The sun was peeking over the eastern mountains, the first rays sparkling on the water, when Jaytsy whispered, “Does that river look freezing to anyone else?”
Her family chuckled with her, and shivered. It had been cold last night, and the frost was slowly wicking off the grasses around them. They had come dressed in the white clothing the rector’s wife had delivered last night, but even though it was of a thick weave, they kept their cloaks wrapped around them as they rode in the wagon to the dammed section of the river.
Also wrapped in cloaks and coats were Guide Gleace and his wife, Rector Yung and many of his family, most of their new neighbors, several dozen Zenoses, and Shem, also dressed in white.
Perrin glanced around the reverent and happy crowd, growing steadily, and recalled that he invited maybe a dozen of them. Well, things tended to multiply in Salem, he realized, and if one hundred—oh, here come more wagons—perhaps two hundred wanted to watch his family freeze in the Salem River, so let them. That only meant more people to help fish them out downstream should the dam suddenly collapse.
Besides, he had the feeling that he no longer belonged to himself; General Shin belonged to Salem. They wanted to make sure he was doing things right.
“Sorry about this,” Shem whispered to him. “I promise I didn’t tell that many people, but as you can see folks are kind of excited you’re here, and—”
“Yes, I know. A few people know about us.”
Shem bounced in place. “Bit brisk today. Usually we schedule baptisms in Weeding Season, as you can imagine.”
“So, Mr. New Assistant, how many times have you done this?” Perrin asked. “Baptized people?”
“Quite a few,” Shem assured him. “Baptisms are done by someone with the authority of a rector, and since I was given that position before I went to Edge—”
“Wait, you were a rector?”
“Oh, yeah. Another thing I forgot to tell you. Sorry. I wasn’t an active rector, so to speak. Just a way of giving me extra comfort and assistance, you know.”
“No. I don’t know,” Perrin said under his breath, watching as even more Salemites quietly and eagerly gather at the frigid pool. “It seems I know less every day.”
“Nearly all of my secrets are out now. Anyway, my nieces and nephews all asked me to baptize them when I came back on my leaves, once they turned eight. But, uh, confession time—yes, another one. I’ve never baptized someone bigger than a child. Your family will be the first adults—”
Perrin spun on his heel to stare at him, alarmed.
“—But I’ve got this, don’t worry. See my brothers-in-law? I’ve have them positioned around the pool, just in case I lose my grip. They’re all great swimmers. Hey, that was a joke. Perrin, I’m only joking . . .”
Perrin was striding purposefully over to Guide Gleace, who wore an expression of nervous amusement.
Perrin winked as he neared. “Don’t worry, I’ve not lost my resolve. It’s just that Shem now thinks I’m afraid he’s about to drown all of us. And after all he’s done to me this week, I think he deserves to feel a little agony fretting over what I may be talking to you about right now. I guess we could call this my last worldly trick before the world is washed away from me. So tell me honestly, sir—does Shem look terrified that I’m about to back out of this?”
Gleace was able to choke down his laugh, but his wife had to hide her giggle in her scarf. “Yes, he’s absolutely rigid with dread. Now it looks like he’s trying to convince Mahrree that everything will be just fine. I’m going to have to keep a close eye on the two of you, aren’t I?”
Perrin grinned. “Yes, I think you should. Shem’s going to freeze in there, isn’t he? Since he’ll be baptizing each of us, it’s him who will suffer the longest, right?”
“Well, I suppose that’s true—”
“Good.”
Five minutes later Gleace decided there were quite enough witnesses, and after he said a few words to the crowd, invited Shem to escort Perrin into the water. They made their way in just fine while the water reached only to their thighs, but stepping in deeper to their bellies made both of the men gasp at the cold. The Salemites waiting on the bank chuckled in sympathy.
Jaytsy held her belly in worry.
Mahrree rubbed it, as did Deck.
Peto crossed his legs.
But then something in the air changed, softening it. Everyone and everything grew quiet as the rising sun caressed the air and water.
Perrin lost all feeling in his legs, which was a welcome sensation in the freezing river. But he also felt as if a hot lump of sunshine dripped upon him. It was the same sensation he’d felt the night he chased away the Refuser from his house, and began to fight away his trauma. While he’d felt the promptings of the Creator before, this was the first time he’d felt the Creator embracing him in thick, warm joy.
Perrin never wanted to leave the water.
Shem, his hands trembling either from cold or nerves or both, showed Perrin how to hold on to his arm and, in a clear, loud voice said the blessedly brief prayer of baptism.
But Perrin didn’t hear Shem’s voice. Or rather, Shem’s voice didn’t sound like him. It was fuller, older, and far more powerful than Perrin had ever heard. Maybe it wasn’t Shem he was hearing, he speculated later. But whosever it was, the voice was anciently and sweetly familiar.
Then backward he went into the water, and it flowed over him, cool and cleansing, without the least intention of drowning him, but enveloping him in second chances.
Again, he didn’t want to leave it, but was content to sink further and deeper into that sensation of purity which, for the moment, wholly defined him.
Until Shem dragged him back up, his eyes wide with alarm that Perrin wasn’t rising on his own.
“Are you all right?” Shem whispered, panicked.
And just like that, it was over. Fortunately his tears blended into the water streaming down his face.
“Right now, I’m perfect.”
“Yes, that’s actually true.” Shem slapped him happily on the back. “Now, when you leave the water don’t trip or you’ll go and spoil it all.”
Chuckling, Perrin trudged out of the river to Mahrree who stood with her arms close to her chest.
“Was it all right?” she asked.
He wiped his face with the towel Jaytsy handed him. “It was perfect.”
He didn’t notice until later that the crowd on the banks didn’t applaud or cheer, which would have ruined the moment. Instead they did what Perrin defined as merry murmuring, full of approval.
He also didn’t notice until later that he didn’t feel any cold until after each of his family had been baptized. Next went in Mahrree, who found herself chest deep in the water, which meant it was a quicker down and up for her, then Peto who howled briefly as his nether regions hit the cold water.
Deck walked with Jaytsy into the pool, and stood nearby as Shem baptized her. He walked her back to the bank before allowing Shem to baptize him.
Only once Deck was to the shore and wrapped in a cloak did Perrin begin to shiver. He glanced over at Shem, whose father was wrapping him in a thick blanket. Shem trembled, but beamed.
“You’re now officially Salemites,” he said, teeth chattering. “Thank you for not waiting until Snowing Season.”
---
Nicko Mal’s library was still strewn with papers. Yesterday he ordered a maid to start clearing the mess, but when she exclaimed, “My goodness! You must have dumped out every crate you owned. There’s so much paper here, it’s shin-deep,” he fired her on the spot.
He also decided he didn’t need any servants reading his research notes, nor was he ready to surrender the rage which still simmered in his chest making it hot and tight, so he left the clutter as a reminder.
To get to his desk, he waded through the piles, making a path which didn’t last long as the pages sloshed back into place. For the last hour he’d been fine-tuning his wording, and he called to one of his guards t
o swish over and take the parchment that he’d sealed in an envelope. “For the printers. Tell them every village will need these notices as soon as possible. Don’t delay.”
As the guard slogged through the papers and parchment, Nicko sat back in his overstuffed chair. Only once the door was shut, then shut again because pages were catching in the frame, did he whisper, “And now, everyone who loved and admired you for all the wrong reasons will hate you for all the right ones. They will feel the same loathing I’ve felt for you all these years, Mahrree Peto Shin.”
He clasped his hands on his desk, gripping them as if they’d float away if he let go. “You may be ‘gone,’ but I’m still in control of the game, and I get to make the last play. I win, Mrs. Shin. I always win.”
Nicko Mal spent the rest of the day trying to remind himself of that truth, ignoring the feeling that he’d been cheated by the other players running cowardly away.
---
Mahrree had been bouncing with excitement after midday meal. Actually, she’d been nearly uncontainable all morning.
When Yudit arrived at the door, she said, “I was about to ask if you really wanted to go today, seeing as how it’s already been a busy morning for you, but you’re all ready, aren’t you?”
“What else should I do? Peto’s at his first day of afternoon classes—and may I add you people are brilliant for not starting teenage classes until after midday meal? Perrin’s putting up walls in Jaytsy’s house, Jaytsy’s with your sister Nan getting seeds for the garden, and Deck is visiting a ranch selecting cattle. So here I sit officially a Salemite, and I want to be and do everything that is Salemitish, including getting that library card you told me about.”
Yudit grinned. “I thought as much. Let’s go.”
Half an hour later the women walked into the large stone building in the middle of Salem, and all Mahrree could do was gasp. “So many.”
“We make copies, too. Of every worthy book, even ones the scouts purchase in the world and bring back here. Anyone is free to take one home for four weeks. We also have many of our own writings. Not just texts for schooling, but compilations of poems, stories, longer works, and histories.”
“Whose histories?” Mahrree asked, bracing herself in case the answer wasn’t what she hoped.
But it was. “Everyone’s! But first, right over here is the world section.” She gestured to a wing of the repository filled with rows of shelves. “Everything you had to leave behind in Edge is likely in here as a copy. If you’re ever feeling nostalgic for your father’s collection, you can sit among the shelves and pretend you’re back in Edge.”
“You have dozens of copies of everything!” Mahrree marveled. “Look at this one—‘Embellishments Through the Ages.’ That was the only book my mother kept of my father’s collection. After she died, I took it home and hide our family lines in it. I knew Perrin would never be interested in opening it.”
Yudit chuckled. “If ever you have the urge to read it . . .”
“I never did,” Mahrree laughed. “But there was another book I wondered about, but never finished. It’s about an army officer whose wife’s family were Guarder traitors, and he had a sergeant who pushed him to—” Mahrree paused, realizing the story sounded familiar.
The women stared at each other.
“What was the name of that book?” Yudit asked urgently.
“I don’t remember!” Mahrree nearly wailed. “But the character names weren’t Lek or Lorixania or Boskos.”
“No, they wouldn’t be, would they?” Yudit sighed. “Still, remarkable coincidences. We can ask the librarians if they might know it, if it may be in our shelves.”
“Yes, I’d definitely like to track that down one day, but right now I’m a more interested in verifiable histories,” Mahrree hinted.
“Then come this way. I have a feeling you’ll spend the rest of the afternoon over in this wing.”
And Yudit was right. It was as large as a congregation hall with shelves higher than Mahrree’s head and least fifty feet long. The rows, more than a dozen, were packed with leather-bound pages of writings. It was a good thing ladders were attached to each shelf, because Mahrree wanted to explore every one, low and high.
But first she had to make herself move.
Yudit chuckled as Mahrree remained rooted to the ground. “You see, histories aren’t just for the experts to write. Histories are for everyone, a record of their lives. Journals. Most people keep two: a private journal of their fears and worries, and a public one wherein they record the miracles they experienced, their discoveries, their growth, their children—everything. We make copies of those journals, too. We always have.”
“Always?” Mahrree breathed.
“Come to the best part of the repository.” Yudit took her arm and gently lead her to the back wall which had the words “Ancient History” caved elegantly on a board on top of the shelves.
“Ancient?” Mahrree couldn’t say more than one word at a time.
“Indeed. Back in 200 Querul the First destroyed all the family lines given to him. But what he didn’t know was that the guides down to Pax always kept family histories. They were sacred, as sacred as The Writings. The guides made copies and distributed the histories among the assistants. That was one of their callings: to preserve—at all costs—those writings that proved the existence of the Creator and His influence in the world. Guide Hierum knew at some point the personal histories would be sought out and destroyed, so from the beginning all that was written was carefully guarded. When our people fled the world in 200, the histories were one of the few things they took with them. That’s why we encourage new refugees to bring the writings of their families with them.”
“But some people leaving the world were captured and killed,” Mahrree remembered.
“Yes,” Yudit said sadly. “And the histories they carried were also destroyed. That’s why Pax made sure at least three copies of each was distributed to different areas of the world before that. In the end, at least one copy of each history reached Salem. And here, before you, are copies of those writings. Mahrree, I don’t think anyone in the world realizes it, but our first five hundred families began writing about their experiences only a season after they were placed here.”
Mahrree could only shake her head as she gazed at the volumes.
“I think you would enjoy beginning right here.”
Yudit led her to the far left section of the wall, reached to the top of the shelf, and took down a thin history.
“The first five hundred families didn’t write as much as we do. They were still trying to figure out how to spell and compose sentences.”
She turned the first pages to show Mahrree.
“We still have their originals stored in one of the mountains in a large stone—and fireproof—vault. But as you’ll see, the first pages are like reading a seven-year-old’s writing. Short sentences, stumbling ideas, sloppy explanations. After the first year, though, many people began to improve in their writing skills. Still, so much is to be gleaned from these earliest experiences. This Mahrree, is the journal kept by Herna—Guide Hierum’s wife.”
Mahrree sat down weakly on a nearby chair as Yudit handed her the book.
“She was a remarkable woman. We always hear about the greatness of Guide Hierum, but no man can be called as guide unless his wife is his equal in strength, knowledge, and humility. Herna was no exception. Not only was she the first woman to conceive and bear a child, she was also the first mother to raise her three children alone. Hierum was killed the week before their daughter was born. If ever you need a good cry, read later in this book when she describes giving birth without her beloved husband by her side. I’ve only been able to get through it once. It’s not a story easily forgotten.”
Already tears were stinging Mahrree’s eyes. “It never occurred to me . . . I knew Hierum was killed, and that he had a family, but I never realized she had to continue alone.”
“She did, and quite admi
rably. She never wavered in her commitment to the Creator. She taught her children well, and they all remained strong. They were the last holdouts to avoid going to Idumea. But in the end, they had to; there was no one left around them, and Herna knew she needed the help of others to raise her family. She reluctantly took her children to Idumea after living in the place of the ruins for nearly two years, alone.”
Mahrree sighed. “I can hardly wait to read this.”
“There’s something else I think you should know,” Yudit said in a tone which put Mahrree on the edge of her chair.
“What is it?”
“You saw from the lines that we’re both descended from Guide Hierum and Herna.”
After they’d stared in amazement at the family lines yesterday, realizing that the Shins, Petos, and Zenoses were all related, Yudit showed them that their lines, ones which Mahrree didn’t have access to, also led directly back to Guide Hierum himself.
Mahrree tried once again to keep down her exhilaration about that. She knew that who her ancestors were didn’t mean anything special or dubious about her, but still one can’t help but take secret bragging rights.
“I’m sorry to say I’ve been a bit proud of that fact.”
Yudit chuckled. “Realize a great many people are also descended from them. And through marriages, we’re all related in many ways.”
“So what should I know?”
Yudit took the book from Mahrree, thumbed a few pages, and handed it back. “Herna named her last daughter Rium, in memory of her dead husband. Rium was a beautiful, sweet girl who matured into a delightful young woman. Many young men were taken by her joyful spirit and hard-working nature. It was while she was picking berries in early Harvest that a young man became completely enamored by her. They worked side by side for weeks harvesting berries from stalks with tiny thorns that frequently pricked Rium. Her young man, named Andras, even fashioned a pair of thin leather gloves hoping to help protect her skin. For several weeks they worked together, and after the harvest was in, Andras told Rium he wanted to continue seeing her. ‘You tried to protect me from the thorns,’ she told him. ‘I think you’d try to protect me from all kinds of dangers.’”
Mahrree peered at Yudit. “There’s more to this than a little love story, right?”
“There is. You see, within another season Andras and Rium decided to marry. Some in this generation realized that they needed additional names to help designate which men and women had decided to join together. Having a second name they used in common would help clarify the growing families. Andras and Rium decided on a last name together.”
“Oh, no,” Mahrree whispered, seeing where this was leading.
“Oh, yes. They chose the name that brought them together: Thorn. At this time, spellings were still being experimented with, so when they recorded the name at the village office, they added an ‘e’ at the end, not really sure how to spell it.”
Mahrree closed her eyes in disbelief.
But Yudit wasn’t done. “Andras wanted to rid the world of thorns, so he started cross planting berries with other vines, hoping to reduce the number of thorns that occurred. He had some success with raspberries. He had hoped that many generations from his, no one in the world would even know what a thorn was, and that anyone who came across their chosen family name would question what it meant.”
“But there are thorns everywhere in the world,” Mahrree exhaled, her eyes still closed.
“Yes, there are. The Creator designed it that way. Thorns are part of the test, Mahrree. How do we respond to them?”
“I can’t believe it. I just can’t . . . Lemuel Thorne, and his father Qayin, are direct descendants of the Great Guide Hierum!”
“Just like you and me, Mahrree.”
Her eyes flashed open. “They’re related to us!”
“Ah. Knew you’d catch on eventually. We are all family, Mahrree. Somewhere along the lines, we all connect together. How do we treat our family, Mahrree?”
“Not by running them out of the world!”
Yudit gave her a reproving look.
Mahrree sighed. “This may take me some time to accept.”
“That’s why I wanted to warn you now, before you came to those pages and made the connection. It will still be a struggle for you, though. It has been for Shem.”
“That’s right,” Mahrree exclaimed. “He knew, didn’t he? When he first met the Thornes?”
“The scouts have been watching the Thornes for many years, suspecting that Qayin had some link with the Guarders. Shem was furious to realize Lemuel would be serving with him in Edge. More often than you realize, he and Lemuel had some run-ins. In fact, once a situation escalated to the point that Shem had Lemuel on the ground with his long knife ready to plunge into the captain’s throat.”
Mahrree’s eyebrows flew up.
“He confided to me later that all he wanted to do was push that knife in one more inch to kill him, but he couldn’t.”
“Why not?” Mahrree asked, only slightly ashamed that she wished Shem had done it.
“He wasn’t allowed to. Shem’s taken lives before, Mahrree. Beginning when he was a young soldier in Edge. But he didn’t want to do it. His heart’s been scarred by those deaths, even about the two lieutenants who were intent on murdering your in-laws. One of them was Sonoforen, Dormin’s brother.”
Mahrree nodded. “Perrin told me all about that. To be honest, Shem’s got me just a little wary of him now. I had no idea he was capable of so much.”
“Nor did he. Over the years I’ve been his confidante. Whatever bothered him, he’d reveal to me. But he said holding Lemuel down was different. All he felt was pure rage, yet whenever the Creator influenced him, he never felt rage but a strong sense of purpose. He realized his desire to kill Lemuel was from the Refuser. It wasn’t Lemuel’s time to go yet. There’s more he needs to do—”
“Like what?” Mahrree spat. “Take over the world?”
Yudit tilted her head. “He really gets to you, doesn’t he? Mahrree, as difficult as this may seem to believe, Lemuel is loved by the Creator. Just as much as you and Perrin are. And so is Qayin and everyone else who makes this test miserable. The Creator loves all of His children equally. He’s not as equally pleased with all of them, true, but He still wants them to come home. Lemuel needs the opportunity to try to find that truth. He does have Guide Hierum’s blood in his veins, after all.”
“Greatly diluted!”
“As diluted as your own, Mahrree.”
Mahrree sagged. “That’s probably true,” she mumbled.
“Shem still struggles, if that helps you at all. He told me last night that when he was in Idumea spying last week, he had his opportunity to rid the world of Qayin Thorne.”
“Really?”
“Qayin kept his horse in a corner of the Administrators’ stables where Shem was working, so no other animals would be near his prized stallion. The day the Administrators finally resolved to bring you and your family to trial, Qayin came whistling happily into the stables. Shem followed and pretended to work nearby. He heard Qayin tell his horse, in loving tones, about how the Shins were about to be destroyed, and how the reign of the Thornes was soon to begin. Shem didn’t tell me specifics, but apparently Qayin had some particular feelings about you and Perrin that he shared with his mount. Shem looked at the pitchfork in his hands and realized he could run Qayin through and leave him in that secluded stall to die.”
“So why didn’t he do it?” Mahrree whispered.
“Because the world needs thorns, Mahrree. For every Shem and Perrin, there’s a Qayin and Lemuel. For every Versula, there’s a Mahrree. The Creator allows the thorns as well as the fruit. The test is to see how we react to those thorns. Without them, life is just a long holiday. But to sit back and enjoy ourselves isn’t why we’ve been placed here. Even the Thornes are being tested, to see if they will change their natures.”
Mahrree fingered the book in her hands. “Same amount of Guide
Hierum’s blood in both of us.”
“Yes.”
“So our ancestry doesn’t matter; it’s who we are that matters.”
Yudit pulled up a chair next to her and sat down. “Allow me to plant into your mind a little seed that’s going to need a lot of time to germinate. It’s the same idea I gave to my little brother. Consider this: someday, in the distant future, likely not in this life, but in the Paradise to come, you will see Lemuel Thorne and his family with different eyes, with perfected eyes. And when that time comes, you will feel compassion and concern for him in ways you can’t imagine now. And you will someday sit down with him on a proverbial back porch somewhere, and you will chat about this life, about what happened here, and he will ask you for forgiveness, and because of the genuine love you feel for him, you will have already granted it. And you will eventually chat and even laugh as if you were old friends who simply forgot that you already had an ancient history together. And the pain and fury and skepticism that I see in your eyes right now will be a distant, and tiny, memory.”
When Mahrree said nothing, but gripped tighter the armrests on her chair, Yudit added, “As I said, this idea will take a long time to germinate. Centuries, even. Just leave that little seed in the dirt for a while, all right?”
Mahrree exhaled, long and low. “I will try,” she mumbled. “Lemuel murdered Dormin, you know.”
“Yes, I know. So do the Creator and Dormin.”
“I have to admit,” Mahrree drummed her fingers on the armrest, “that I feel like I’m already failing in my first day as a Salemite. I’m filled with all kinds of ugly, worldly thoughts.”
“No one expects you to be perfect today, Mahrree. No baby walks her first time out. She’ll fall again and again, and even adults tend to stumble now and then. That’s not a problem, unless they never get up again.”
“Thanks for your optimism,” Mahrree said drearily. “But what you’re suggesting . . .”
Yudit patted her arm. “What I’ve just suggested is far more difficult than I think any Salemite, besides Shem and your husband, has ever had to consider. I’ve dumped an entire avalanche on you when you expected a sunny day. I’m sorry, but I felt it was necessary to do, and so did Guide Gleace. He asked me to tell you about the Thornes, and he was the one who shared with me the idea of someday feeling love for them. If it makes you feel any better, Shem wasn’t too keen on the idea either. But, he accepted that seed.”
Mahrree shrugged. “That very hard, very small seed that will likely not crack for a few centuries, right?”
“Perhaps,” Yudit acknowledged.