Flight of the Wounded Falcon

Half an hour later on the trail, Young Pere watched his ‘wearying’ grandfather walking alongside him. He wasn’t even using his walking staff. Well, not in the way it was intended. He swatted bushes and tapped a few trees, and occasionally used the hooked end to try to catch the arm of one of his grandsons or nephews.

  “I could become a shepherd when I get older, like the elder Boskos Zenos,” he mused out loud. “I see the appeal of wrangling wayward sheep. Oops, sorry about tripping you up there, Vid. Guess I need more practice. Again, Viddrow? If you’d just keep up a good pace . . . oops.”

  But he certainly didn’t seem to be ‘wearying’ that he needed to match pace with an equally ‘weary’ Young Pere. Still, Young Pere wasn’t about to let this opportunity go to waste.

  “So Puggah,” he started quietly once the pack began to spread out along the trail, leaving the two of them somewhat alone, “when do I hear the rest of the stories?”

  “What stories, Young Pere?” Perrin swatted at another shrub, accidentally stripping it of a season’s growth of leaves.

  “The ones Relf said he heard when he was planning to get married. The ones Barnos said only the ‘mature’ children are ready to hear. The ones Hycy will most likely be getting all the details about while we’re gone on this trip.”

  “Do you have something to announce? I wasn’t aware that you were courting anyone—”

  “No, Puggah. I’m not getting married. But I am almost eighteen.”

  “Aren’t you getting a little old for stories?”

  Young Pere ignored his tone. “What was Mrs. Yordin talking about the other morning? About our family’s slander?”

  Perrin paused. “You’ve heard some of this before, Young Pere. Why do you want more?”

  “Because I want to know the truth.”

  Perrin sighed. “Here’s the truth: The world was a terrible place, it became worse since we left, so we were right in coming to Salem.”

  “What are you hiding, Puggah?” he said boldly. “What are you embarrassed about revealing?”

  From the corner of his eye Young Pere saw Perrin’s jaw shift. “I have nothing to hide, and I’m embarrassed about nothing.”

  “So why does Muggah gloss over those details when she teaches the World History class, and only says that ‘some false stories were spread’? Why do you keep us out of the eating room when newcomers arrive? Why do they all look at Mahrree Shin as if they’re surprised to see her still living with you—”

  That drew a reaction.

  Perrin turned swiftly to glare at him. “Why are you saying that?”

  “Because I want to know,” a prepared Young Pere said coolly. “I’ve seen it, Puggah. People from the world look at her.”

  Perrin stopped, gripped Young Pere by the arm, and dragged him into a cluster of trees.

  “Listen to me, and listen to me carefully, Young Pere.” His voice was low and bordered on threatening as he pushed his grandson deeper into the trees and out of earshot of the family. “Your grandmother is the most wonderful, honest, and courageous woman I’ve ever met. She’s braver than most of the soldiers I knew. She said and did what was right, no matter what the rest of the world said. And they said plenty! People ‘look’ at her because they’d been taught the world destroyed her, but it didn’t. It tried, though. The whole world was afraid of her, of one little inconsequential woman at the Edge of the World, of what she could see. She saw their lies and had no reservations about exposing them, even if it meant her death, which Nicko Mal had planned. But the world never stood a chance to destroy Mahrree Peto Shin! The only one who could stop her was me. She never backed down without being forced to by a sword! Do you understand that, boy?”

  “Yes, sir!” Young Pere responded automatically. The ferocity of his grandfather’s response startled him, and there were bits and pieces he didn’t quite understand. But enough of what Puggah said verified what Young Pere had recently learned from Mrs. Yordin. Finally he was getting to some truth.

  “Look,” Perrin’s voice softened a bit, “the world never appreciated the kind of woman your grandmother is. Honestly, I didn’t for many years either. She was always just a small woman from a tiny village far away from Idumea. But years ago my great uncle Hogal told me she had the potential to be the most dangerous woman in the world. I told you some of this when you and Cephas turned thirteen, remember?”

  He did, a little. But the story seemed washed back then. He wanted the grittier version. Young Pere tried to nod, but the branch of a pine he’d been shoved into scratched the back of his head.

  “At the time I thought Uncle Hogal was mistaken,” Perrin continued, “but he was right. She’d figured out the world, Young Pere. There’s nothing more dangerous than someone discovering your secrets and threatening to expose you.” His grandfather sighed, as if he knew that personally. “So they created lies to discredit her. They had to convince the world they destroyed her, too, just to counter her influence. She truly became the most dangerous woman in the world.” His eyes sharpened with renewed energy as he glared at his grandson. “So yes, people ‘look’ at her—in awe, in fear, in amazement. And so should you!”

  If Perrin thought the intensity with which he confronted his grandson would end the questions, he was wrong. Young Pere had been planning this conversation for the past few days, and braced himself for the responses, too.

  He took another breath and looked his grandfather directly in the eyes. He was one of the few men who could do so, since hardly anyone else was as tall as him.

  “So, General, why would Thorne be afraid of Perrin Shin?”

  Perrin cringed. “This isn’t the time—”

  “This is precisely the time!” Young Pere insisted. “We have all afternoon. Even longer if we stay standing here in the trees while everyone else goes on ahead.” He offered half a smile to his grandfather.

  Perrin didn’t accept it. He groaned softly, turned Young Pere, and pushed him back to the trail.

  The two men walked side by side for a few minutes in silence, allowing Hogal and Atlee to run past them up to the pack horses being led by Boskos, whose son Utolian, or Toli as everyone called him, was napping in the child carrier on one of the horses. The two men paced themselves to not catch up to him, and Young Pere waited patiently for Perrin to speak.

  “You know, your Aunt Calla wrote all about this in her book.”

  Young Pere was already planning to read it when they returned. “I guess it always seemed too hard to read when I was younger. But it’s always better to hear the story from the source, right?”

  Perrin growled quietly.

  Eventually he said, “He . . . uh . . . he was my captain. In Edge. At the end.”

  Young Pere nodded encouragingly.

  His grandfather watched the ground as they walked. “His father Qayin and grandfather High General Cush sent him to watch me after I tried to kill an Administrator. I was a little irrational following the murder of my parents. Shem made sure I survived that day.”

  Young Pere knew parts of that story, but didn’t know how many more details he dared to ask. Suddenly it all seemed very interesting.

  “He was a young captain,” Perrin continued slowly. “Only twenty-two when he was promoted. Before that the youngest man to be made captain was barely twenty-four.”

  “Who was that?” Young Pere asked.

  “Me.”

  Young Pere waited for more.

  “Thorne was ambitious, intelligent, talented, and utterly devoid of any conscience. All that he did, he did for ambition’s sake. All he wanted to do was become High General, and he was hoping to do so through me. For a time he, uh, had his eyes set on Jaytsy.” Perrin’s voice developed an agitated quality. “Your Uncle Shem preserved her from future, uh, from . . .” He sighed heavily.

  Young Pere could tell he was trying to dance around something, and because the general never danced, he was pretty clumsy at it.

  “Anyway,” Perrin picked up again, as if he’d sai
d the words he failed to, “Shem has saved this family so many times, I’ve lost track. After Jaytsy married Deckett, the captain tried another strategy—exposing your grandmother.”

  “How would that help him?” Young Pere asked.

  Perrin’s jaw shifted again. “I think he thought he was helping me. You see, I did something stupid.”

  Young Pere waited for the explanation. They walked over a gentle ridge before Perrin continued.

  “I saved his life. On the battlefield. He would have been sliced in two if I didn’t take out his attackers. You should know, Young Pere, I’ve taken a . . . a few lives in my time—”

  Young Pere knew that number, from Relf. Fifty-three, including Lieutenant Radan up by the glacial fort. If fifty-three was only “a few,” what would have constituted “a lot”?

  “—and I’ve felt the loss of each one. None deserved to live, but their deaths have always weighed on me anyway.”

  They silently passed a grazing deer before Perrin spoke again.

  “As if that wasn’t enough, I went back after the battle and made sure he received medical attention. I was going against the direct orders of his grandfather just by being out there. He thought he owed me for that, I suppose. He seemed to think he was doing me a favor by revealing that my wife was a traitor to the government. I think he was trying to free me from her somehow.”

  Young Pere pondered how to phrase his next question, but decided on the direct approach. “Was she? A traitor?”

  He expected to be shoved off the trail again, but instead his grandfather answered with a casual, “Yes. She was. So was I.”

  That confused him. “But . . . I thought you were to be High General of Idumea? That’s what we’ve always been told . . . and then you refused it because you didn’t believe in what the Administrators were saying.”

  “That’s true. I didn’t believe in them for many years. I had what they would consider traitorous thoughts for a long time. And I shared those thoughts with my wife. Our minds were always the same, and we wanted a very different life than what we had in the world. We didn’t know how to do it, though.

  “The problem is that those with power feel very threatened by anyone thinking differently than they do. The world isn’t run like Salem, Young Pere. In Salem, people have the freedom to do what’s best for their families. For some people, having fourteen children is best. For others, having one is best. Some choose to teach their families on their own, others prefer to have the community schools help. Some choose to leave our society to try a different way of life, but are still considered part of our families. Some people work in one profession their whole lives, others change their work every year. We have freedom to think, to challenge, to experiment, to choose.

  “The world won’t allow that. Most in the world don’t even have a concept of what happiness is. They think it’s acquiring the next new thing or having more of something than their neighbor. They know nothing of satisfaction, nor have any of those poor, wretched citizens ever felt real joy.

  “The only way leaders in the world can maintain their power is by limiting everyone else’s freedom to choose—family size, education, where to live, what to know, to do, to believe, even to worship. When we were there, any time someone even suggested a different way of doing something, that idea was immediately seen as treasonous to those in power. And the idea—or even the person—was quashed.

  “Leaders in the world don’t care about those they lead, Young Pere. They care only for the power they have. I was a legitimate threat to that power, and so was my wife. Before we ever heard of Salem we knew we didn’t belong in the world, but we did the best we could while we were there. I couldn’t support the Administrators or do what they expected of me as High General, so I resigned the same day I was given the commission.”

  “So you were High General? But your uniform—it was only a colonel’s.”

  “Never had time to buy the new jacket, Young Pere. I didn’t let the title rest on me long enough to become it. I couldn’t let it.”

  He sighed again and looked up the path in the distance. Young Pere could tell he was working on the next thing to say.

  “You see,” Perrin began slowly. “There was a day when . . . how do I put this?” he murmured to himself. “The Remembrance Ceremony,” he said suddenly. “One year after the land tremor, almost a year after my parents passed, I was to stand before the village and read the names of all those who lost their lives in the tremor. I stood on that platform and . . . You have to understand, it’d been a very difficult year. Edge was on the brink of starvation when we returned from Idumea with twenty long wagons full of food.

  “During that following year, word spread throughout the entire known world that I would risk everything to feed my village, and the world wanted a leader like that. By the time of the Remembrance Ceremony, I was finishing a bad year after dealing with the loss of my parents, and with my nightmares,” he added apologetically. “As I stood on that platform that morning the crowd took up a chant: ‘General Shin. General Shin.’

  “The idea of being general hit me with full force. In a flash I envisioned how things could change if I were High General. First on my list was to properly avenge my parents. Second was to properly remove Chairman Mal. I was sure he was behind it all. And from there . . . Young Pere, I’m ashamed to say, I did picture myself as Mal’s replacement, just like Eltana Yordin said. I could see myself as general of the world . . . or as king.

  “Another officer and friend of mine, Brillen Karna, was next to me on that platform. I think he was worried that I might have another episode with my father’s sword, because all I did was stand there listening to the chant and making all sorts of plans in my mind. He asked me if he could help. He only meant to take over the reading of the names, but he’d been my lieutenant at the beginning and was loyal to a fault. He’d help me with anything, and I realized I had a lot of loyal friends in the army. It could work. I could do it. I could take over everything.”

  Perrin paused, as if reliving that moment.

  Young Pere noticed his gait had slowed considerably and he reduced his to match it.

  “I looked up at the crowd that was shouting my name louder and louder,” Perrin continued. “And as I surveyed the crowd, I suddenly noticed my wife. There stood Mahrree, at the very front, with immense worry in her eyes. Behind her were my daughter and son, concerned. And then . . . then it hit me. Quite literally, Young Pere. There have been a few rare times in my life when the Creator reached down and just thumped me upside the head!”

  He made a large swatting motion with the walking stick, taking out an innocent shrub.

  “I heard the words just as strongly as I felt them. He said, ‘This is not my will for you, Perrin Shin! Do not forget who you are!’”

  Perrin smiled easily and held out a hand. “And just like that, I lost the desire for that title of High General. I knew my future lay somewhere else. Where, I didn’t know, but as I looked at my wife I knew I’d be taking her somewhere else, maybe even to Terryp’s lands.

  “That day I started planning a way to get the Administrators to open up exploration to the west, and that evening I decided I’d make copies of Terryp’s map that I had hidden in my office to send out to the world. But right then on the platform, I winked at my wife, she smiled at me, and suddenly I knew everything would be right, as long as I never tried to take power the Creator didn’t intend for me to have. I wasn’t a strong enough man to handle it properly, no matter what Eltana Yordin wishes.”

  “Puggah,” Young Pere said softly, “I can’t think of any other man than you who could have handled the power.”

  Perrin shook his head. “No man can handle that much power unless the Creator assigns him to it. There’s only one man alive right now who could’ve done it, Young Pere. And at midday meal he was changing the cloths of your nephew Grunick while Relf adjusted the pack horses.”

  Young Pere stopped in his tracks.

  Perri
n glanced back at him.

  “You mean . . . Uncle Shem?”

  Perrin nodded and continued to walk slowly.

  Young Pere caught up to him.

  “For all intents and purposes, Shem Zenos is King of Salem,” Perrin told him as they walked together. “And tonight that king will undoubtedly help prepare dinner, then serve his sons and nephews, and clean up after them. Then he’ll sleep on the ground under the stars without a servant in sight. That’s the Creator’s idea of a king. The world’s idea? Well, I met King Oren many times, Young Pere. He couldn’t do anything for himself, insisted on sitting in the plushest chairs made of cloth you don’t even know exists, and was the most self-interested and ineffectual leader the world ever saw, just like his ancestors before him.”

  “But, Uncle Shem . . . he’s not like a king.” Young Pere struggled with the idea.

  “Exactly. He’s more like Salem’s servant, isn’t he? I’ve never known him to say no to anyone wanting a moment of his time. He goes out of his way to comfort someone grieving or in distress. He cares nothing for himself, but only for those he serves. He acts just as the Creator would if He were here.”

  Young Pere couldn’t process that. From what he remembered in history, kings don’t tear up when little children bring them half-eaten cakes as gifts.

  They walked for a time, both lost in thought, before Young Pere remembered Puggah didn’t finish the story.

  “So . . . you left Edge? Couldn’t you have reasoned with the Administrators, or gone off and done some other kind of work?”

  Perrin scoffed. “The Administrators were shocked by my resignation and worried about what I might do next. They never would’ve just let me ‘go off’ and do something else. Mrs. Yordin told us they were convinced I was planning a takeover. To show you how reasonable they were, they illegally passed laws to punish us merely for speaking out. We escaped before they could. Shem got us out, right past the captain.”

  Young Pere noticed his grandfather avoided saying the name of Thorne.

  “It was the captain’s biggest failure. We snuck past his soldiers posted at our house, which Jothan had knocked out with sedation, eluded several more groups in the forest, and got your aunt safely out even though she was within weeks of birthing Salema.”

  Heaviness hovered in the air as they slowly walked among the trees, as if something unwelcomed was closing in, like storm clouds on the day of a wedding.

  Young Pere waited to hear what his grandfather was avoiding.

  “The last man I saw in Edge was him. The captain,” Perrin said, still sidestepping his name. “During the lightning storm that guaranteed our escape, I looked back and he saw me as well. And the look in his eyes . . .” Perrin continued walking in silence for a moment, his face contorting at memories he wasn’t expressing.

  “Abandonment,” he said finally. “He seemed to think I was abandoning him. Here he was, trying to capture us to send us to trial, and he has the nerve to look at me like a frightened child watching his father run away!”

  He stared into the trees, his jaw shifting angrily as if he’d spied the captain hiding ahead. “He reported that all of us were dead, that Shem was a traitor whom he killed himself. He actually had killed the last son of King Oren, Dormin—a wholly innocent and excellent scout for Salem—with my father’s sword. The captain knew full well that wasn’t Shem. Our capture would have been the greatest triumph of his very young career, and he failed it. When Mrs. Yordin said my return would scare him, she was right. But Shem’s return would be even worse for him. After you’ve bragged to the world that you killed the greatest traitor, the last thing you’d want would be for him to show up years later to tell everyone you missed.”

  Young Pere smiled faintly at that. There was more to the story, he knew. But this was the most his grandfather had ever revealed, far more than when he was only thirteen. That version had been brief and neat, like a small puncture wound, and not nearly so full of avoided emotion as this telling. Young Pere felt as though he were gazing into an open wound, still festering after many years. It was all just as Mrs. Yordin had told him.

  They walked again in silence, Perrin lost in his thoughts, and Young Pere searching for the right words to express his. Finally he gave it a try.

  “Puggah, what would happen to the world if Perrin Shin returned to it now?”

  Perrin exhaled. “Don’t know. Not going to find out, either. I’m a bit old for that anyway. Actually, Young Pere, I do know,” he whispered. “Shem says it would be a failure. The world’s too far gone for us to save it. All we can do is save people out of it.”

  “Puggah, I wasn’t talking about the seventy-two-year-old Perrin Shin,” he said carefully. “I was talking about the eighteen-year-old one. What if he returned to the world to clear your name, correct the history—”

  Perrin groaned loudly. “No, no, no. Young Pere, you don’t know who you’d be dealing with! Thorne was a young, naïve menace then, but now? He’s a battle-hardened general. You have no experience with men like him. The world is not the place for you. We don’t care what the world thinks of us. Besides, you couldn’t handle it.”

  Young Pere’s hand clenched into a fist. “I know I could, Grandfather. All I need is the opportunity to prove myself. All I need is a couple of seasons to—”

  He should have expected that shove into the forest, but he was unprepared for it until he felt his head banging into the trunk of a tall evergreen. Perrin’s hand on his chest held him firmly in place.

  “Young Perrin Shin, I said NO!” His tone made the hair on the back of Young Pere’s neck rise up. “You have no idea what the world is like! It’s far more complex and depraved now than you could ever imagine. The few things the guide has told me—”

  “Shem knows nothing!” Young Pere interrupted hotly.

  Perrin pushed him harder against the tree. “The guide knows everything! But he’s not going to burden us with that knowledge.”

  Young Pere doubted that.

  Perrin took a deep breath. “Look, if going back to the world would have been a failure for Shem and me, it will be a complete disaster for you. You don’t understand those people. They’re not even looking for someone to save them from the rule of the generals. The citizens of the world have let the generals take charge. They’re not interested in thought or exploration; they’re selfish creatures who just want to be fed and entertained. You can’t do anything with apathetic people. All those who wanted a better world left for Salem, or are too timid to do so, or died long ago.”

  Young Pere opened his mouth to speak, but Perrin grabbed him by the arm with one hand and pointed at him with the other.

  “Say no more of this! Ever! If there’s anything you can try to understand today, it is this: I do not ever want you going to the world. You are too important to me to lose you. Please, Young Pere, believe me, just this once. I do know what I’m talking about.”

  It was no use to argue with him, Young Pere knew. Not when he had that look in his eyes and Young Pere could feel sap starting to stick to the back of his head. He did his best to nod.

  His grandfather released his grip and nodded back. Shaken, Young Pere started back to the trail, but Perrin grabbed his arm and yanked him back. He caught him in a tight embrace which startled Young Pere so much that tears welled up in his eyes.

  “I love you, boy,” he whispered. “You have no idea how much. I would do anything to keep you safe. Anything.”

  Young Pere found it difficult to answer, and not just because his grandfather held him so firmly. “I know, Puggah,” he choked out. “I know.”

  His grandfather gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and stepped back to hold Young Pere’s face in his hands. “Your soul is more important to me than life itself. Please, Young Pere.”

  A tear of frustration leaked out of his eye and landed on his grandfather’s hand, but Young Pere managed a whispered, “All right, Puggah.”

  Perrin smiled and his eyes brightened. “
That’s my boy!” He playfully slapped his grandson’s cheek then looked around the ground around him. “Dropped that stick around here somewhere . . . ah, there it is. Old men like me have a hard time getting around, you see.”

  Young Pere couldn’t help but snort as his grandfather bent easily to get the walking staff he obviously didn’t need.

  “Sure, Puggah,” Young Pere said as they got back on to the trail. He noticed his father not too far behind him, walking with Wes and little Cori.

  Peto gave Young Pere a quizzical glance as the two of them emerged from the dense wood.

  Young Pere ignored him and continued on. Undoubtedly Puggah would give him a meaningful look later to explain their continual disappearing and reappearing on the trail.

  A moment later Puggah was again next to Young Pere. After some silence he said in a cheerful voice, “A few weeks ago I saw Mr. and Mrs. Ison’s daughter talking to you after Holy Day services. She seems to be a nice young lady. Your Muggah said she was quite a smart girl. Did very well in her world history class.”

  Young Pere tried not to sigh. There was that less-than-subtle hint again about courting someone. But why would he single out one girl when it was far more interesting working a whole flock? He had experiments to do, limits to push. For example, he’d already perfected getting a girl to go all starry-eyed in only two verbal exchanges or less. It now took only fifteen seconds before their breathing quickened, their eyes grew larger, and their cheeks flushed.

  It wasn’t so much what he said to them, but in the way he leaned in and towered over them, putting them slightly off balance. Then he moved in closer than custom allowed, turned one side of his mouth up into a sly smile, and narrowed his eyes slightly as he stared hard into hers. That’s when they practically crumbled before him.

  Girls were so easy. No challenge at all. He was considering trying next for a genuine swoon.

  For that matter, elderly women were pretty easy, too, under the spell of his ability. Mrs. Yordin’s revelation that his grandfather had a flock of females surprised him so much that he didn’t confess he had one as well. He briefly wondered whose had more members.

  He glanced sidelong at Puggah. That’s what he’d look like in about fifty-five years. Not too bad, Young Pere considered. He wondered how long the flock would follow him. Young Pere had plenty of years to play sheepherder.

  “Yes, she seemed nice enough. Pretty too, I suppose,” Young Pere offered. That vague description fit nearly every young woman in their congregation, which was useful because he had no idea which one she was.

  Perrin smiled. “Best decision I ever made was marrying a wonderful woman. Don’t put it off too long. There are some great benefits to coming home each day to a wife who you adore and who adores you back . . .”

  Young Pere tried not to cringe. They still had quite a ways to go, and Puggah was about to give the “advantages of marriage” talk.

  Instead, he let his mind wander as his grandfather rambled on about “someone to share your soul with” and “a companion equal in strength and ability to meet the challenges of life.” His mind wandered over the mountains, down through valleys, and past the ruins of Terryp’s vast lands Young Pere visited when he was fifteen. There his mind took a sharp turn east and headed many miles to a place that used to be called Sands.

  He wondered what a desert looked like, and how deep the sands went. He’d just have to find out for himself.

  Mrs. Yordin was right. The old man next to him prattling on about “understanding the purpose of life” had become weak and fearful.

  Young Pere would prove it to him.

  ---

  Perrin knew his grandson wasn’t listening. He’d seen that glassy-eyed look enough times because he used to have that same expression when he was that age.

  They hadn’t spoken for about a quarter of a mile and continued on in silence that late afternoon, nearing their designated campsite where everyone besides Peto, little Cori, and Wes, who were still behind them, should already be. Perrin wondered just where Young Pere was. His body was there, but his mind had been missing in action for quite some time.

  There was only one person he thought would know where Young Pere was headed, and fortunately, at moments like this, he wasn’t far away.

  Uncle Hogal? Perrin sent out the thought. Hogal, he’s not listening. I’m afraid I’m losing him. How did you reach me?

  Ah, my boy, you were ready to listen. You were already in pain, but you refused to acknowledge it. You’d been on the wrong path for some time and had made some serious mistakes. You were ready for something better. Your heart was beginning to soften. But his, I’m afraid, is hardening.

  And his arrogance is growing, isn’t it?

  It is. It’s going to take a lot more than moving a few bales of hay like you did in Edge to reach this one.

  Especially since he already moves hay. Hogal, I’ve told you before: whatever it takes, I’ll do it. Nothing’s more important than my boys and girls. I’ve never forgotten Tuma Hifadhi’s message to me when I was a young father. He told me that sometimes it was only grandfathers who could say what their grandchildren needed to hear. He wasn’t just making small talk; he was a guide seeing my future. He traveled all that way as an eighty-seven-year-old just to tell me that and to give our family a blessing. Now I need to act on that, and I’m ready to do whatever it’s going to take to get Young Pere on the right path.

  We know, my boy. We worry about him, too. Remember, the Creator already has a plan, and He’s pleased that you’ve volunteered.

  Chapter 9--“That’s one nasty stick.”