Soldier at the Door(218)

The Administrators were winning.

I’m such an idiot. And so is Sareen.

“Sareen, promise me you’ll look at other young men, too,” Mahrree said. “Just in case Shem never . . . comes to his senses to see what he’s missing in you.”

Sareen nodded, the cheeriness automatically returning as if she had practiced that happy look a dozen times a day to be sure it appeared authentic. “I will, Miss Mahrree.” She turned to head down the front stairs.

“Please be careful, Sareen! Run home!”

Sareen waved that off. “Look at the tower. No fires, no banners—nothing’s wrong. The forest is completely quiet and I’m perfectly safe. Good night!”

“Good night,” Mahrree whispered at the willingly naïve, stupid girl.

Edge was full of them that night.

She slowly shut the door, hung up her cloak, and trudged heavily to the kitchen. Barker lay at the back door, already asleep despite his filth.

“Who is it, Barker? And why? How do they—?”

She sighed, took the grooming brush from out of a drawer, and plopped down on the floor in the dark kitchen next to the dog.

“You realize I’m asking you because I know you can’t answer, right? I’ll ask every question in the world as long as I know I won’t get an answer.” Her words choked her with a renewal of humbling disgrace, and with tears streaming down her face, she started to brush the burrs and twigs out of Barker’s thick black fur.

She was completely surprised to hear the back door unlock and someone push on it a moment later.

“Barker! Get away!” Perrin’s voice came through the door.

Barker only grunted, and Mahrree took him by his legs and dragged him away from the door.

Perrin pushed it open and saw her in the dim moons’ light. “Mahrree! What are you doing up so late?”

She had honest answer. “The dog just came home and he’s a mess. I was trying to clean him up a bit. Didn’t feel like sleeping.”

Perrin slipped into the house and shut the door behind him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you’d still be up, worried.”

That would be her alibi, she decided as she picked out burs and brushed the fur.

Perrin sat down next to her and ran his hand over the dog to catch the twigs. “What in the world has he been up to? Last time I saw him was yesterday evening. And what’s with that smell? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was rolling around in bear droppings.”

“You know about that, huh?” Mahrree asked, hoping her tone sounded light and teasing.

“Stepped in some right outside the forest once,” he confessed in a whisper. “Looks like he had a good time, whatever it was.”

She didn’t respond.

He kissed her on the cheek. “I really am sorry I didn’t send a messenger. I could never find Zenos, and I thought you would figure what was going on. And what was going on was . . . Well, we still don’t know,” he sighed in frustration. “Gizzada said he saw you around midday meal and filled you in a bit.”

“He did,” Mahrree said as cheerfully as she could muster, glad he couldn’t see her lying face. “Did he bring you two sandwiches like I ordered him to?”

Perrin chuckled quietly as he continued pulling out burs. “I’ve never before had a sandwich made with the meats of three different animals, and since he also added goat cheese and lettuce, then put it on oat and barley bread, I felt like I was devouring an entire farm. But somehow he made it work, quite well. He should sell those in the market. I couldn’t even finish the second one and didn’t get hungry again until about an hour ago. Is that pie on the work table?”

“Yes,” Mahrree said. “Blackberry. Do you want some?”

There was absolutely nothing wrong with the words she spoke, but so much emotion came out with them that it sounded as if she was trying to conceal the fact she had murdered their children.

Perrin heard it.

“Mahrree, are you all right?” He put his arm around her and pulled her close.

“Yes,” she lied again, unconvincingly.

“At times like this I remember my father’s only advice about women: when they’re crying but claim they’re fine, they’re the biggest liars in the world.”

“You have no idea!” Mahrree burst out.

“Ah, boy,” he mumbled to himself. “Not getting to bed anytime soon, am I?” He gave her a squeeze. “So tell me, my darling wife—what I have done now?”

“Nothing! It’s not you, it’s me!” she said shortly, and went back to brushing the dog a bit too aggressively.

She wouldn’t cry. Not anymore. She’d already proved she was weak and worthless; crying would only emphasize that.