Safety Assured Leaving East of Medicetti

The next morning Perrin and Shem were in conversation about the routes through the mountains when they heard the loud knocking on the door downstairs. They ignored it, since Mahrree would answer it. But a moment later, another knock came at Perrin’s study door.

  “Come in,” he called.

  The door swung open and there stood a scout in his green and brown mottled clothing. Perrin and Shem looked up at him in surprise.

  “Shem, General,” the scout said hurriedly, “there’s a problem approaching the glacial fort.”

  “What kind of problem?” Perrin asked.

  “Two men, in civilian clothing. But they’ve been identified as some of your former soldiers.”

  “Who is it?” said Perrin.

  “We’re pretty sure it’s Lieutenants Radan and Offra.”

  “Jon?” Perrin gasped.

  They hadn’t noticed Mahrree standing by the door until she spoke. “Offra? Perrin, what are you going to do?”

  He glanced at Shem. “I think we need to have a little talk with the lieutenants.”

  The scout shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, sirs. I’ve been sent to find out which method you want us to use to distract them, not invite them.”

  “Think about it,” General Shem said to the scout. “Why would they be here? They made it through the forest, I’m assuming?”

  “They reached the boulder field yesterday. Took them four days, though.”

  “And then through the boulders?”

  “This morning, yes. Remarkably, they found one of the footpaths. They abandoned their horses at the boulders and now are slowly making their way to the canyon.”

  Shem let out a low whistle. “That was too easy. I don’t like it. Not one bit. We should have been warned earlier.”

  “Agreed,” Perrin said. “In fact, we’ll create a set of banners just for that very eventuality. The next time someone sets even one foot into the forest, I want to be notified immediately!”

  “Yes, sir,” the scout fidgeted. “We didn’t think they’d make any real progress, and we thought we moved quickly—”

  “Well, you did. Just not quickly enough for my tastes.”

  “This isn’t Idumea coming, is it?” Mahrree asked nervously. “What Guide Gleace was telling us about?”

  “No, not at all,” Shem insisted. “We knew something like this could happen, someone getting lucky in the forest and boulders. It’s always been our belief that anyone who was brave enough to make it through the forest should be allowed to go untouched. But we’ll never let them get past the glacial fort.”

  “Why?” Mahrree asked, panic rising in her voice. “What will your scouts do to them?”

  “Nothing!” Perrin insisted. “Because I’ll deal with this myself.”

  The scout sighed. “Guide Gleace was afraid you’d feel that way. I spoke to him first.”

  Perrin was already on his feet, reaching for his dark leather jacket that was slung over his chair. “He’s also given me the authority to do whatever I see necessary to keep Salem secure,” he said, putting on his jacket. “And if these men are successful, so will be others. And then Salem’s secret is out.”

  “So what are you going to do?” Mahrree asked again. “I like Jon Offra,” she reminded him.

  “I like him too,” Perrin assured her. “I’m just going to . . . wait for the Creator to inspire me.”

  Mahrree sighed and looked at Shem.

  Shem shrugged at her. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

  The scout exhaled.

  Half an hour later General Shin, Assistant Zenos, and the scout were riding hard to the Second Resting Station. There was an updated report from the glacial fort when they arrived: the lieutenants were making their way up the canyon very slowly, unable to recognize the faint paths created by Salemites.

  “That’s good to know,” Perrin said. “That means we have time.”

  “To do what, General?” one of the scouts at the station asked. “We have ways of distracting, you know.”

  “I want to see Jon. Somehow I feel it’s important.”

  “But that’s not the way we—” The scout stopped when he saw Shem shaking his head.

  “Remember when I told you at one of our training sessions that Shins never do things like everyone else? This is one of those moments. It’s usually just better to sit back and let them go.”

  The scout turned to Perrin. “Orders then, General?”

  Perrin slowly grinned. “What are Salemites—or Guarders—known best for doing?”

  The scouts looked at each other and shrugged.

  Perrin grinned wider. “Kidnapping!”

  ---

  It was their fifth day, and Jon couldn’t have been more astonished at their progress. They survived the forest—in fact, it wasn’t that bad. Given enough time, Jon was sure he could probably decipher all the dangers and even find paths through the trees.

  What they didn’t see, interestingly, were any Guarders. There was no evidence anywhere of the masses of men they saw the night the Shins disappeared.

  But then again, maybe there weren’t masses of men. That was the story, but Jon already knew much of the story originated in the mind of Commandant Genev. Trying to remember what was the story and what was real was already becoming harder. He glanced up at the sky to see its color. It was mostly blue, but the white puffy clouds shouldn’t be ignored.

  Staring up at the mountain filled Jon with new worry. It was massive. Rocky. Steep. He and Radan had been trying for the past few hours to make their way up it. They struggled around rocks, slipped on gravel, and both had scrapes and scratches to prove it.

  “Are you sure this is the right direction?” Jon asked as Radan slid down another steep patch.

  “No!” Radan snapped, brushing gravel off of him. “I don’t know what might be the right direction for anything. I just know we have three more days of exploring before we can even think about returning! And do I need to remind you we have yet to find evidence of anything?” He wiped his brown shirt and groaned in displeasure at seeing another small rip.

  Jon didn’t dare admit that he’d forgotten about finding ‘evidence.’ He was more worried about finding a safe way out of there. “I don’t see another source of water except for that river down there,” he felt he should point out. “Our flasks can hold enough for only one day, and—”

  “Look,” Radan said, “unless you have something helpful to say, keep it to yourself. We’re supposed to be—what was that?”

  Jon looked in the same direction as Radan but didn’t see anything. “What am I looking for?”

  “A movement! Definitely a movement up there on that . . .” he didn’t know how to refer to it, “that jumble of rocks.”

  “Maybe deer?” Jon offered. “Seen their droppings—Wait. I saw it too.”

  It was a figure in dark clothing, but too far away to see clearly before it vanished behind a tall bush.

  Instinctively the lieutenants crouched, trying to use scrubby oaks as flimsy shields.

  “Guarder?” Jon whispered. “Finally?”

  “Maybe,” Radan said, his voice none too steady.

  Radan’s sudden attack of nerves made Jon feel better about his own. He swallowed down an anxious lump and watched the rocks for any movement. He thought he saw something, but it was gone again.

  “Over there, beside that boulder,” he whispered to Radan. “Something like a shadow moving.”

  Radan only nodded, his eyes scanning.

  In dreadful silence the two lieutenants watched the slope above them, waiting for something to happen.

  A pebble tumbled down from somewhere far above.

  Both men watched it nervously as if it’d grow into a boulder by the time it reached them.

  But it stopped at the scrubby oak which poorly hid them, and a few more pebbles began to bounce down the slope. Then more. Then larger rocks, the size of fists, rolled in their direction as if something had disturbed the terrain above.


  Or was purposely rolling rocks their way.

  “Should we move?” Jon whispered in worry.

  “But then we’ll be seen!” Radan said.

  “That’s better than dying in a rock slide!”

  “True—”

  The tumbling gravel turned into a full rock cascade, which made the decision for them. They dove to their left, toward another cluster of trees, and scrambled to the next meager shelter.

  Grabbing the trees to steady themselves, they panted to catch their breath.

  “See anything?” Jon gasped as he eyed the slope above them.

  Radan peered back up the hill. “No. Nothing.”

  Jon shielded his eyes from the sun. “Maybe he left?”

  “Or maybe he’s right here,” said a deep voice from the other side of the trees.

  Both lieutenants jumped in terror as the brush moved aside and a large man in black stepped through.

  Unexpectedly, he smiled at them. “Hello, men. You both look well. Sorry for what’s about to happen to you.”

  Jon would have cried out, “Colonel!” But then his head hurt, he smelled burlap, and the world went black.

  ---

  “Yeah, he’s starting to come around.”

  Jon heard a voice in the haze of his headache. He was lying down somewhere, but couldn’t yet focus.

  “Take it slowly, Jon,” said someone familiar. “Whenever they planked me, I couldn’t think clearly for several hours. You got hit pretty hard.”

  The voice was too much for him to ignore. He struggled to sit up and rubbed his eyes. “Colonel? Colonel! It really is you!”

  Perrin chuckled and took another wet cloth to put it on Jon’s head. “Yes, it really is me. Now what’d I say about taking it slowly?”

  “He’s going down again,” another familiar voice said as Jon’s head swirled. “Lie back down, Jon, and we’ll explain things to you.”

  He looked to the other side and saw Shem Zenos sitting nearby.

  Instantly he recoiled. “You!” he started, but he was cut off.

  “Shem’s not a betrayer, Jon,” said Perrin. “He saved us. Don’t believe the stories. None of them are true.”

  “I know, sir.” Jon said, trying again to sort all of the different versions he knew about the end of the Shins which, he was thrilled to realize now, was not the end. He started to nod but regretted the movement as he gripped his head. “I saw you in the forest, right before Thorne was struck by the lightning.”

  “Is that why you’re here?” Perrin asked. “Looking for me?”

  “Yes, sir. Sent by Thorne.”

  “Oh, no,” Shem sighed. “Thorne knows they’re here. Perrin, that changes things.”

  “I know, I know. But it’s still salvageable.”

  “What is, sir?” Jon asked, his eyes more clearly focusing on the colonel. He seemed different, and it took Jon a moment to realize why. His black and silver hair was much longer and even curled slightly, and his clothes more casual. Jon glanced over at Zenos and noticed his light brown hair was also just as shaggy.

  Jon could tell he was in a building of some sort, with a high pitched roof that reminded him of the tops of trees. He was on a narrow bed, not in a surgery, but something more rustic. He didn’t even notice the door until he heard a voice come from behind it.

  “General, the other one is still out.”

  Perrin turned to the man in green and brown clothing. “Thank you, Winter. Tell me as soon as he regains consciousness.”

  “General?” Jon ventured.

  Perrin smiled easily and waved that off. “Just a title. Makes them feel better about things.”

  “And who, exactly, is them?” Jon asked.

  Perrin pointed at him. “That’s one of the answers you’re looking for, isn’t it?”

  Jon pushed himself up to a sitting position again. “Sir, please know that I don’t want to report anything back to Thorne. Spending my vacation weeks searching the forest for evidence of your death, or that of your daughter’s, wasn’t my idea. Although what I found exceeded anything I could have imagined, and I must admit—I’m pretty glad I came!”

  Perrin and Shem exchanged a complicated facial tick, and Perrin turned back at Jon. “I believe you. But we still have a big problem. You’re going to have to report something back to Thorne, and Radan’s going to be waking up soon to find himself surrounded by guards. Somehow that’s going to get back to the captain. Thorne’s still only a captain, right?”

  Jon dared to smile. “He was sure he’d be made major by now. But Commandant Genev is in charge of the fort.”

  Perrin shuddered with Shem. “Genev as commandant. Well, that can’t be fun for anyone now, can it?”

  Jon’s smile faded. “The whole world has changed. You wouldn’t recognize it. But you! You’re still alive!” The urge to hug the colonel—the general—nearly overwhelmed him.

  Perrin must have seen that in his eyes. He reached over and squeezed his shoulder. “I’ve always felt badly about never saying a proper goodbye to you. I’m quite happy to see you again, Jon. I’ve been worried about you.”

  “Really, sir?” He hoped the colonel-general didn’t hear his voice quavering.

  “Of course. Of all my soldiers, you had the greatest potential. Even Mahrree saw that.”

  Jon swallowed. “Your wife, sir? Is she . . .”

  “Perfectly fine and healthy, Jon. So is my son, my son-in-law, my daughter, and my granddaughter.”

  Jon’s shoulders sagged in relief. “A granddaughter. Congratulations, sir.”

  “She’s a lot like her grandfather, too,” Shem said. “Black curling hair, big brown eyes, and the loudest voice you’ve ever heard.”

  Perrin glared good-naturedly at his friend but added, “She’s absolutely adorable. Yes, I admit it—I said adorable.”

  “Sir,” Jon said, “you should know that Captain Thorne was most anxious to receive news about your daughter. He was sure you abandoned her in the forest, or that she gave birth somewhere. To a boy.” He cringed, worried about the colonel-general’s reaction, and decided not to tell him that Thorne thought it would be his son.

  “So that’s what he’s thinking?” Perrin scoffed. “We suspected he was after Jaytsy, and probably my grandson? And then what?”

  Jon shrugged. “Sir, I’m not sure. He’s given us three weeks to find proof of something, and we’ve spent about five days so far.”

  “So two more weeks, then, before he expects them back?” Shem said, rubbing his smooth chin. “That gives us time to come up with something.”

  “Sirs, please—exactly where are we? And what happened that night in the forest last year?”

  Shem shook his head, but Perrin nodded.

  “No, Perrin,” Shem said. “You can’t explain it to him. He already knows more than he can handle. When he goes back, he’ll never be able—”

  “That’s why he’s not going back, Shem,” Perrin said steadily, looking Jon in the eyes. “He’s staying here, with us. There’s nothing back in the world for him, right Jon?”

  Aside from his bucket-living great aunt who didn’t recognize him? “Well, not really—”

  Shem stood up abruptly. “Perrin, I put up with this taking of the lieutenants just to appease you, but we can’t keep them like . . . like kittens! If they don’t return to Thorne—”

  “—he’ll assume they died in the forest,” Perrin decided. “We’ll take their clothes and tear them to shreds, sprinkle some deer blood on them, leave them somewhere obvious so the fort will discover them and assume that a bear ate them!” He grinned. “Worked for us.”

  Shem threw his hands in the air. “But it didn’t work, Perrin! It was a huge mess! And if Thorne’s been holding on to whatever delusions he’s imaging for this long, he’ll keep trying to find Jaytsy.”

  Now Perrin stood up and put his hands on his waist. “How many people have you stolen out of the world over the past years?”

  Shem cocked hi
s head toward Offra. “Why do you insist on exposing him to even more? What kind of danger are you trying to put him in? I’ve told you before, we limit knowledge to protect—”

  “He’s one of us, Shem! I’m not sending Jon back to that world. To Thorne? To Genev? What kind of existence is that? We snatch the worthy ones out of there. No one’s more worthy than Jon Offra.”

  Jon, fascinated by the argument overhead, blushed at the compliment.

  “I agree!” Shem said loudly back. “But we can’t be sure that—”

  “General?” a voice interrupted the argument. The man called Winter said, “The other one is starting to come around. Do you want us to remove the bag from his head?”

  Perrin and Shem both sighed and looked apologetically at the other.

  “We’ll finish this discussion later,” Perrin nodded to his friend.

  Shem nodded back once. “In private.”

  Perrin turned to Jon. “What’s Radan hoping to accomplish?”

  “He was transferred to Scrub, right after you died—after you vanished,” Jon corrected himself. “He wants to get out of there. I think he’s got some plans, but he hasn’t shared them with me. Actually, he hasn’t shared anything with me.”

  “So he may have his own agenda, and not just Lemuel’s?” Shem speculated. “Thorne’s being undercut on every side, isn’t he?”

  “Good,” Perrin said with a cold smile. “But it sounds like Radan wouldn’t initially be too interested in staying with us, does it?”

  Jon shook his head. “No, but sir, I’ll stay! I don’t even know where I am, but anywhere with you sirs is better than the world.”

  Perrin turned to Shem. “Now how can we argue with that?”

  Shem rubbed his forehead, for once. “Please, Perrin—let’s deal with Radan right now and leap over one canyon at a time.”

  “Just relax here,” Perrin said, putting his hand on Jon’s shoulder and squeezing it. “We’ll get back to you. If you need anything, just ask. Food, water, clean clothes—we can get you anything.”

  Jon gripped the general’s arm. “Thank you, sir! I certainly have missed you.”

  Perrin winked at him, and he and Shem slipped out the door.

  Jon sighed, sat back against the wooden wall, and closed his eyes in sheer contentment.

  ---

  Perrin headed for the reception area where Radan was being held, but Shem caught his arm.

  “No,” he said.

  “No what?” Perrin asked.

  “You’re not going to see Radan. Not yet.”

  “But—”

  “Look, Radan’s not Jon. When, at any point of serving with Radan, did you find him to not be an opportunistic and self-serving rat?”

  “That’s rather harsh—”

  “Well?”

  Perrin shrugged. “Never felt I could trust him further than I could throw him,” he admitted.

  “Exactly. Even Jon doesn’t know why Radan’s here. Shouldn’t that give you cause for alarm? We need to find out his agenda first, before he even knows we’re here.”

  Perrin fidgeted. “Uh, he may have already seen me. And heard me.”

  Shem clenched his teeth before saying, “You spoke to them before they were rendered unconscious?”

  Perrin swallowed.

  “All we can hope,” Shem quietly seethed, “is that Radan won’t remember. So stand back here, where we can listen. And only listen,” he emphasized.

  ---

  Radan could tell his hands were bound with rope, even without seeing them. The old potato bag over his face prevented that. It was obvious what had happened: he and Offra had been captured by Guarders. His head pounded from the blow he’d received to knock him unconscious, and for all he knew he’d been there for hours.

  He opened his eyes. Through the rough weave of the cloth he could just make out a few shapes and light. It was still day, but the shadows around him suggested he was indoors. Likely a secret camp.

  “We know you’re awake,” said a harsh voice. “Why are you here?”

  “I’m just looking,” Radan answered honestly. “My friend and I were exploring, and we—”

  “Lies!” the voice bellowed right in his ear.

  Radan flinched as the word bounced around in his aching head.

  “No one explores! No one gets through the forest! How’d you do that?”

  “It took us days,” Radan said. “We moved carefully and slowly. We’re just interested in exploring. We didn’t intend to find any—”

  “LIES AGAIN!” the voice screeched. “How stupid do you think we are?”

  “I don’t know,” Radan said. “Stupid enough to bring me to your camp?” He fully expected to be slapped or kicked for that answer.

  But instead he heard a low chuckle come from another part of the room. “Good point,” that voice said quietly.

  So that’s how they were playing it, Radan decided. Bad Guarder, Good Guarder. They practiced something like that at the fort in Scrub, ever since the idiot commandant took over. The problem was, no officer ever knew who was supposed to be “good” and who was supposed to be “bad.” Everyone wanted their chance to beat the villagers instead.

  “How did you get through the boulder field?” the first voice demanded in his ear.

  “We found a path. Took us forever to get through, though. Kept getting lost. But we prevailed, because we’re explorers.”

  “Looking for what?!”

  “I guess we’re looking for you,” Radan said as casually as he could, squinting through the mesh to see his captors. He could almost discern the outline of his interrogator. “Always wanted to know who might be up here, guarding this land.”

  “It’s enough, it’s enough,” the voice from the corner said. “Release him.”

  Radan felt the ropes be untied, and someone help him up, not unkindly. The cloth bag over his head was removed, and he found himself face to face with a little old man, who grinned at him.

  “Tell me I at least had you worried for a moment.”

  Radan blinked rapidly at the brightness around him. “You’re more fearsome in voice than in appearance,” he said to the tiny grandfather.

  “I know!”

  “Who are you people?” Radan demanded.

  “Well, I tend to do the cooking—” started the ancient man.

  “So where the slag am I?” Radan noticed four more men, larger, younger, and stronger, dressed in green and brown mottled clothing, standing guard.

  In front of him stood a middle-aged man who said, “Now, now, lieutenant: We don’t allow that kind of language here. This isn’t a profane fort, but a sanctuary.”

  “You know who I am?” Radan swallowed.

  “We do. My name is Winter, and you’re Lieutenant Radan. We know of everyone in the world,” he said smoothly. “Now, why have you left that world?”

  He didn’t know how to respond as he stared up into the five faces watching him closely. The little old man had shuffled off somewhere, and in the distance Radan thought he’d heard pots clanking.

  “Where’s my companion?” Radan demanded.

  “Here,” Offra said, standing unsteadily at a door. Strangely, he seemed rather happy. “Can you believe it? They actually exist!”

  “And who is they?” Radan asked sharply, glaring at his captors.

  Winter smiled vaguely. “They are us. And you are now very far away from home. Would you be so kind as to tell us why you are here?” He said it politely, but his eyes were cold and hard as he studied Radan intently.

  Radan’s instinct was to shout and fight and thrash, but something else was tapping at the back of his head, an understanding that none of this was expected, none of this was right . . .

  And . . .

  And just what kind of promotion would Snyd and Mal bestow upon the officer who discovered that, under the very nose of High General Thorne, the Guarders were again rising in power?

  Radan knew they were waiting for an answer, and he fra
ntically came up with one.

  “You say you know who I am. Therefore you must also know about the world I’ve just left. Since Colonel Shin died, everything’s fallen apart. I’ve tried to be a loyal officer, but I was in the forest the night the Shins were lost. I saw things that didn’t quite seem right.”

  He watched their eyes closely, and thought he saw veiled approval and agreement.

  “I need to know the truth,” he told them, with as much sincerity as he could muster, “and I’m willing to do anything to find out what really happened. Even if the truth is seemingly impossible to believe, I want to believe.”

  The man called Winter, who hovered over him, relaxed slightly. “Nice little speech there, Lieutenant Radan. We’ll see just how much you mean that.”

  ---

  In the next room, Perrin elbowed Shem eagerly, and started for the door. But Shem caught his arm and swung him back.

  “Didn’t you hear him?” Perrin whispered urgently. “He’s willing to believe the impossible. Let’s show him me, the impossible!”

  “Opportunistic,” Shem reminded him. “Self-serving. Radan’s going to say whatever he needs to say. He is not ready.”

  ---

  Radan tried to sit up, but Winter shook his head. “You’ve been down for quite a long time. Your body needs time to adjust from the effects of what we did to you.”

  “And what did you do to me?” Radan asked nervously.

  Winter smiled. “Nothing lasting. You may, however, remember a few things strangely, so don’t rely too much on your last memories. What do you remember last, by the way?”

  Radan pondered. Rocks, pouring down on him. Then a man in black . . .? He shrugged.

  “Boys,” Winter said to his guards, “we need to show the lieutenants just where they are. If you would be so kind as to accompany each of them?”

  Winter led the way out of the narrow building, and the guards stood on either side of Offra and Radan as they followed him.

  But Radan was plotting, thinking, and memorizing as much as he could. Remember everything, remember everything—

  He blinked rapidly as they were led into the blinding sunshine. Shielding his eyes, and ignoring the pounding headache, he stared in alarm at what he saw.

  On every side mountain peaks jutted upwards, completely ringing him. The grasses he stood in were damp, and sections were still covered in snow. To his left he saw a large blue pool, similar to what dotted the landscape in Idumea and Pools, but no steam was rising off of it.

  “Are we on top of the mountains?” Radan dared to ask.

  “Yes. Ever been sedated before?”

  He shook his head.

  Offra gaped. “This is . . . amazing!”

  “This is also,” Winter told them, as their guards stood exceptionally close to the officers, “very far away from anywhere you know. We want you to realize that while we won’t keep you tied up, you are, essentially, our prisoners. There’s nowhere for you to go, so don’t even bother, unless you wish to die. If the elements don’t get you, the wolves will.

  “However,” Winter continued, his tone convivial, “can you imagine a more beautiful place for your confinement?”

  Radan glanced at him. “And for how long will we be confined here?”

  “Well, we’re not too sure about that yet,” Winter admitted. “You see, our men in charge are still debating as to what to do with you.” Seeing Radan’s worry, Winter added, “Your life is secure while you are with us. We don’t want to harm you. Just . . . do the best things for all involved.”

  Radan knew an ambiguous answer when he heard one. He was the king of them. “So when do we meet these men in charge?” The identity of the leader of the Guarders, revealed to Snyd, would, undoubtedly, propel Radan past the promotion of major. He just might be Lieutenant Colonel Radan by next moon.

  “In time,” Winter said easily. “In time, I’m sure. Until then, the men in charge have tasks for you.”

  Radan tried to hold back is glower. No doubt he and Offra were about to do with something menial, such as hammering apart some of the boulders around them—

  “Do you boys enjoy reading?” Winter asked.

  “Excuse me?”

  Offra chuckled. “Sure do! What do we get to read, Mr. Winter?”

  “History,” he said. “The way we know it to be.”

  “You mean,” Radan blinked in surprise, “we’re going to do . . . homework?”

  “Yep!” Winter said as he led them back to the strangest looking building Radan had ever seen.

  Remember that it looks like a grove of trees, he told himself. A grove of trees—

  “Because, boys,” Winter said, “your education is just beginning.”

  ---

  Later that night, as the lieutenants rested in nets in the sleeping quarters, Offra said, “So that historian guy actually made it all the way over to the ruins? And he spent weeks there, making rubbings of engravings and tracing pictures of strange animals and wandering around massive block buildings? King Querul the First’s soldiers were with him, too? Wow. They never told us any of that in school.” He chuckled ruefully.

  “No,” Radan said shortly. “They didn’t.”

  “And that guy Terry? Terrell? What was his name? Who wrote all those stories?”

  Radan sighed. “Have to admit, seeing a book that’s over a hundred years old was pretty surprising.”

  “Elephants,” Offra whispered. “I remember something about them when I was just a small boy. Never told us in school, though. And those other animals?”

  “The stories were pretty outrageous,” Radan hinted.

  “But I think that was the point,” Offra said, rolling over to see Radan. “Why they showed us that book, to show that what’s real is different than what we’ve been taught. All that stuff is . . .” he yawned. “I’m too tired. Anyway, something like that.”

  “Yes,” Radan said slowly, “something like that. Still, making us draw pictures of those animals the book described? I felt like I was six years old again.”

  “Yeah,” Offra said drowsily, “that was kind of fun.”

  “To be treated like children? If you say so. I still want to meet the men in charge, who think we can’t handle anything more adult.”

  “Oh, we will.” Offra’s voice was drifting away. “We will . . .”

  Radan stared up into the darkness as Offra began to snore lightly.

  That old historian’s name was Terryp. One of the many details Radan recited to himself, to repeat at a later date. He’d taken a few notes, too, and secured them in his sock.

  There were a lot of things they’d never been told in school. At east, according to Winter and the guards. Lots of things the world had decided to forget.

  Why?

  That was the question Winter told them to ponder tonight. Why did the world conveniently forget?

  But that wasn’t the question Radan was pondering. His mind was fixated instead on, Who is lying, these Guarders or the old kings?

  Who should he believe: these people who want to change everything he knew about the world, or the world which will reward him handsomely for revealing that the Guarders still exist?

  He didn’t come up with an answer before he drifted off to sleep, where he dreamed about monkeys and elephants swinging and stomping around the big Administrators’ table in their headquarters in Idumea.

  ---

  Outside their door, Shem glared at Perrin. “Told you treating them like children would be demeaning,” he whispered.

  “But Jon enjoyed it,” Perrin defended. “And so did Radan, he just won’t admit it. You’re the one who told me to take ‘baby steps’ to get them ready for what we can offer.”

  Shem groaned quietly. “When I said ‘baby steps,’ what I meant was . . . oh, never mind. You’ll do things your way, no matter what I advise.”

  “Tomorrow we graduate them a bit,” Perrin promised. “We’ll implement some of the lessons your scouts teach people in
the world, about the Queruls and their true nature, and Guide Pax.”

  Shem eyed him. “Will you let Winter teach it as it should be taught?”

  “Of course,” Perrin said.

  “And what if Radan rejects it?”

  Perrin scoffed. “I was spying on them when they were drawing their pictures. You didn’t see how much he got into sketching his monkeys.”

  “Just because he likes the idea of monkeys doesn’t mean he’s going to believe and accept Salem. We don’t even HAVE monkeys!”

  “It’ll all work,” Perrin whispered. “Just trust me.”

  “You’ve never done this before! Trust me. We have years of experience—”

  “But I know how my soldiers think, Shem,” Perrin interrupted. “The entire reason for having an army is to keep people safe. If the world were safe, we all would’ve been out of a job, and frankly, I think most soldiers wish they were. We serve only because the world needed someone to do it. But deep down, we wish we could be something else, something more. I always wanted to be a builder, you know that. And even though you were in the army for seventeen years, I knew your heart wasn’t entirely in it.”

  Shem had to bob his head in reluctant agreement.

  “Those men want something more, too,” Perrin insisted. “They want meaning. They came here looking for something else. While I don’t yet fully trust Radan, I believe he’s looking for something more than serving in Scrub under Mal’s commandants. Who, really, would want that?”

  “No one,” Shem admitted.

  “Shem, I serve now as a general because I believe in Salem and all that it represents. It’s like I suddenly see dozens of new colors I never knew existed! I want to do that for these boys—open their eyes, show them something fantastic. These young officers are struggling to figure out what they’re supposed to be doing. Shem, those boys are me, twenty-five years ago. Twenty-five long, miserable, bloody years. If I can spare them that existence, and give them this life instead, then I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  Shem could do nothing more but sigh.

  ---

  In the morning, Radan slipped out of his fishing net before Offra was awake, and made his way to the eating table in the long room.

  Because he’d woken up with a plan.

  Winter was already up, seated to breakfast. “Have a good night, Lieutenant?” he asked.

  Radan hid his smile. He was hoping for an opportunity like this. “Actually, no, sir.” He sat down across from Winter. “I had a hard time sleeping because my mind just couldn’t relax.”

  “Understandable. If you’d like, I’ve got a tea I can give you tonight to help with that.”

  Radan smiled. “That’d be appreciated, thank you. But why I couldn’t relax was that the world was too much on my mind. Now that I’m some distance away from it—”

  Don’t ask how far, don’t ask how far, his brain reminded him.

  “—I somehow feel it more, how terrible it is.” He made sure to stare at his hands as he said that. “You told us to think about why the world decided to forget about Terryp and the ruins and those strange animals, and I have to be honest—I don’t know how to think, about anything anymore. Does this make sense?”

  Winter nodded sadly. “Perfect sense. You may not realize this, but I used to be in the world. I know a lot of how it works, and I’ve heard a great deal about how it is now. I’m sorry you’ve had to be a part of it.”

  Radan wanted to shout, How do you know how bad it is? But he had to play this smart.

  “I was up most of the night with the idea of different places, different stories, even a different life,” Radan said, allowing for a little tremor in his voice. “Like you gentlemen have here. If I could escape the world, and then maybe find ways to help it . . .”

  He shifted his focus on Winter, and thought, Open and honest, open and honest. That was what he wanted the scout to see, even though Radan was fishing, recklessly and wildly, worried that he’d scare away the trout.

  But the big catch across from him wasn’t wary. In fact, he was smiling faintly. “That’s what we want for you as well, Radan. But there’s a lot you have to learn, first.”

  “That’s what I want,” Radan said earnestly. “I want you to teach me everything. And, sir,” he paused for dramatic effect, “this sounds outlandish, but . . . never mind. I shouldn’t have said anything—”

  “No, please, go ahead. You can’t surprise me.”

  Radan offered him a weak smile. “But I don’t want to offend—”

  Winter smiled generously. “You can’t do that, either. Please, what do you want to say?”

  He braced himself and said, not quite looking Winter in the eyes, “Despite my best efforts, I find myself . . . trusting you. Not the others, just yet, but there’s something about you that I just . . . feel. This is embarrassing, but in a way, you remind me of my uncle. Oh, I’m sure I’m blushing right now . . .”

  Winter chuckled. “Not at all. I’m quite flattered.”

  Ease up, ease up, Radan told himself. “I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry. But . . . I’m glad I met you. No matter what happens to me,” he looked up and met Winter’s eyes with a gaze that pinned the man like a butterfly on display, “I’m glad I met you.”

  Winter leaned back. “I’m glad I met you, too, Radan.”

  On his way to relieve himself in the washing room, with Winter following his prisoner, Radan smiled internally.

  One thing he learned from Lemuel Thorne in the time the captain was trying to impress the colonel, was that older men don’t want to be impressed. They see that threatening, as self-serving, as one-up-manship.

  What older men want, Radan knew, was to be flattered, to be idolized by the younger generation. It worked on General Snyd, it worked on his commandant in Scrub, and it was working on this middle-aged man whistling a happy ditty as he stood on guard outside of the door.

  ---

  The first words Mahrree wanted to blurt were, “He just got back from five days in the mountains!” But she held it in as Shem gave her the news.

  Instead she just whimpered, “Weeks?”

  Shem sighed. “He thinks in about four weeks both of them will be ready to join Salem. He doesn’t feel he should leave them during their transition time. While Jon knows he’s there, Radan still doesn’t. Until we know his intentions better, Perrin and I will stay in hiding.”

  “But this isn’t the way people are normally taught about Salem, is it?” Calla asked, her arms still around her husband. She had come back from Norden yesterday, surprised to find that her husband was now at the glacial fort. Mahrree had invited her over for breakfast and they were commiserating about being husbandless when Shem arrived.

  Mahrree tried not to watch them, but she couldn’t help it. Shem and Calla seemed to forget they were still clinging to each other in an awkward embrace, trying to keep her belly to the side. They talked easily with Mahrree as if hugging was a normal part of every conversation.

  Shem stroked his wife’s black hair. “No, this is not the way it’s done,” he said, irritated. “I spoke to Guide Gleace before I came here, and he just sighed and said, ‘They’re Perrin’s men. Let Perrin deal with them.’ We’re worried that this won’t end well.”

  Mahrree nodded sadly. “Jon is a possibility, but Radan? He can’t be kept here against his will.”

  “We tried that once, with Walickiah,” Shem reminded her. To Calla he said, “That was the Guarder lieutenant sent to Edge years ago. He was supposed to eliminate Jaytsy, Peto, and even Hycymum Peto, one at a time, to slowly destroy Perrin. He really believed he was on a noble errand. But I kidnapped him away, and we changed his name to Lickiah and changed his mind, too. Or so we thought. He managed to stay here a few years. But something inside him snapped, and he took off. Those early Guarders took their oaths very seriously, and he was the only one who didn’t commit suicide when he was captured. Still he died, we assume, by his own doing. I’m worried that Radan will b
e as unstable, but Perrin isn’t.”

  Mahrree squinted. “Why? Perrin’s pretty perceptive about people. You don’t think he’ll see—”

  Shem was shaking his head. “This morning Radan spoke to Winter, seemingly intent and excited about learning what we have to offer.”

  “And you are . . . skeptical?” Mahrree guessed.

  “To put it mildly. But Perrin’s convinced, and because Perrin’s convinced, so is Winter and everyone else.” Shem sighed in aggravation. “Winter and the others are good, solid men. But they haven’t been in the world recently, nor were they there as long as I was. I know the world. They’re only slightly acquainted with it. ”

  “If Guide Gleace heard you,” Mahrree began, “he’d be calling you his Cynical Duck.”

  “Someone has to be cynical,” Shem groused.

  Calla regarded him uncertainly, never before seeing him this irritated. She did the best thing she could to help him, and leaned her head against his chest. “I’m going to miss you.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “I’m coming home again tonight, and every night, because why would I want to sleep in the nets when I could be with you in—”

  “Ahem,” Mahrree cleared her throat loudly to remind Shem she was still in the room.

  He glanced sheepishly at her and nodded once. “Now,” he rubbed his wife’s belly, “should something happen with you . . .”

  “Don’t worry. Still about seven more weeks, and I’ve got company,” Calla tried to say brightly. “Lilla’s staying.”

  Shem’s eyebrows went up. “Really?”

  “Papa was up early this morning, ready to head north, but Lilla begged to stay. He reminded her that she was supposed to go on that big youth trip to Terryp’s land in a few days—”

  “Everyone gets to go but me,” Mahrree murmured.

  “—and Lilla said she could just go with our group here and meet up with the Norden one along the way.”

  Shem squinted. “Your father agreed to that?”

  “She wasn’t the only one petitioning,” Mahrree said with a smirk. “My son was right by her side, assuring Mr. Trovato that he would personally watch out for her.”

  For the first time Shem began to smile. “Oh really? And where are they now?”

  Calla and Mahrree exchanged the same look.

  “We don’t know!” Calla admitted.

  “Yes,” Mahrree said heavily. “Mr. Trovato gave his permission, Peto grabbed Lilla’s hand and said, ‘Thanks, Mr. Trovato! Lilla, I want to show you something,’ and the next thing we know they’re out the door. They didn’t even have breakfast, which, for Peto, is rather alarming.” She folded her arms.

  Shem chuckled. “Remember Mahrree, Salem’s a safe place.”

  “Oh, it’s not Salem I’m worried about.”

  “Mahrree! Peto is an exceptional young man—” Shem started, but was cut off.

  “—who was raised in the world, Shem. Yes, Perrin and I made it very clear to him what we expect, but the world was also just as direct in demonstrating how young men can treat young women. I was counting on Perrin to come home and give my son some unforgettable reminders.”

  Calla patted Mahrree’s shoulder. “That’s why I’m here,” she said. As calm and gentle as Calla was, there was a firmness in her eyes that assured Mahrree she knew how to speak to young men as well as Mahrree.

  “Thanks, Calla. I suppose between the two of us trying to keep track of them, we should have enough entertainment while our husbands are living in the mountains.”

  Shem nodded. “Perrin wanted a few changes of clothes. If you wouldn’t mind . . .?”

  She winked at Shem and Calla. “May take me at least ten minutes to gather his things,” she hinted. “I’ll be upstairs.”

  She gave them fifteen minutes before creeping quietly down the stairs. She couldn’t help but watch them again, kissing tenderly in her gathering room, Shem’s hand remaining on the bump that was his baby. It was probably a good thing Perrin wasn’t there to see them or he would be in a permanent cringe by now.

  Mahrree coughed politely and continued more noisily down the stairs with Perrin’s clothes in a bag, but the Zenoses remained locked in each other’s arms.

  It was the rapid pounding on the front door that finally broke them apart.

  Mahrree opened it to see a scout in mottled clothing. “Is Assistant Zenos here, Mrs. Shin?”

  “He is,” she gestured for the scout to come in. “He’s just . . . explaining the situation to us.” She glanced at Calla who blushed as she untangled herself from her husband.

  Shem grinned out of sheer embarrassment.

  The scout tactfully remained on the front porch. “Sir, we’re ready to leave whenever you are,” he called.

  “I’ll be out in a couple of minutes,” Shem told him.

  The scout headed back to his horse while Shem sighed at his wife. “Remember, should anything happen while I’m away, you can send Peto or Lilla—no, you probably can’t. You can send one of my more reliable nephews to the scouts, and they can come get me. Within a few hours, I’ll be here.”

  “I know,” she smiled bravely. “I always wondered what it would be like being married to someone in the army. I guess I’m getting a little taste of that now. I only wish I could watch you—”

  “No!” Shem said loudly, causing his wife to jump. “Sorry, but Calla, I want to keep you as far away from the world as possible. I wish it wasn’t as close as the canyon behind us, and I really wish it wasn’t dragging me away from you right now. I never want you to be exposed to any of it.”

  “Not even to see the sergeant major in action?”

  “Especially not!”

  “I’ll keep a close eye on her, Shem,” Mahrree promised. “She’ll be fine.”

  Calla smiled at her husband. “Go, Shemmy,” she whispered. “You have a long ride ahead of you. And I need to put away all the baby things my mother sent with me.”

  Shem ran his fingers through her hair one more time. “All right, My Love. I’ll be back tonight. I’m sorry to leave you—”

  “Remember, it’s Perrin’s fault!” Mahrree told them.

  The Zenoses shared one last kiss, and Shem patted Mahrree gratefully on the back as she handed him Perrin’s pack of clothes.

  The two women stood on the front porch watching as Shem and the scout rode off.

  Mahrree put her arm around Calla. “Sorry that my husband is taking away yours.”

  “It’s all right, Mahrree. I have a feeling this won’t be the last time Shem—”

  “You mean, Shemmy?”

  Calla went pink. “—that my husband will be needed by someone else.”

  ---

  “Calla was fine, right?” Perrin stood smugly in front of the stable doors at the glacial fort, his arms folded. “Just as I said, right? And she had a wonderful time in Norden and brought home plenty of baby things to put away.”

  Shem glowered at Perrin and threw his pack at him. It smacked him in the face, but not hard to enough to wipe off his smirk.

  “Not too happy about things, though,” Shem said as he dismounted.

  “I think it’s you who’s not too happy about things,” Perrin smiled slyly, shouldering his pack. “I keep telling you, it’s good for your wife to miss you a bit. Makes the reunions that much sweeter.”

  “I’m going back tonight,” Shem growled. “I’m not spending another night in the nets.”

  “Figured as much,” Perrin chuckled. “The lieutenants are reading some of the early histories right now, then they’ll make a list of what’s different from what they’ve been taught.”

  “And I’m sure they’re thrilled to be up here in the middle of nowhere doing homework!” Shem snapped as he marched into stables, where he and Perrin had been hiding.

  Insulted, Perrin jogged to catch up . “Hey, I thought it was a good idea. So did the scouts.”

  “That’s because they’re loyal to a fault,” Shem said under his b
reath.

  “What did, uh,” Perrin hesitated, “what did Guide Gleace think of my plan?”

  Shem rounded on him. “Again, not too happy about things! But he said they’re your former men, so if you insist on being responsible about what happens with them, he’ll let you. He’s planning to come up here, though, to see what you’re up to, but his schedule’s not clear until next week.”

  Perrin nodded in what he hoped was a conciliatory manner. “I’ll make him proud of me, I promise. Just like I promised you.”

  “It’s not up to you, Perrin!” Shem gestured wildly. “Why can’t you recognize that? You can’t control what they decide to believe. No matter how persuasive, no matter how much they respect you, they can still reject everything you say. That’s their freedom, and in Salem, we don’t take a person’s freedom or try to force our beliefs down their throats!”

  “I’m not forcing anything,” said Perrin calmly.

  “You’re holding them hostage, do you realize that?” Shem nearly wailed, but kept his voice down so it wouldn’t drift over to the fort to where the lieutenants were studying. “While it’s certainly not back-breaking labor in a dreary mine, but instead reading books in a beautiful setting, they are still being forced.”

  “So how is this different than the others you stole out of the world?” Perrin demanded. “Like Walickiah?”

  “He was out to kill your children and mother-in-law!” Shem told him. “We had to steal him away to avoid him murdering your family! But these lieutenants merely wandered too far, and we could’ve directed them back without them ever knowing about us, but no—you insisted otherwise. So tell me, what contingency do you have in place should one or both of them decide to go back to Edge?”

  “They won’t.” Perrin was full of confidence. “They’ll stay.”

  “Already you’ve decided their fate,” Shem scoffed.

  “No, no, no. I promise you, they’ll want to stay, once they fully understand—”

  “What they will ‘understand’ may not be anything you want them to. You may not think you’re forcing their minds, but your mind is already made up! There’s no alternative for them!”

  Perrin’s shoulders sagged. “I suppose you had a few in the world who didn’t want to listen—”

  “All the time,” Shem said. “More failures than we like to remember. And quite recently, in fact. I didn’t want to tell you,” his voice quieted, “but we’ve had a former rector and some scouts trying to reach Deck’s uncle, aunt, and cousin in Mountseen. We were hoping they might be able to come join us—”

  “That’d be fantastic!” Perrin said. “Deck would have family, and—” Realizing that Shem didn’t share his enthusiasm, Perrin asked, “What’s happened?”

  “They won’t even talk. Seems his Uncle Holling spent some time discussing things with Roarin’ Yordin after the incident, before Gari was sent to Sands. Our man was moving very slowly with the Briters, and mentioned that sometimes we are fed incorrect information. Well, my name came up, and . . .”

  When Shem didn’t continue, Perrin winced. “Didn’t go well?”

  “Holling Briter said he’d kill me in a heartbeat for causing his nephew’s death,” Shem whispered. “His wife Lilla and son Atlee were just as bitter. There was no hope of opening their minds, at least not yet. We’ll try again in a year or two, for Deck’s sake, but . . . just don’t tell him, Perrin,” Shem pleaded. “We may never have any success with them, and I don’t want Deck getting his hopes up.”

  Disheartened, Perrin said, “Understood.”

  “Is it really?” Shem’s gaze turned sharp. “Is it understood that some people will refuse to see a light, even if it’s shining in their eyes? People will believe what they want to believe, Perrin. A mind forced against its will is not compliant; it’s just waiting to rebel.”

  Perrin grabbed his shoulders. “But not today. This will all work out, Shem—trust me.”

  Someone cleared his throat by the doors. “Gentlemen? Perhaps keep your voices down a bit, please? The valley echoes, you know.”

  “Sorry, Winter,” Perrin said to his appointed Teacher of the Lieutenants. He brightened up. “So tell Shem what you think—how are the lieutenants responding? Go ahead, be honest.”

  Shem watched Winter closely.

  The surgeon fidgeted. “Honestly, I wish Varteeya were here, because he’s the only other current scout who served as long as I had in the world, and I’d like his opinion about the integrity of these boys, but . . .”

  He hesitated as he eyed the two men, eagerly awaiting his evaluation.

  “But . . . I think there’s potential. Great potential. Offra’s like a child in a sweets shop, and Radan impressed me with his sincerity. He feels disaffected by the world, and he wants a remedy for what aches his soul.”

  Perrin beamed. “Spoken like a true doctor.”

  But Shem merely said, “Uh-huh.” The glare he aimed at Winter suggested he’d just been betrayed.

  Winter shrank a little under Shem’s gaze, and shrugged at Perrin, his new ally. “I don’t know what else to say, General.”

  “Say that you think my approach has merit,” Perrin said cheerfully. “Because I think you’re right in what you told me earlier—it doesn’t do enough to just heal a body; you have to heal the spirit. And that’s what we’re doing for Radan and Jon. So when we reintroduce ourselves next week—”

  “Next week!” Shem exclaimed. “That’s too soon—”

  “—they’ll be thrilled to go to Salem because they’ll want to see what other surprises are in store,” Perrin declared. “Just as I enjoyed all the surprises—”

  “HA!” Shem threw his hands in the air. “No, you did not! Your memory’s as impaired as your judgment! On our first Holy Day here, you were ready to strangle me, or don’t you remember losing your temper just before Gleace appointed you as our general, because you were frustrated with all of the surprises?”

  “But Shem,” Winter ventured cautiously, remembering the story about these two men getting into a fight in a stable years before and destroying most of it. And while Winter love pulling out his stitching needle, the lieutenants were using the surgery area as a school room right now. “I think General Shin might be right, here. Offra, I have no doubt about. I can feel his heart already. I know your worry is about Radan, but I find him very focused, and he asks such deep and probing questions. He’s even taking notes.”

  “Which is exactly,” Shem rounded on him, “how someone who wants to us to think he’s willing to join us would behave!”

  Perrin rolled his eyes. “And how would he behave if he really is sincere about everything? Huh?”

  Shem hesitated. “The same way,” he had to admit.

  “There you go,” said Perrin certainly. “Believe the best about him. That’s Salem’s way, right?”

  “But he’s not a Salemite,” Shem fumed. “One of the first things I learned in the world is to expect the worst from everyone.”

  “Why are you so skeptical, Shem?” Perrin asked, his own patience growing as brittle as Shem’s.

  “Because I spent seventeen years in the world, Perrin, and by your side! You taught me to be skeptical!”

  “And you’re supposed to be teaching me about being a Salemite!” Perrin countered.

  Winter exhaled in what he hoped was a calming manner, “Voices, gentlemen. Echoes. Narrow valley . . .”

  Perrin and Shem glared at each other, so sure of their own ideas that eventually they said, at the same time, “Just trust me.”

  Winter, shaking his head, walked out of the stables. The lieutenants were a much calmer, safer set of men to supervise.

  Chapter 33--“You see what you want

  to see, Perrin.”