Several of the young men blinked in confusion.
But the draft horse grinned in anticipation.
Gleace glanced at Hifadhi to see if he noticed.
He did.
Gleace smiled at the line. “Deceit, my dear young men, is indeed an art. Good thing we have about twelve weeks’ time . . .”
---
Chairman Nicko Mal stood in the hallway of Command School, his hands clasped behind his back, and a small, somewhat unnatural, smile on his face.
As the young men marched orderly out of their classrooms and towards the mess hall for their midday meal, they each paused in their stride, stunned to see the man with white hair, long red coat, and black trousers.
“Hello, men!” he said with unusual cheeriness. “Fine group of officers we’re teaching here, I see. Don’t mind me, go get to your meal. Can’t have our future leaders weakening now, can we?”
A few purposely caught his eye, but he didn’t focus any additional attention on them, so they continued on. But one lieutenant did receive a prolonged gaze from the Chairman, and it caused him to drop his books.
“Oh, let me help you with those, son,” Mal said brightly as he squatted to help him gather his scattered notes.
The rest of the soldiers picked up their step, eager to get past the hapless soldier who garnered the attention of Nicko Mal.
“Thank you, sir,” the young man said, fumbling to stack his books again, “but I’m sure I can handle it.”
“Now, now, Lieutenant Heth, what kind of leader would I be if I didn’t take care of those who serve me?”
Heth risked a timid smile as the last of the soldiers entered the mess hall. He and Mal stood up in the corridor, and Mal placed the stack of pages on Heth’s pile of books.
“Still haven’t heard from your younger brother?” Mal whispered. “Been over a year since his late night visit to you, isn’t it?”
Mal had asked him—no, shouted—that same question in a raging fit just a couple of nights ago in Lieutenant Heth’s dormitory room. Perhaps the leader of the world thought the answer would change if he asked it again in a different time and place.
Heth shook his head, almost imperceptibly. “Since he left I haven’t heard anything from him.”
“Neither have I,” Mal grumbled. “Not sure what to make of it. It’s almost as if he’s vanished. Keeping very low and quiet.”
“Maybe he changed his name,” the former Sonoforen suggested. “Would be wisest.”
“I considered that as well,” Mal nodded once. “Which would make him as difficult to locate as the other missing son of the last king,” he said with a deliberate squint.
The young man who should have been king after his father’s execution—had he not been illegitimate and in hiding—only nodded at the current leader of the world.
“Should you hear anything, you’ll be sure to notify me immediately,” Mal told him.
Heth nodded again. “Absolutely, sir. In the meantime, is there anything else—”
“No,” Mal cut him off. “Not yet.”
“I could leave school early, and—”
“Oh no, Lieutenant,” Mal said firmly. “You of all people definitely need to finish Command School.”
Heth’s expression fell.
Mal smirked. Every future officer thought he was something special; otherwise, he wouldn’t be in Command School.
“But eventually the time will be right, Heth. Currently we’re priming the pump, shall we say. Discovering how to create the ideal set-up.”
“And I’ll be your first choice when your research is done?”
Mal smiled thinly at the eager mutt. “Men who have personal motivation are far more effective than those who are merely curious or simply following orders. I have shelves of studies to prove it. And anyone with a personal vendetta against the officer who had his father killed will likely be far more driven than just a regular soldier. You will be the first choice.”
---
“So . . . anything?” Perrin asked many weeks later as he watched his wife closely. Their now one-year-old daughter Jaytsy was asleep in bed, and her parents finally had a moment to themselves.
Perrin put a hand on Mahrree’s enormous belly and waited.
Mahrree just stared at him, her mouth hanging open and her eyes unblinking.
Perrin tried to jiggle her immovable belly. “It’s been thirteen weeks since the forest incident, little kicker. It’s safe to come out now!” He looked up into his wife’s face again.
She still hadn’t budged, simply too shocked.
“Hmm,” Perrin frowned. “I thought for sure that—”
“THEY WERE AFTER ME?!” Mahrree suddenly bellowed.