“Oh Mahrree, I already feel weak and nauseated,” Perrin moaned. “What did she do for tablecloths? And who needs tablecloths?!”
Well,” his wife smiled, “she had some leftover cloth from tapering the banners, so . . .” Mahrree’s eyebrows rose in suggestion.
“Let me guess—the pink striped is prominently in the middle?”
“You are smart. Now I see how you got to be the major.”
Shem burst out laughing, but rolled away fast enough that the major’s elbow caught the wood of the tower instead of his corporal.
Cringing in pain, Perrin allowed his wife to help him to his feet. Mahrree turned to offer a hand to help Shem up, then she put her arms around both of their waists and pretended her small frame could support both of their large ones as they limped along.
As the three of them approached the crowd, the people parted and cheered. Even Magistrate Cockalorum and Chief Curglaff were grinning and applauding, and Shem noticed that neither of them seemed to regard him as a ‘convenient spy.’
Winning hearts and minds. Yes, Shem knew the lessons too, and could probably teach a few things to the major.
Karna, now standing next to Mrs. Peto behind a table, was the only one not clapping. Instead he held up a piece of cake, took a big bite, and nodded at the racers.
The major pointed an accusatory finger at him. The corporal glared at him.
Karna only shrugged innocently.
As Mahrree led them to the tables, Perrin groaned. The tablecloths were miniature banners stitched together to make one large, colorful mess of cloth. Over the head of his wife he looked at Shem. Shem returned the same look of, For crying out loud. Then they both smirked painfully.
But they kept their promise to Mahrree, and neither one of them said a word.
---
It was a rare moment for Mahrree. No children were clinging to her—they were being tended to by some of her former students. Her mother had refused to let her help serve the cake—Hycymum wanted all the praise for herself. So Mahrree took advantage of the quiet moment, stepped back to lean against a tree, and watched “her boys” from a non-meddling distance.
The crowd loved—completely and absolutely loved—Edge’s Strongest Soldiers. They sat on chairs in the middle of the dying grasses, recently nibbled short by sheep, so that the hundreds of well-wishers could dote on them.
Captain Karna had really captured the spirit of the day, Mahrree decided. Not only had he sent a wagon and a couple of soldiers to help her mother bring all of the cake to the green, but he’d also set up the winner’s circle. Perrin was perched on a large chair covered in thick red cloths. Up close you could tell they were typical drying cloths he could use to wipe himself, but from a distance they looked suspiciously like the red cloth the kings reportedly had covering their throne.
The loser’s chair, however, was a tiny thing—looked like a child’s stool, actually—with one dingy gray rag on it. When Shem sat down on it, as ordered by Karna, the contrast to Perrin’s “throne” was absurd. Shem’s head was far lower than Perrin’s, and he had to balance to keep from toppling over. Edgers had been laughing steadily at the scene for ten minutes now. Shem, to his great credit, took it all in stride.
Mahrree just grinned as she watched the flow of people swarm Perrin and Shem. If Edgers had been afraid of Major Shin, they didn’t seem to be now. In fact . . .
Mahrree squinted to focus on individual faces.
In fact, many of the women seemed quite taken by him. Mahrree scrunched up her lips before deciding she didn’t have to be jealous. It hadn’t occurred to her before that the majority of women in Edge didn’t have such a specimen of manhood at home, so naturally they were admiring hers.
Perhaps it was because Perrin’s jacket was at the fort, and the thin sleeveless undershirt he wore clung to him so well. He was drenched—likely from sweat and from pouring water over his head at some point—which only made the white cotton hug his form more distinctly. Mahrree chuckled to realize that even his damp round shoulders seem to catch the light and glisten in the sun. His solid chest and stomach stretched the shirt to its limits, and the muscles of his arms, normally hidden by his jacket, bulged with extraordinary definition.
The women noticed.
Their eyes traveled all over him as they waited for their chance to speak to him. Maybe Perrin didn’t know what it meant when a woman chewed on her lower lip, took extra deep breaths, licked her lips, or dragged her fingers over her arms or throat . . .
Oh, yes he did, she smiled to herself.
But—and she loved him all the more for it—he looked only into the eyes of those who fawned over him.