“So,” Mahrree sighed happily, “we can be absolutely sure we know the truth about Shem Zenos?”
Her husband only swallowed and went back to his dinner.
That’s why Mahrree stared now at her new book, wondering exactly what to write. Shem had been over the afternoon and evening before, staying with the children so that she could go with Perrin to do the final inspection of the new small fort in Moorland. She didn’t even think twice about leaving Jaytsy and Peto in Corporal Zenos’s devoted care. Shem was their little brother, after all. The children called him Unk and ran into his arms whenever they saw him.
The three of them were sound asleep together on the sofa when she and Perrin returned late last night. The sight of her children snuggled in Shem’s ample arms was so adorable that Mahrree committed it to memory.
“He really is the sweetest soldier ever, isn’t he?” she said to her husband, who merely sneered good-naturedly at her.
But still Mahrree was plagued with suspicion.
Was it really just coincidence that Shem noticed the Guarder raid first that Weeding Season? Or had he been watching for it? And if he had, why did he let them succeed in reaching the village? Just how much on Mahrree and Perrin’s side was he then? Was he more now?
She tapped the feathered end of the quill on the paper.
Shem was theirs, she was sure of it. In fact, the question hadn’t even entered her mind again until she started thinking about it just now.
She shrugged and started writing instead about Hogal and Tabbit’s passing, about Shem’s injury, and about Perrin’s new measures that were now being implemented throughout the entire world.
She chuckled as she wrote about High General Shin’s suggestion to put a simple log cattle fence at the edge of the forest to slow down the Guarders attempting to run across the barren field, and her husband’s dumbfounded reaction that he hadn’t thought of that himself. Yesterday he set two crews of soldiers to begin felling timbers along the river for the long beams.
Mahrree’s writing strayed into the Shins’ visit and the assassination attempt, that really wasn’t officially an attempt, but Mahrree and Perrin had wondered if maybe—
She scribbled out the last two sentences she wrote.
“Oh, that’s smart,” she shook her head. “Yes, put down in writing that you suspect Shem Zenos to be something . . . else. That the lieutenants were something . . . else. Don’t even know if it’s the same ‘else’! Should this ever fall into the wrong hands . . . Sorry Shem, I simply lost my head for a few minutes.” She dropped her quill and folded her arms. “I wonder if the guides ever struggled with knowing what to reveal.”
She looked sadly at the page where she’d so carefully recorded, then so violently crossed out, words that could do far too much damage. There was only one thing to do.
Cringing, she tore out the first two pages of her beautiful new book and threw them into the fireplace.
“Sorry, Mother Shin. Well, this is hardly a promising beginning,” she chuckled sadly, looking at her now-blank book again. “Maybe this is why people don’t always keep their own writings. Whatever isn’t boastful is embarrassing, or shameful, or libelous. And if it’s none of those things, then it’s downright boring!”
She sighed loudly and looked over at her worn copy of The Writings on a shelf, wedged between other books. There were many incidences in their ancient history which were less-than-glorious, but certainly memorable. Maybe that really was the purpose of The Writings: to show not everything is charming, funny, and happy every day. She read the set-backs and failures of her ancestors so she could see how they endured those dark days to see the sun shine again. And it always did.
She shut the cover on her own bound pages, retrieved her copy of The Writings from the shelves, and sat back down.
How did their ancestors write about difficult things?
She opened the book to the saddest words in The Writings, the last warnings from Guide Hierum, the first guide chosen by the Creator. She had hoped, when her mother gave her the copies of her family lines, that she would see she was descended from the Great Guide. But to her disappointment, she wasn’t. Still, she admired him more than any other man who had lived. Her chest burned, either with the power of his last words or the dread of them. They always seemed timely, no matter what time she read them.
I warn you now that we cannot continue in the ways we are now. Our lives and existence on this world are not forever. An end will come.
In the arguing among our people I see the seeds of antipathy and apathy that will grow to destroy the world we are striving so hard to create. We’re drifting from the structure the Creator left us, and if we continue on this path our descendants will not be found faithful at the Last Day when the test ends. What we do today affects our children and their children. For their sakes, we can’t continue down this way you are planning. I know your secrets, and they will destroy us all. I beg you to abandon this!