yordin.

  “Thorne did that,” said Perrin behind her, startling her. “I’m sure he had Yordin killed off.”

  He bent down and looked at her notes.

  “Ironic, isn’t it,” he said quietly. “Of all the officers I knew, I was the first to ‘die,’ but now I’m the last one alive. Yordin was the last of the greats from the offensive at Moorland. I still can’t believe his son left him for Thorne.”

  “Many people have been deceived over the years, Perrin,” Mahrree said. “Who knows what he was thinking, and how long Thorne had been working on swaying him to Edge. Province 8. Whatever it’s called.” She rolled her eyes. “What was the point of that, giving each village a random number? The numbers aren’t even in any logical order.”

  Perrin shrugged. “I have to confess the random numbers are rather clever on Thorne’s part. If the south tries to invade, they’ll be confused as to which village is what, since they don’t follow numerically. Province 13 comes after Province 2 along the Idumean River, and before 16? Maddening. As for the renaming of all the villages, I can take a guess. Thorne’s trying to force unification again. He has to have all seventeen villages labeled in a way that sounds like they belong together. If you’re missing one-third of the numbers, it means you’re missing part your kingdom. Or whatever he plans to call it should he succeed.”

  “Or general-dom? Now that really would be ironic, Perrin, if Lemuel Thorne tries to make himself head of everything. In so many ways he tried to follow in your footsteps, but he kept misreading the directions you intended to go.”

  Perrin whispered so quietly he didn’t think his wife heard him, but she did, and his words chilled her.

  “I should’ve let that Guarder kill him at Moorland.”

  Mahrree knew it would be a rough night. He never slept well when someone brought the world back to his house again.

  ---

  Only part of the Shin family was seated to breakfast in the morning when the knock at the door came. Some of the older children were already doing chores or picking the berries from the bushes along the orchard. But at the table, eating breakfast later than usual, was Perrin and three of the younger grandchildren.

  When thirteen-year-old Kew escorted Mrs. Yordin into the eating room, Perrin stood up in surprise.

  “Eltana. Everything all right? Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind and want to go back already.”

  She smiled. “No, not at all. The women I’m staying with are absolutely delightful.” She motioned for him to sit back down. “Perrin, I want to talk to you.”

  Perrin remained standing. “Shall we go to my office? We can speak in private.”

  Mrs. Yordin shook her head. “I don’t want to interrupt your breakfast. Besides, what I have to say may be of interest to your family.” She looked in earnest at the three children at the table.

  Perrin gestured at the chair opposite of him, and Kew stepped over to pull it out for her. Mrs. Yordin sat down and Kew darted out the side door to do his morning chore.

  “That one must be the other who’s becoming another Perrin Shin,” Mrs. Yordin said, nodding to where Kew had been standing a moment ago.

  Perrin smiled. “But he’s more sober and less brash, so he’ll become like me in looks only, fortunately.”

  Mrs. Yordin nodded politely at Morah next to her, and opened her mouth to address Perrin, but Morah said, “Potatoes, ma’am?”

  “No thank you, dear. Perrin, I did some thinking about—”

  “Applesauce, Mrs. Yordin?” Morah held up a bowl.

  “Uh, I already ate, dear. But thank you, anyway. As I was saying, Perrin—”

  “Bread?”

  Centia, her nine-year-old sister, leaned over. “She said she already ate, Morah! Leave her be to talk to Puggah.”

  “But it’s really good,” Morah said, giving Mrs. Yordin her best brown-eyed fawn look. “I helped Hycy make it.”

  Mrs. Yordin sighed and smiled. “All right, I’ll take a slice.” She turned back to Perrin again, ready to speak, but not fast enough.

  “Wheat or barley?” Morah asked.

  Perrin's shoulders began to shake with silent laughter as he offered no help to Mrs. Yordin.

  Mrs. Yordin sighed at the little girl. “What, dear?”

  “Which do you like better, wheat or barley?”

  “Well, which did you help make, dear?”

  “Both!”

  Perrin chuckled as he took another bite of his bread.

  Mrs. Yordin narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ll have what Puggah is having.”

  “Are you sure? Because I might have sneezed on the barley bread. Before it was baked, though, so it’s all right now.”

  Twelve-year-old Hogal rolled his eyes and pushed the basket of wheat bread to Mrs. Yordin. “Then this one’s safer, ma’am,” he told her.

  The kitchen door opened, and Mahrree and Lilla came in.

  Mahrree sat down next to Perrin and nodded to Mrs. Yordin. “Everything well, Eltana?”

  But Lilla put her hands on her waist and looked at her daughter. “We heard you through the door, young lady. You have chores to be doing. I’m sorry, Mrs. Yordin. Morah tends to be an over-eager hostess.”

  Perrin smiled. “She gets that from her other grandmother. I gain weight just thinking about Mrs. Trovato.”

  Mahrree patted his belly and smiled. When he tried on his old colonel’s jacket for their families’ anniversary discussion last season, there was some considerable breath-holding that occurred as he attempted to fasten the middle buttons. But at least Shem had the same problem with his jacket. They agreed the tightly woven wool must have shrunk over the years.

  Mrs. Yordin chuckled politely as she took some of the wheat bread. “She’s fine.”

  Morah watched her expectantly, waiting.

  Perrin smirked. “See why we didn’t have the entire family to midday meal when you first arrived?”

  Mrs. Yordin took an experimental bite and nodded enthusiastically at Morah. “It’s very good.”

  “Want some more?”

  “Morah!” Lilla said sharply. “Eggs!”

  Morah sighed as she pushed away from the table, then her face brightened. “Mrs. Yordin, I could make you some eggs when I’m done gathering them. I’m doing better at keeping the shells out.”

  “Oh,” said Mrs. Yordin, “I think I’ll be quite filled up with t
his delicious bread.”

  “Now!” Lilla said to her youngest child.

  Morah picked up her plate and brought it to the kitchen before leaving for the chicken coop.

  Through the swinging door of the kitchen came in Young Pere and Peto, both looking weary. They sat down at the table and nodded a welcome. “Mrs. Yordin,” they both said politely.

  “Does it ever end around here?” she asked as Young Pere and Peto pulled plates toward them and started helping themselves to the food on the table.

  “Of course it does,” Lilla smiled. “This morning is just unusual. Normally we’re all up and out of the house by now and taking care of work, but we had a bit of an unsettled night. Still, it’s good for us to have a lazier morning every now and then,” she said cheerily. “Listen to the birds sing!” She patted Perrin’s shoulder as she passed on her way to pick up some dirty dishes someone forgot to bring to the kitchen.

  Perrin gave her an appreciative smile.

  “Then perhaps this isn’t a good time?” Mrs. Yordin said hesitantly.

  But Perrin shook his head. “For you, I’m available anytime.”

  “Thank you. As I was saying, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I didn’t sleep much last night—”

  “There’s a lot of that going around,” Perrin said quietly.

  Mrs. Yordin looked at him carefully for the first time. She hadn’t noticed until then how baggy his eyes were, as if he had been up half the night. Mahrree wore the same look, as did Peto and Lilla, who came back into the eating room from the kitchen. They all smiled encouragingly at her.

  Mrs. Yordin leaned forward. “Well, then . . . Perrin, how many grandsons do you have?”

  Perrin sat back, startled by her question. “Thirteen.”

  “How many are legal age, or close to it?” She glanced over to Young Pere who sat only slightly more easily in his chair this morning.

  Perrin’s brows furrowed. “That would be about . . . eight.”

  Mrs. Yordin nodded. “And granddaughters with husbands? How many?”

  Now Perrin was mystified, but he still answered. “Uh, three. Will be four at the end of the season when Hycy marries.”

  “Good, good. And Guide Zenos? How many sons? Legal age for the world?”

  “Three.”

  Mrs. Yordin nodded, looking vaguely at the table. “But one’s married to your granddaughter, so he’s already been counted. Could still be enough . . .” she mumbled.

  Perrin, Mahrree, Peto, Lilla, Young Pere, Centia, and now fifteen-year-old Kanthi who came into the room all looked at each other in confusion.

  Hogal shrugged, picked up his plate, and left for the kitchen. He wasn’t anywhere near adulthood.

  “With Peto and the other one . . . Deckett was his name, I believe,” she continued to murmur, “that makes . . . eighteen men. Eighteen would be enough, since Moorland’s gone, although Thorne inanely named the ruins Province 0, plus Idumea—”

  Perrin leaned forward across the table. “Eighteen men for what, Eltana?”

  She looked up into Perrin’s eyes. “I know what must be done now. The time is right. Perrin, you need to go back to Idumea!”

  Someone at the table dropped a fork.

  Perrin’s eyebrows shot up. “Go back?”

  Mahrree couldn’t even gasp in surprise. She just stared at Mrs. Yordin who had eyes only for Perrin.

  “Yes! Back to the world, Perrin! The time is right to reunify the world, and the world would come together under Perrin Shin!”

  Perrin sat back and scoffed. “Eltana, that’s absurd—”

  “No, no it’s not! Think about it, Perrin: Thorne took over Gari’s forts, but no one was happy about it. They were looking for someone to rebel against him, but everyone’s terrified of Thorne. But Thorne would be terrified of you. What if General Shin suddenly came back to the world, risen from the ‘dead’ with an immense army from Salem behind him? Guide Zenos could help. You could kill the stories as effectively as they killed you. Just seeing you would convince the world that Thorne was a liar and undermine his credibility. Then with the north forts and provinces behind you, you could easily take over the south forts and lead Idumea as it should be!”

  Perrin shook his head slowly. “Eltana, Eltana. I told you yesterday I would be a terrible king—”

  “But with the guide next to you?” she said, full of enthusiasm. “You said he was the only one that could do it. So let him help!” Table slap. “And each of your sons and grandsons and in-laws could lead the different villages. Just think if there was a descendant of the Shin and Zenos families in every village raising their children, representing their fathers—think of the peace you could bring! Perrin, you could be the greatest general the world ever saw!”

  At the end of the table, Peto put his hand over his mouth, as if to stop Eltana’s words, or hold in his own. His eyes locked with Lilla’s as she slowly sat down to stare back at him.

  Perrin reached over and took Mrs. Yordin’s hand. “Eltana, look at me—I’m seventy-two. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m not exactly a young man anymore. I’m not even middle-aged. I’m old.”

  “I am looking at you, and I’ve never seen such a fit seventy-two-year-old man,” she declared. “You haven’t seen the quality of soldiers the world now has—flabby, lazy, weak, undisciplined. Look at your grandsons!” She glanced at Young Pere again and her eyes lingered on him for a moment before she turned back at Perrin. “I met many of them yesterday, and they’re in far better shape than any soldiers I ever saw. In just a few weeks you could teach them enough to march down to the world—”

  “No!” Perrin said decisively. “That’s not the Creator’s will. Eltana, we don’t even have weapons. Only long knives used for butchering animals and pitchforks used for cleaning their stalls. We’re not a war-like society, nor should we be. I’m here to secure Salem, not take over Idumea. I’m General Shin in title only. There’s no real army, Eltana. Just citizens who can defend their houses from lost soldiers who might accidentally wander over here. Maybe.”

  Mrs. Yordin was not to be deterred. “Then make an army! The sisters I live with and I were talking about it last night. They told me how much everyone in Salem loves this family, loves you. Say the word and you’ll have an army at your disposal, we’re sure of it!”

  Perrin sat back and rolled his eyes.

  But Mrs. Yordin plowed on. “There are plenty of men here who served for a time who could help train, lots of scouts who know how to get in and out, and every young man I’ve seen so far in Salem is as strapping as Young Pere there. Arm them with pebbles and they’d still win against the clumsy swords and aimless arrows of the current army! By the beginning of Harvest, you could be ready. Perrin, how do you know securing Salem doesn’t mean destroying the threat of the world? You did it in the Moorland offensive. You saw the threat, and you went after it. Do it again! For Gari, for Karna, for Fadh! For all of us who have suffered—”

  Perrin pushed away from the table and stood up. “This is madness!” He ran his hands through his hair and paced the floor. “You want revenge, don’t you? For what happened to Gari and your son. And you’re trying to use me to get it!”

  She slapped the table. “Yes, I want revenge! I deserve justice—we all do. Your family as well, for all the slander against you. This is why I had to come here: to find you and convince you of your duty to the world.”

  He stopped in midstride and pointed at her. “Don’t you dare,” he snarled, “try to tell me about duty, Eltana!”

  Anxiously his family watched him rub his forehead, turn sharply, and pace again. They weren’t accustomed to seeing their Puggah so agitated.

  “You . . . you don’t know what you’re suggesting,” Perrin waved uselessly. “I can’t do this!”

  “Why not?” Mrs. Yordin demanded. “Because you’re afraid you’re rusty after twenty-five years?”

  “No!”

  “Because you’re too comfortable here in Salem, sitting in
this easy life?” her voice grew louder.

  “NO!”

  “Because you really wanted to abandon us? You live here in luxury—”

  “Luxury!?”

  “Yes, luxury!” she insisted. “Not of gold, but of family and home and peace. We’ve had none of that! That’s it, isn’t it? You’re afraid to see just how horrible the world is, what condition you left us in!”

  Perrin stopped his pacing and glared at Mrs. Yordin.

  Mahrree shrunk in her chair. She hadn’t seen that expression on his face in many years.

  Mrs. Yordin seemed to get a little smaller too, but living with Roarin’ Yordin for so long had taught her how to hold a steely gaze.

  “I did not abandon Idumea,” Perrin seethed quietly. “It betrayed me and killed my father and mother. It passed laws illegally in order to kill my wife and planned to imprison me and my son.”

  He ignored the shocked looks on his grandchildren’s faces and leaned across the table toward Mrs. Yordin, who admirably didn’t budge.

  “Captain Thorne, we found out later, gave an order to my former soldiers to murder my son-in-law so he could take my expecting daughter—”

  Now the grandchildren exchanged stunned looks, and Lilla bit her lip. She wished she had sent all of them out for eggs. The younger ones didn’t know all of these details.

  “—and all of that gave us no other choice than to leave. I told you before, Eltana: Idumea destroyed itself. I did not cause it, nor can I fix it now!”

  “How do you know?” Mrs. Yordin challenged hotly. “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because I fought that battle LAST NIGHT!” Perrin roared.

  Mahrree hid her face behind her hand.

  “And I LOST.”

  Peto looked down at his plate, as did Lilla.

  Their children exchanged uncomfortable looks. They knew about their grandfather’s occasional ‘unsettled nights’ which occurred each time someone from the army came from the world. A few of the children in both families had been unfortunate enough to wake up to find their beloved Puggah standing over their beds holding a stick or broom handle as if it were a sword.

  Last night, Young Pere was terrified awake by a shouting General Shin in his bedroom.

  “I know what will happen if I go back, Eltana,” Perrin struggled to keep his voice from trembling. “We won’t be successful. And they always go for the most vulnerable ones first,” his voice cracked.

  “Perrin!” Mahrree said sharply. She offered her grandchildren what she hoped was a reassuring smile. But by the looks of horror on her granddaughters’ faces, she needed more practice.

  She reached over, took her husband’s hand, and gently pulled him back to his seat.

  He sat down slowly, still staring at Mrs. Yordin.

  “My home is Salem,” he told her. “I will not leave it. Not for the whole world.”

  Mrs. Yordin’s chin quivered. She obviously was hoping for a more agreeable response. “What if Guide Zenos told you to go?”

  Perrin sat quietly as every pair of eyes watched him. Finally, he said, “Eltana, you must excuse me now. My sons, grandsons, great-grandsons, brother, nephews, and grandnephews leave in just three days for one of our trail marking trips. There are still many preparations that need to be made. I hope you enjoy the bread. I’m fairly certain that’s not the batch Morah dropped on the floor. But she baked it after, so it doesn’t matter.”

  Perrin stood up and walked out of the house.

  ---

  That afternoon at a small and neat house north of the Shin-Briter Eztates, a young man knocked at the door.

  It was opened by an elderly woman.

  “Is Mrs. Yordin in?” the young man asked.

  The woman smiled at him. “Eltana,” she called behind her, “we should have had you move in long ago. We’ve never had such a steady stream of men at our door before!”

  The young man turned pink and the elderly woman chuckled.

  Eltana Yordin came to the door and sucked in her breath. “I don’t think I will ever get used to seeing your face. It’s like going back in time. Come in, Young Pere, please. Somehow I knew you’d be coming by.”

  Young Pere hesitated as the elderly woman stepped aside to let him in. “Only if you have time—”

  “For you, Perrin—I mean, Young Pere—I’ll always have time.”

  Young Pere followed her into the gathering room and sat down on the chair she gestured to.

  Mrs. Yordin’s elderly housemate closed the gathering room door behind them as Mrs. Yordin sat on the sofa opposite of Young Pere. She smiled in anticipation.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Lieutenant Perrin Shin?” She winked.

  Young Pere opened his mouth, but then didn’t know how to begin. He wasn’t expecting that wink.

  Mrs. Yordin sat back. “Can I say something first, Young Pere?”

  He nodded. Maybe her comment could get him started.

  “I have to confess, seeing you actually fulfills a fantasy I had as a girl.”

  No, Young Pere decided, this wasn’t going to help him much.

  “You see, when I was twelve we lived in Orchards, and my parents took me on a trip to Idumea to visit the greatest city in the world. But all I wanted to see was one particular young man who every girl in the world knew about—Perrin Shin.”

  Now Young Pere’s eyebrows went up and he felt himself growing hot.

  “He was about seventeen years old at the time, just like you, and was rumored to be the most handsome—”

  Young Pere was now fully red.

  “—and eligible young man. The future High General of the world: tall, dark, and built, with shoulders out to here. An older girl in my school had been at the garrison with her father earlier and saw him. She said all the stories about him were true. She tried to get close enough to meet him, but apparently he had several girls following him around, each hoping for a private moment with him.” Mrs. Yordin narrowed her eyes. “No girls follow you around, Young Pere?”

  He decided to tell her, “Only with bandages. Usually my sisters and cousins.”

  Mrs. Yordin laughed. “Oh, if only I were fifty years younger!”

  Young Pere shifted on his chair, beginning to rethink his visit.

  Mrs. Yordin noticed. “I’m sorry. You know, I never did glimpse him when I was twelve. But I sure do see him now. I thank you for that, and I apologize for embarrassing you.”

  Young Pere smiled, aware that she was watching for his grandfather’s grin. He might as well let her have it. “That’s all right, Mrs. Yordin. I never realized . . . there were stories about him?”

  “There have always been stories about him. From the time he was a teenager until now. No man is more storied in the world than your Puggah. Is that what you came to talk to me about?”

  “Sort of. Mrs. Yordin, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what you said this morning at breakfast, about Pugg—about General Shin returning to the world. Do you really think he should?”

  Her hand slapping the sofa didn’t sound very loud but it caught Young Pere’s attention.

  “I never thought I’d see the day when Perrin Shin would back away from a fight!” she declared. “Salem has made him weak. Have you ever seen him with a sword?”

  “We don’t have swords here, ma’am.”

  She blew out in exasperation. “He was born to wield a sword, Young Pere. Gari told me about his strength and his speed. When he set his sights on a man, he might as well have dropped dead before Shin ever got to him, because he wouldn’t survive the encounter.”

  Young Pere leaned forward, realizing he’d found what he’d been looking for. “They don’t tell us those details on the rare days when we talk about the world. I know he took out a few men—”

  Cushioned slap. “And how! Dozens and dozens! He was great and deadly. Even with a bow and arrow, and long knives.” She leaned forward to match his pose. “You really don’t know?”
>
  “He likes to leave the world in the world.”

  “Have you read your Aunt Calla’s book? I was thumbing through a copy last night, and it’s all there, up until he left.”

  Young Pere shrugged guiltily. It never seemed interesting until now. “I suppose I should check our shelves for a copy. Mrs. Yordin, this morning he said something about Thorne?”

  “You really don’t know?” she repeated.

  “I know a Thorne served with him for a little while, and that his father became the new High General, but it sounds like there was a lot more. You see, Puggah and Muggah tell us the story of when they came to Salem when we’re thirteen. But I always felt they glossed over a lot of details.” Young Pere hesitated. “Mrs. Yordin, how much do you know about my grandfather, about some sleeping problems he had in the past?”

  She sat back, her brow furrowed. “Only more stories, Young Pere. But by the look on your face, those were true.”

  Young Pere nodded. “Whenever someone from the world comes here, he relives it. He thinks he’s in a battle and he acts it out in the middle of the night. Usually he’s shouting about Guarders.”

  Mrs. Yordin covered her mouth. “I thought he’d be over that by now,” she whispered. “Karna told us what Zenos reported to him, about his nightmares of his parents. Oh, Perrin. Must be terrifying.”

  Young Pere wondered who the Perrin was to whom she referred. “You could say that,” he scoffed lightly. “Usually he’s shouting or he thinks we’re dead and he tries to revive us. That’s not the most pleasant way to wake up, I assure you. My cousin Holling Briter used to have nightmares about Puggah having nightmares. Last night I woke up to find him standing over my bed with a fire poker, yelling about Thorne, something about him staying away from his children. So what more is there to him besides being Puggah’s captain? And was he really after my Aunt Jaytsy?”

  Mrs. Yordin looked as if someone had let all the air out of her. “Oh, Young Pere . . . I don’t know everything. And if your father and grandparents have never told you the details, then I shouldn’t—”

  “Please, Mrs. Yordin, I really want to know.” He sat back and sighed. “I’m old enough to know about my family’s history. All of it, not the washed and dried version Muggah teaches at the university.”

  Mrs. Yordin tipped her head. “You have a reason, don’t you?”

  “I do, Mrs. Yordin.” And now he pulled out his ability, as he liked to think of it. He hadn’t thought he’d need it on an elderly woman, but realizing she had information and connections—and a lingering crush on someone who looked a great deal like him—he decided it couldn’t hurt.

  So he tipped his head to the side, dipping it down a bit so that when he looked up at her, it’d be through his dark lashes. Raising his eyebrows slightly always helped, too. At least, it did on females fifteen-years-old.

  “I need to construct an argument,” he began, making sure to lower his voice even deeper. He could hit that gravelly spot, too. “You see, when a man finishes a year at the university and turns eighteen, he starts looking for a wife and begins studying for his first profession. The wife can wait, but my father won’t let me do what I want to do. There’s only a season left until I’m of age and I need to convince him.” Eyebrow raise.

  Mrs. Yordin watched him intently, amusedly. “So what do you want to do?”

  He leaned forward and hiked up one side of his mouth into an impertinent grin. “I want to be a scout. I want to go down to the world, but,” he sighed sadly and blinked a few times, “Papa and Uncle Shem say it’s too dangerous for a Shin, and that I should never mention it to my grandparents. Uncle Shem said I could go on the expedition he’s sending to the eastern ocean, but that’s not what I want to do. I want to go south. You understand, don’t you?”

  Mrs. Yordin nodded vaguely, just like the girls.

  “I don’t care about unexplored lands. I want to see what your world really is all about. I’ve always suspected they never told us everything, and now I know they haven’t. I just want to know for myself, Mrs. Yordin. And I’m hoping that you—” he flashed what he considered a full, yet subtle, grin, “can help me.”

  Mrs. Yordin exhaled as if coming out of some unexpected trance. “Oh, you are good!” she declared with a chuckle. “You are certainly your grandfather’s boy. I’d heard those stories about him, too.”

  Young Pere tipped his head the other direction. “What stories?”

  “That he could charm the bloomers off a gi—” She stopped, seeing Young Pere’s bemused and innocent expression. “Um, off a goat, if goats wore bloomers,” she said hurriedly.

  Young Pere knew there were strange customs in the world, and he supposed dressing up goats was simply another one.

  “Besides,” Mrs. Yordin continued uneasily, “I’m sure Perrin hasn’t been goat charming for many decades now, and I’ve always felt one’s youthful indiscretions should be allowed to die along with one’s youth.”

  Young Pere, following only bits of what she was alluding to, picked up on the last of it. “So you agree that a youth like me should have the opportunity to have a few indiscretions?” He hoped it sounded right.

  By the growing smile on her face, it did. “Indeed I do. Especially a charmer like you. I suppose Salem is too virtuous to allow for such adventurous dalliances?”

  Slowly Young Pere nodded, still not understanding what she was talking about, but knowing his response was what she was looking for.

  Then she seemed concerned. “Oh, but with that face, that body, those shoulders, that name of Perrin—there’s some danger, I have to agree with your uncle and father. Then again,” she tipped her head to match his imploring gaze, “only people in my generation might recognize your heritage, and there are very few still alive who would have seen and remembered your grandfather when he was young. The chances of any of them seeing you and making the connection . . .” She sat taller with fresh hunger in her eyes. “You know, you could change your name. You could be a scout at my husband’s fort in Sands and find out what’s happening!”

  Young Pere sat back, only so that he could focus his gaze fully on Mrs. Yordin. She was, after all, only a young girl at heart, meeting the young man of her dreams. “I could do a great many things, Mrs. Yordin,” he said self-assuredly. “I just need the opportunity.”

  “Yes, yes, you could.” Her gaze turned almost condescending. “But I don’t think you realize how easy it is to be confident in a cozy place like Salem. You know nothing of the world, do you?”

  He held in his cringe, tired of hearing that from his elders. “But Mrs. Yordin, why can’t you tutor me? Surely no one has such expertise as you.”

  It was working. She was blushing with pride.

  “You could prepare me. Teach me all about what it means to be an officer in the army, to be like your husband.”

  That one definitely hit its mark. She was now beaming. Maybe if he nudged just a tiny bit more—

  “What kind of man did you expect your son to become? Teach me to be that man.”

  Mrs. Yordin scoffed a chuckle. “Oh, indeed you are slick. Already you know how to manipulate your audience, almost as deftly as Lemuel Thorne. Yes, you could do it, but I still worry that you won’t understand the world. You have no idea just how easy you have it here.

  “Many would give their lives—are giving their lives—to have what you have,” she told him, staring deep into his eyes. “Your people have so much more knowledge. Why, just this afternoon I started to read a book written by one of your scientists. I had no idea there were other spheres like ours going around the sun.

  “No one in Idumea knows how to look at the night sky and tell the difference between a sphere—planet, I think it’s called—and stars like our sun. The best the world can do is identify constellations like the Great Turnip and the Sideways Swordsman. The world is obsessed with survival, Young Pere, and nothing beyond. That scientist has even calculated how fast light moves? I just thought it was. I never befor
e considered that light travels at a certain speed!”

  Young Pere nodded wearily. “Must be Oromer’s book. He teaches at the university. Every year he and Professor Eints try to get the first year students to debate what the world would look like if someone could travel at the speed of light on the back of a horse.”

  “Such ideas!” Mrs. Yordin breathed.

  Young Pere rolled his eyes. “Eints asked me what I thought it would look like, and I told him, ‘Blurry.’ He said that was a very unoriginal answer. I mean, what’s the point? It’s all just thinking and speculating. Mrs. Yordin,” he leaned forward to hold her gaze, “it’s just not real. It’s dull.”

  She tipped her head, almost like a flirting girl. “That’s just not Perrin Shin’s style, is it? Men with that name need excitement, a challenge, a conflict. Idumea used to be relatively peaceful under your great grandfather, but with just enough conflict to keep men like you entertained. You need that now, don’t you, Lieutenant Shin?”

  “You know what I need, Mrs. Yordin,” he told her earnestly, almost feeling bad for manipulating her so, but the old woman seemed to be enjoying herself. “I need to get out of here. Just for a couple of seasons to stretch my wings. Sometimes I feel so trapped. You get it, right?”

  Mrs. Yordin squinted at him. “Wings? Trapped. Like a falcon in a barn?”

  Her phrasing caught him off guard. “Yeah . . . I guess you could say that. Interesting analogy.”

  “You have no idea, boy,” she whispered.

  “So tell me? Please? Teach me what I need to know so that I can go back to Roarin’ Yordin’s forts and begin to turn this world around. For my family name, and for your revenge.”

  Mrs. Yordin grinned and slapped the sofa. “There’s my Perrin Shin!”

  Chapter 5--“I got to watch a falcon for quite a while.”