Hogal and Tabbit exchanged glances. Tabbit immediately recognized the rector’s look of, We need to be alone, dearest.
Tabbit nodded at her husband, got out of her chair, and went over to kiss her niece’s son on the cheek. “You’ll find a way to succeed, Perrin. I have complete faith in you. Mahrree, Jaytsy, and the new baby will all be fine.”
“Thank you, Auntie.” He gave her a practiced smile.
After Tabbit left, Hogal said, “Perrin, why did you come to see me? You’re surrounded by far more experienced men than me in matters of battle and Guarders.”
Perrin stared at the table. “About eleven years ago I sat with you talking about things,” he said vaguely.
“I remember,” Hogal smiled. “That was a wonderful time.”
Perrin scoffed. “I was an insufferable eighteen-year-old beast! You’re too kind. Always were.” He paused, then said, “One evening you were teaching me about . . . the Refuser.”
Hogal nodded slowly. “I remember that quite well, too. What did I say to you then?”
Perrin continued to examine the table, yet without fully seeing it. “That he was a son of the Creator who refused to take this test we’re all in, and that many of the Creator’s children followed him into exile. Their spirits are here, in this world. While the Creator gave us this world, the Refuser stole it for himself and has sought to control and destroy those of us willing to take the test. He’s here, with those who followed him, making this existence as miserable as possible.”
“Very good,” Hogal said. “You could teach it for me this Holy Day.”
Perrin didn’t smile.
“But that wasn’t all I told you, was it, my boy?”
Perrin shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “You said something else that I’ve chosen to forget over the years, but keeps coming back at the most unexpected moments. It came back again today, when I opened this message.”
“What did I tell you eleven years ago, Perrin?”
After a long pause, Perrin said quietly, “That the Refuser knows me intimately. That while he hates all of us, he feels that hatred even more keenly for me. There are a few he most ardently seeks to destroy, and I am near the top of that list. The world really is out to get me.”
Hogal sighed. “Perrin, you have no idea how hard it was for me to say that to an eighteen-year-old boy. But you had to know it. I didn’t know if I would ever get another chance, and I also knew I would never get a decent night’s sleep until I did. For weeks I was plagued with the same dream and the same message that I had to deliver to you.”
“Why me, Hogal?” Perrin whispered. His chin began to tremble and he pressed his lips together tightly for a moment to regain control. “Why my wife? My children? They’re so innocent.”
“I really don’t know, Perrin.” Hogal’s voice grew husky. “You must have a great future ahead of you. Enormous power, influence, abilities. The Refuser targets those who can do the most damage to him and his plans. You could take it as a great compliment that he hates you so much.”
Perrin rolled his eyes. “I’ve done nothing special, Hogal! Not as if I’ll do anything important, either.”
“What did you tell me you were going to become, the first day of that visit eleven years ago, Perrin? Remember?”
Perrin closed his eyes. “I don’t want to be a general anymore, Hogal,” he said. “I look at what my father does, and who he does it with—I want nothing of that life. But I could never tell him that. I don’t ever want to leave Edge. I can’t be the general.”
Hogal put a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t think about that right now, Perrin. Much can happen in the next twenty years. Think instead about the next twenty days. Or twenty minutes. You’re not alone in this. When the Refuser targets someone, who steps in to help?”
“The Creator,” Perrin said, his voice breaking.
Hogal slid the note over to him. “Here’s the first bit of assistance. Someone with knowledge, on their side, went to extraordinary measures to get this to you.”
“And I wonder why.” Perrin picked it up. “If they’re so evil—”
“Not necessarily, Perrin. Each one of us has tendencies towards good and evil. The test of this existence is to see how often we listen to one side or the other. What do we truly crave, the light or the darkness? Whoever sent this to you has spent much of his life in darkness, but occasionally a spark of light catches his eyes, triggers his conscience, and reminds him of who he truly is—a child of the Creator, not a slave of the Refuser. For one moment the author of that note followed that memory and was seared by a conscience he’s neglected for who knows how long. I’ll pray tonight that he clings to it.”