Soldier at the Door(12)

Then he forced himself to shake the traitorous thought out of his head.



---



The second year of Mahrree and Perrin’s marriage had flown by even more quickly than their first. It was a nauseating, exhausting, sweet, gratifying, terrifying, sleepless, fantastic blur.

There were many events and funny things Mahrree had decided she should would write down, but she always forgot until it was in the middle of the night and she was up with someone small, or using the washroom, or was awakened by the churning in her belly or the snoring of her husband, or by an irrational fear, or by a legitimate concern, or simply up because nothing had waken her up and she was worried that nothing was waking her up. That’s when she thought she could record what she wanted to remember, especially those days in the last Raining Season when she and Perrin sat on their bed on the floor in the gathering room and did nothing but watch Jaytsy and tend to his stitches. But even then she kept putting off stepping away from it all just to record it for later.

Before she realized it, it was the 38th Day of Weeding Season again, 321, and the evening of their second wedding anniversary. This year the Shin family was celebrating. Half of the family was asleep; the other half would be soon. The sky was a magnificent combination of swirling deep reds, purples, and blues, but Mahrree was the only one who noticed it.

They were on a blanket in the middle of their now very small yard in a bed of yellow weedy flowers. Their garden had shrunk considerably since the latest addition to the house was completed several weeks ago. Perrin had done most of the work himself after his stitches had healed.

Tonight Jaytsy kept leaving the blanket to practice her new trick of walking. She loved to hoot after the occasional cart and driver that passed.

Five-week-old Peto, born on the 91st and last day of Planting Season, with thick brown hair and pale blue eyes, slept snuggled into his mother.

Mahrree sat next to her husband who lay on the blanket with his eyes closed. He promised he wouldn’t fall asleep but Mahrree knew what his slow deep breathing meant.

They had been talking about the amazing changes that had happened in the past two years, but neither could stay coherent enough to complete a complicated thought. A few moments ago Perrin’s words had dribbled away in a slur of slumber.

If anyone had asked them to debate now, Mahrree concluded, it would have been about whose turn it was to change which child’s soiled cloths. And halfway through the discussion they would have asked each other what they were talking about.

But Mahrree’s mind was quite fully occupied tonight, and she’d spent many weeks—moons, actually—trying to find a way to express all that cluttered her mind. Lack of sleep disorganized her, but also seemed to embolden her.

Tonight, on their second anniversary, she decided it was time to confront Perrin. She couldn’t wait for them to not be tired. She’d be a grandmother by then.

Besides, her husband should be used to ambush situations.

“Perrin?” she said, glancing at the gate to make sure Jaytsy couldn’t escape the yard.

He grunted drowsily.

“Have you ever wondered what it would be like if we could have more than two children?”

That woke him up. She knew it would and she fought down a smile.

“What did you say?” he blurted out as he rolled over to look at her. His eyes were bleary as he tried to focus them. “You birthed Peto barely five weeks ago, and . . . what did you say?”

“I said,” she began, and realizing there was much he wasn’t going to understand this evening, tried a different direction. “I’ve been thinking. About the village. About families. About . . . what if families were allowed to have more than two children? If they could have as many children as, as, as the Creator allowed them? If women didn’t have to take The Drink after the second child?”

Perrin propped himself up on his elbow and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “Oh, that’s what this is about. You’re worried about The Drink. I told you I’ll come with you. Don’t worry—the mixture has improved since our mothers’ time. It’s supposed to be quite painless now. I didn’t realize that was on your mind.”

“No, I wasn’t worried about taking The Drink until now, and I thank you for reminding me about it,” she said grimly. “But actually, I was thinking about something more. We got our two children so quickly, and just as quickly it will be over. Not that I won’t be happy to sleep again, but somehow it doesn’t feel right to me.”

Perrin watched her for a moment, as if trying to work out her direction. “I don’t remember you ever talking this way before.”