Safety Assured Leaving East of Medicetti

It was a surprisingly hot and bright afternoon in Edge as nearly all of the villagers were gathered at the amphitheater. They were there for the memorial service for the Shins.

  Not for all of the Shins, however.

  It was obvious to Sareen, as it must have been to everyone else, that Magistrate Wibble never once mentioned Mahrree Peto Shin who had lived in Edge her entire life and taught many of the villagers. Nor did he say a word about Sergeant Major Shem Zenos who had defended them for so many years.

  On the platform next to Wibble was displayed Colonel Shin’s dress uniform, the numerous medals catching the sun and occasionally blinding sections of the amphitheater. Next to it was a dress of Jaytsy Briter’s, a set of her husband’s clothing, and then the kickball uniform of Peto Shin. Propped up on wooden posts, they appeared even more empty and eerie.

  Sareen stayed for nearly the entire service, sniffling and wiping away tears she didn’t want to feel in her bitterness. When Wibble invited the crowd to file by the clothing remains as if they were bodies, and a few women pulled out pocket knives to slice off bits of the colonel’s uniform to keep for themselves, Sareen knew the gathering had taken on a maudlin tone and she’d had enough. There’d be a fight soon over his medals once people realized they were made of real gold and silver.

  Instead of heading back to her bookshop, she went to the Shins’ empty house. The soldiers who had been guarding it since the Shins were lost were letting people into it now. Since there were no surviving members of the Shin family in the world, their goods were up for the taking.

  For the looting, Sareen realized. The windows had been smashed, and when she entered the house she discovered the furniture was already gone and rubbish had been strewn over the floor.

  This hadn’t happened at the Briters, though. Deckett Briter’s uncle, aunt, and cousin had arrived the evening after all of them had been lost to the forest, not knowing what happened but intent on coming to help with the baby they anticipated being born soon.

  Sareen couldn’t imagine the shock they must have experienced to discover all of the Shins and Briters were gone, but she heard rumors about them for the past few days. Word was that Deckett’s uncle was beside himself with fury when he was told the news by soldiers, and marched to the forest himself to find his nephew, only to be held back by patrols. The next day he and Administrator Genev were seen at the forest line, talking and gesturing at the trees. At one point there was some kind of frantic activity, and Deckett’s aunt and cousin, who were cleaning out the house, rushed up there. The stories which trickled back to Sareen were that they thought they heard a baby crying, or found evidence of the Briters’ newborn, or something else, but suddenly the Briters left in their loaded wagon, weeping and shaken, and no one knew anything else.

  The Shins had no family left in all the world to mourn them so deeply, Sareen sighed. Maybe she was the closest thing left in Edge.

  She was surprised to see Mr. Hegek come down their stairs, a crate in his hands. He nodded curtly to Sareen.

  When she’d opened her book shop two years ago, he’d eagerly come in to congratulate her. Then he started thumbing through her selections. Oh, she had the small table with recipe compilations and the obligatory text or two on how to farm, as if anyone didn’t know. But it was her long wall devoted to stories of improving relationships that caught his eye.

  It was as he was shaking his head at the fifth book he perused that he asked her, in the withering tones that only a school director can perfect, “Really, Miss Sareen? This? This is what you’re selling to the youth of Edge?”

  She had batted her eyelashes and said, “Don’t we want the youth of Edge interested in reading?” And from that point on there had been a frosty wall between them.

  But as they regarded each other across the remnants of what used to belong to a family they both had loved, mutual grief caused considerable melting.

  “What disrespect,” he said, glancing around the gathering room. “I don’t know if the soldiers did this or the neighbors.” Noticing that Sareen was eyeing his crate, he said, “Her lesson plans and student records. Genev wanted them,” he spat. “As if any of this still matters since she’s gone.”

  Not that Sareen cared much for the director of schools, but anyone having to deal with the Administrator of Loyalty deserved sympathy. “Are you in trouble with Idumea?”

  Hegek scoffed, his tone shaky, “I’m the one who let her teach whatever she wanted, after all. What do you think?”

  Sareen winced. “I’m sorry.”

  “As long as I’m cooperative, I should be able to wriggle out of this eventually. In a twisted way, I allowed her to trap herself, so I’m considered ‘useful.’ Lannard was acting as a spy, although I doubt he really knew it. And here I thought that boy would never amount to anything. They want him in Command School to become an officer as his reward. I’ve been ordered to ‘revise’ his academic file.” In a hush he added, “So if you thought the army had problems before . . .” and he looked down his nose at her meaningfully.

  Sareen managed a dismal smile.

  Hegek set the crate on the floor. “She had everything stored under their bed. Very well organized—” His chin trembled, and Sareen looked down at her feet to avoid seeing his emotion. “Don’t know how anyone will be able to take that bed,” he said in a sad chuckle. “Monstrous thing.”

  “I just came for books,” Sareen said, feeling she had to justify her presence there as well. “No one wants those, apparently.” When Hegek raised his eyebrows as if to ask, Why would you want them? she added, “I can swap them with other booksellers.” She turned her attention to the shelves, mostly still full.

  “Quite the collection,” Hegek agreed. “May take a few myself, if you don’t mind.”

  Sareen shrugged. “You probably don’t want the same ones I do.”

  He smiled dimly as if that was obvious, and in silence they began to pull down titles.

  Once, as Sareen climbed up a shelf, she spied an odd hole in the ceiling timbers, and before she could ponder on it too long, she suddenly remembered how it got there: Miss Mahrree’s After School Care. The boys had been practicing with bows and arrows in the house since the day was so windy—Shem Zenos’s less-than-brilliant idea—and several arrows had lodged in the timbers. Captain Shin had pulled out that one, she remembered.

  In her eyes sprang tears, hot and angry.

  None of this had to happen. She’d tried so hard to make Shem Zenos love her. They could have been very happy together, and the Shins wouldn’t now be dead—

  She accidentally dropped the books on the floor and climbed down, wiping her face.

  Mr. Hegek patted her back comfortingly as she gathered up the books. Sareen heard him sniff. “Going to take some time to get over all of this,” was all he murmured, and Sareen didn’t know if he were referring to her or himself.

  During the next half hour they made a few comments, traded books occasionally, and finally packed up the piles they made.

  On top of his fourth crate Mr. Hegek gingerly placed some rolled parchment. “What remains of his map collection,” he explained to Sareen when she saw it. “Oh, how I wish I could have seen Terryp’s map. I know it was the Colonel’s,” he whispered to Sareen. “I just know it. When I first came to Edge, he visited me in my small office and we chatted about Terryp. It seemed to me then that he knew Terryp quite intimately, and now I know why. We’re not hearing all of the truth, Miss Sareen,” he said, glancing around nervously for any other ears, but the soldiers were walking lazily around the house, not sure why they were still hanging around. “Nor will we ever. But believe me—the map was Colonel Shin’s, not Zenos’s.”

  Sareen squinted. “So what do you think happened?”

  “Since it wasn’t Zenos’s map, it wasn’t here to tell Mrs. Shin where to go,” he said in barely a whisper. “Mahrree loved her husband, that I know. I came by the morning after he resigned, and I saw them a few times after, and they seemed very ha
ppy, despite the village ignoring them. Or maybe because it was. But Miss Sareen, I think they were all planning to find Terryp’s land together.”

  “But what about their daughter?” Sareen whispered back. “Terrible time to run away when she’s about to give birth, don’t you think? And they didn’t take anything with them. No supplies, not even the map they would need.”

  Hegek’s shoulders sagged. “Well, I haven’t figured out everything. Something went wrong, and they weren’t intending to leave just yet. But,” he sighed, long and heavy, “I suppose it doesn’t matter now, does it? Nothing worked out the way it should.”

  Sareen sighed sadly along with him, and without another word Hegek hauled the crate out of the house. It took him several trips to get all of the crates out to the cart he borrowed.

  Sareen was leaving the front yard with the last of her books when she heard the commotion. She shoved her gatherings to the other side of the road just as the crowd of several dozen arrived, storming into the Shins’ small house and grabbing whatever was left.

  She folded her arms and sniffled when the torches lit on fire the roof and walls Shem Zenos had constructed, and she stepped away from the jeering crowd as the house reduced itself to a shell of burned-out stone walls.

  As much as she now hated Zenos, as shocked as she was by Miss Mahrree’s treachery, she couldn’t help but weep as so many wonderful memories dissolved into ash and smoke and rubble.

  Eventually all that was left were wisps of smoke emerging from what Sareen realized was Edge’s own ruin. No one needed to visit Terryp’s land now to see ruins, even if they had been allowed to.

  As she finally picked up the last crate to bring back to her shop—no one in the crowd of hundreds that had come to watch the fire and occasionally cheer was interested in mere books—she looked wretchedly one last time at the charred remains of the Shin home. A neighbor, Mrs. Hersh, was using a stick to shove off of her property some smoking embers, but that’s not what caught Sareen’s eye. Stunned, she approached the front yard again to realize that it was green.

  In fact, it wasn’t just green, it was blooming, with tiny flowers she’d never seen before, and in colors that startled her. Pinks, purples, yellows, and whites. Despite the trampling mobs, despite the patrolling soldiers, despite the raging fire, something was growing, planted in the Shins’ front garden—when or by whom, she had no idea—and for once the Shins had a proper garden.

  Dismayed by so much new life that not even she had noticed, and unsure of what it could mean, Sareen backed away, scooped up the last crate, and skittered off.

  ---

  Calla stayed for the week, but was rarely at her cousin’s house. Every afternoon she walked from Mahrree’s lectures to various locations on the arm of Shem. On her third afternoon he took her to his father’s place to show her the lands. On the fourth afternoon they helped Yudit plant part of her garden, a section she later confided to Mahrree she had no intention of using that year, but she wanted an excuse to watch her little brother and the woman he couldn’t take his eyes off. On Calla’s fifth and last afternoon, Mahrree watched them wander off toward the heart of Salem and hoped Shem remembered that the two of them were to have dinner that night with the entire Zenos clan. Mahrree wondered what Shem would do when Calla left in the morning to return to Norden. If only she could have been there for a little longer.

  Later that evening as she cleaned up the kitchen, Mahrree plotted ways to keep Calla there. Maybe Guide Gleace could assign Shem to Norden for a while, even though there was already an assistant up there. She was planning her little talk with the guide when she heard a knock at the door.

  It was Shem, and he looked very serious. “Mahrree, can I talk to you?”

  She hesitated. This was the first time they were alone since last week’s news of their alleged ‘togetherness.’ The awkwardness Shem displayed around Calla had overwhelmed anything that stood between them for the past few days, but right there on the front porch the uncomfortable feelings of last week flooded back over them, with no Perrin to staunch the flow.

  “Of course, Shem,” Mahrree said with forced cheeriness. “Always. I’m afraid Perrin’s out right now—”

  “I know. I saw him on his way to Caraka’s. He told me to come by. I really wanted to talk to you alone.”

  “All right,” she said guardedly, letting him in.

  He sat down on the sofa and, remembering that’s where he was last week, stood up and took a chair instead.

  Mahrree sat on the sofa opposite of him.

  He leaned forward, wringing his hands. “I need to know what you think about . . . Calla.”

  Mahrree relaxed. “I think she’s kind, intelligent, honest, and a wonderful woman. Why do you think I wanted you to meet her?”

  “Do you think I should tell her what happened with us?”

  Her eyes wide, Mahrree said, “What happened with us?”

  Shem cringed. “I mean the rumors. What if someone some day comes from the world and, knowing the official story, says something to her—”

  “How much does she know of the world?” Mahrree asked.

  “An amazing amount, actually.” His face lit up. “It’s almost as if she was there with me. She knows so much and asks such interesting questions. We discovered that she developed her interest in the army around the same time I left for Edge. She used to read everyone’s reports but then focused on only mine after that first Guarder attack. She was merely fourteen, but she started writing analyses herself. Can you believe that? She wrote that my main mistake in that first conflict was my not drawing my sword! She’s practically written her own book. Perrin should read it. Did you know she’s the oldest of six girls? And I have six sisters! All her sisters are married except for her youngest one. Calla’s just never found the right man, one who can appreciate her love of—” Shem stopped, realizing he said far more than he intended to. He looked at his hands.

  But Mahrree was beaming. “So Shem, if she really understands the world, she certainly would understand about the Administrators and their deceptions, wouldn’t she?”

  “True, she should,” he said, still staring at his hands that started to slap against each other. “I just would hate for her to hear something unexpected.”

  “But Jothan will be closing the route in the next few days,” she reminded him. “Nearly everyone is out, and the guide doesn’t expect any new refugees for many more moons.”

  “What I worry about is later.” He looked up at her. “What if years from now someone comes and she hears the stories? I know we agreed to never discuss this again, but I don’t want her to—”

  Mahrree leaned forward with an understanding smile. “You don’t want your wife to hear that you loved someone else before her?”

  “Yes, she would be devast—wait.” Shem swallowed hard. “What did you just say?”

  “Shem, it’s been so obvious, even I could see it.”

  “It was?” he cried.

  “Yes, and I completely approve. You want to marry Calla!”

  Shem held his breath for a moment as the meaning of her words sorted themselves out in his mind. It occurred to Mahrree that she saw only half of what was going on in there.

  Shem finally exhaled. “I’ve been thinking about it, yes.” He buried his head in his hands. “I know I just barely met her, but I just feel so comfortable around her. It’s so natural. I’ll admit that first day was anything but natural,” he laughed to the floor, “but now . . . Is this crazy, Mahrree?” He looked up at her, earnest worry in his eyes. “To think such things so soon after meeting her?”

  “Do you feel crazy?”

  “A little, but I like it.”

  “Good,” Mahrree said, sensing that everything sticky between them from the last week was dissolving into the cracks of the floorboards.

  He was her little brother again, asking his big sister for advice about women. Even though he had six other sisters, she relished that it was her he came to.
br />   “Shem, if you’re so worried about the rumors, then tell her about them. I’m sure she’ll see them for what they are. Besides,” she fidgeted as she knew she needed to tell him something even more sticky, “Perrin and I realized last night that the rumors are probably our fault.”

  “Your fault?” Shem sat back. “Perrin said he wanted you and me to discuss something. This is it?”

  “Yes, it is. And actually, it was his fault,” Mahrree clarified. “You see, after you and he returned from Idumea after burying his parents, we discussed the possibility—well, the reality—of his perhaps not coming home someday.”

  This was tougher than she expected. Last night she and Perrin concluded it would be better to explain this to Shem without Perrin present. Now she wondered why they came to that conclusion.

  Actually, Mahrree realized, it was Perrin who suggested not being around when the issue came up, the coward . . .

  “We had always avoided talking about his dying on duty,” she continued, “but when he came back he said he was going to make provisions for us.”

  Shem furrowed his brows.

  She had to rush out the next words, or she’d die of embarrassment. “Shem, he wrote a letter! I didn’t see it, but he told me the contents. He hid it in the bottom drawer of his desk.”

  “I know,” Shem said, too casually for Mahrree. “The ‘Death Drawer.’ That’s what we irreverently called it behind his back. There was an envelope addressed to me.”

  Mahrree nodded. “Perrin had thought that if he never returned, you would be the one going through his things. But now we realize Lemuel must have taken it.”

  “Thorne was tearing apart that office the night Perrin resigned. I don’t think he ever went to bed. So what was in the letter?”

  Mahrree closed her eyes briefly. “I can’t believe he left me to tell you this alone . . . this is so embarrassing—”

  “How could anything be worse than last week?” Shem said.

  “Then this will be a close second,” she warned. “All right,” she glanced at Shem but was unable to keep his gaze, so she studied the hem of her sleeve instead. “Perrin wrote asking you if, um, if you felt any affection for our family . . . for me, specifically . . . if after his death you would consider—” She shielded her eyes with her hand to create a barrier between her and poor, naive Shem. “If you would—”

  “Don’t say it,” Shem stopped her. “I think I know where this is going.”

  Mahrree dared to peek at him.

  Fortunately he was smiling, albeit in a mortified manner. “If Lemuel found a letter from Perrin giving me permission to you know, he may have assumed much more was already going on between us. That’s just how his mind worked. No doubt Genev read that letter as well. Their official story probably grew directly from it.”

  “Oh, Shem,” Mahrree winced, “I’m so sorry! We both are. Perrin had actually forgotten about the letter until just yesterday. I’m not sure how he worded it, but—”

  “But it was likely much more direct than either of us is expressing it right now,” Shem decided. “And I’m glad he’s not here, because his bluntness would have done both of us in! It’s all right, Mahrree. Perrin had only the best of intentions. None of us could have seen this coming. Besides,” he paused and examined his own sleeve hem, “I think perhaps over the years I may have been a bit too close at times. I should have been more guarded around all of you. Especially you.” He looked up at her miserably. “Can you forgive me?”

  Mahrree shook her head at the pleading in his eyes. “I really can’t imagine there’s anything to forgive. You’ve done nothing but protect us from dangers we never knew about, and saved us in many ways.”

  His face remained bleak with concern.

  “But Shem, if it makes you feel better, I forgive you of anything and everything.”

  He finally seemed hopeful. “Really?”

  Mahrree was surprised. “Of course. Shem, you’re one of the best men I’ve ever met, and any woman would be lucky to have you. Especially a school teacher from the north. Isn’t that funny? That’s exactly how Perrin found his wife.”

  “It’s not funny,” Shem smiled. “It’s perfect.”

  ---

  Early the next morning Shem was on his way to bring Calla home. The guide, without any meddling from Mahrree, had suddenly found business that needed to be done in Norden and thought Shem would be best to handle it for the next two days.

  It was in the afternoon of the third day when Shem arrived home at his father’s house to find his sisters Yudit and Nan with Mahrree, going through papers in the eating room. He dropped his pack and glared at the three women whose conversation stopped as he opened the door.

  “What are you three up to? None of you live here.”

  “It’s my fault, Shem,” Mahrree said, glancing at his sisters. “Now that the teacher lectures are finished, I’ve been asked to give weekly presentations for the community about the recent history of Idumea, and your sisters were showing me your reports home so I could correlate some dates.”

  “It was my idea,” Yudit said, looking guiltier than she should. “Mahrree explained her dilemma at not having any of her notes, so I suggested we look through your things.”

  “She has a library card, right?” Shem said. “She could check out some books.”

  “That’s right,” Nan said cheerfully. “Still, it’s good for her to have your opinion, don’t you think?”

  Shem sifted through the pages on the table.

  “Well?” said Yudit.

  “Well what?” Shem said.

  “Norden!” Nan cried. “How was it?”

  “North of here.”

  Yudit tried again. “Did Calla get there safely?”

  “Of course.”

  “Did you meet her family?” Mahrree asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And?” said Nan.

  “Her father never left my side. Never knew a man could have so many questions.”

  “What kind of questions?” asked Nan.

  “Army stuff.

  “Is that all?” Yudit pressed.

  “Should there be more?”

  Shem’s sisters looked at Mahrree.

  She was studying his face. “Did you like her family, Shem?”

  “They were a bunch of nosy women. Felt just like here.”

  Mahrree blushed but Shem’s sisters were obviously used to this.

  “When do you think you’ll see her again?” Nan asked.

  He only shrugged.

  The sisters looked again at Mahrree.

  She was nearly squinting at him in her analysis of his completely blank expression. “So it was a good trip, Shem?”

  Shem sighed. “Where’s Papa?”

  “At my place,” Nan said.

  “Then I’ll be at your place talking to Papa. Be sure to clean this up when you’re done.” And he promptly left the house.

  The women sat in silence until they were sure he was gone, then Yudit and Nan turned on Mahrree.

  “So what was he saying? He barely seemed to move a muscle!” Yudit grabbed Mahrree’s arm in her death grip.

  “Anything? Anything at all?” Nan asked.

  Mahrree shook her head. “Nothing. Not even an ‘I need to talk to Perrin look.’ But then again, he and Perrin were really good at this.” She folded her arms. “But he didn’t look sad, did he? If something had gone wrong, the wrinkles around his eyes would show it.”

  Nan nodded. “If he was angry he’d be huffing, too.”

  “Maybe it’s worse,” Yudit said softly. “When he was a little boy and depressed, he’d completely shut down. There were times when he would be so sad—probably missing our mother—that he’d just sit in a corner and stare at the wall.”

  “But I don’t remember him doing that since he was seven,” Nan reminded her. To Mahrree she said, “He used to be such an emotional boy. He and father cried more about our marriages and new babies than we did. But after a coupl
e years in Edge he was much more reserved.”

  “We thought maybe he might be having the same problems others had,” Yudit added. “Some men would come back from the world dark and angry, incapable of feeling normal emotions. Not even joy at a baby’s birth or sorrow at a loved one’s death.”

  “The world was too heavy for them,” Nan said. “People in Salem have soft hearts and souls. The world doesn’t just harden them, it shatters them. More than twenty years ago Guide Hifadhi said that the longest anyone could be gone would be two years, because after that it was hard to bring them all the way back again.”

  “Some never even came home,” Yudit whispered.

  “So your family must have been worried when Shem wanted to stay with us,” Mahrree said.

  “Yes, we were. And we watched him closely,” said Nan.

  “But Shem was allowed to stay because of your family, who Guide Hifadhi felt Perrin was,” Yudit said. “Obviously it was the right choice.”

  “Except for moments like this,” Nan said, “when you apparently don’t know our little brother as well as we hoped you did. I was expecting more from you, Mahrree.” She glared playfully and Mahrree shrugged an apology. “When they left the other morning, I was sure Shem would come home bursting with good news. My daughter Elza saw them as they passed her house and she said they were laughing.”

  “I tried to send two of my boys to follow them for a while, but Shem saw them and sent them home,” Yudit said.

  “Probably good for them that Calla is in Norden. Give them a little privacy,” Nan hinted.

  “But it doesn’t sound like they got much,” Yudit shook her head.

  “And we’re not helping either, are we?” Mahrree said.

  The three women sighed and sat in silence.

  “Perrin!” Mahrree finally whispered. “Shem tells Perrin everything . . . I think. Something like this, he’d go to his brother, right? Good news or bad?”

  “He would!” Yudit agreed and Nan clapped her hands.

  “But wait. He didn’t ask for Perrin,” Nan reminded. “He wanted to talk to Papa.”

  “Maybe he was already at my house,” Mahrree suggested.

  “So what are we waiting for?” Yudit leaped to her feet, grabbed a stack of papers, and said, “Mahrree, we should take these to your house.”

  Five minutes later the three women stomped into the Shin home, dropped the papers in untidy piles on the table, and looked at each other expectantly.

  Mahrree walked over to the stairs. “Perrin? Are you home?”

  “Yes,” called down a voice.

  “Have you seen Shem?”

  “In the past week?”

  “I mean today?”

  “Maybe.”

  Mahrree frowned. “What do you mean, maybe?”

  “What do you mean, what do I mean?”

  Mahrree threw her hands in the air and started up the stairs.

  But Perrin came trotting down. He slowed as he saw Shem’s sisters. “Ah. It’s an inquest, is it? Trying to play Genev in Salem?”

  “No,” said Mahrree unconvincingly. “We were just . . .” she waved her hand at Yudit.

  “Just wondering how our little brother is, that’s all. He seemed a little . . .” Yudit looked to Nan.

  “Uncommunicative,” Nan said.

  Perrin gave her half a smile as he came down the rest of the stairs. “Now I wonder why that is. Not having sisters, I wouldn’t know, but I imagine he may have walked into his home after a long trip—”

  “It’s less than four hours by wagon,” Yudit told him.

  “—found three women lying in wait—”

  Mahrree thought she saw a movement outside the gathering room window. It looked like boots at the top of the window.

  “—and all the poor man wants is to maybe sit down and rest—”

  The boots were followed by a body which fell to the ground in front of the window.

  “Shem Zenos! Stop!” Yudit yelled as the body took off in a fast run down the road, laughter fading in the distance.

  “—but instead he has to sneak out of houses just to get some peace and quiet. You three are unbelievable,” Perrin finished.

  “He said he was going to my house!” Nan said.

  “And he thought you would be on your way there right now. Why the change in plans?” Perrin asked.

  Mahrree started to laugh. “Because we thought he had come here first to talk to you.”

  Perrin shook his head. “We’re getting rusty already. When it takes less than half an hour for three middle-aged grandmothers to track him down . . .”

  “I’m not a grandmother yet!” Mahrree protested.

  “Who are you calling middle-aged, Grandpy? You’re only one day older than me,” Yudit put her hands on her hips.

  Perrin reflected just as much wounded pride as Yudit. “He told you about calling me Grandpy? And I helped him escape!”

  “The point is,” Nan held up her hands between Yudit and Perrin who were eyeing each other good-naturedly, “what did Shem say?”

  “Nothing,” Perrin said. “You three showed up just as he was sitting down to talk.”

  “Did he look happy? Sad? Heart-broken? Excited?” Mahrree prodded. “Did he give you a look?”

  “Yes. It said, Three women are chasing me. Hide me.”

  “Oh, you’re useless!”

  “I would have been of more use if you had not barged in.”

  “So where would he go now?” Yudit asked, scratching her chin.

  “The children just got out of upper school,” Nan said. “They’ll be coming home soon.”

  Yudit nodded. “If we fan them out from this house—”

  “Whoa!” shouted Perrin. “Enough! Leave the poor man alone.”

  Yudit raised her eyebrows at him. “This is what we do, General Shin. Track down our brother and get him to talk. Certainly you can appreciate that.”

  “Yes I can. But why don’t you let him do things in his own time, in his own way, all right?”

  Nan nodded reluctantly and Yudit sighed. “Just what Shem needed—a big brother to fight for his cause.” Yudit looked askance at her sister. “Not sure this is going to be a good development.”

  “Oh, I think I got here just in time,” Perrin decided.

  Yudit pointed at him. “As soon as you hear something, you tell Mahrree, all right?”

  “Only if he wants you to know.”

  After the sisters left, scanning for their missing brother, Mahrree put her arms around her husband.

  “I’m not telling you anything,” he said as she snuggled into him.

  Mahrree stiffened. “So you do know?”

  Perrin chuckled. “He didn’t have time to say anything, although I could tell he wanted to. All he said was, ‘I’m back and—’ That’s when we heard the door blow open and he headed out the window.”

  “I’m sorry. I really didn’t think he was here. So now what?”

  “We give him time and we let him do things at his own pace.”

  “You make a terrible big brother.”

  Chapter 24--“Just leave me alone

  for a while?”