“And it’s my guess that Miss Mahrree may be your type!” Hogal winked.
Perrin ignored that comment and focused on the pie. “And you already scheduled another debate?”
“Oh, she suggested it, my boy,” the rector told him. “She’s quite thoughtful. Just like her father, one of the wisest men I ever knew. And she might be considered pretty, too.”
“Looks aren’t everything,” Perrin muttered as he broke off another piece, but something in his voice suggested they were part of the equation.
“She reads a lot. Tends to get a little outspoken, but I think you saw that,” Hogal mused, trying to see any reaction on Perrin’s face.
But Perrin kept looking at his plate, pushing bits of berries around with his fork.
“But at least she thinks!” Mrs. Densal interjected. “It can be difficult to find young women who care for anything more than popular dress colors.”
When the captain didn’t respond, the elderly couple looked at each other and communicated silently.
The rector cleared his throat. “I’m intrigued about your presentation of the topics. First, you receive that message from Idumea—”
“He’s always sending me weather reports,” the captain said offhandedly.
“Curious that he should, considering that the weather we have in Edge one day is visiting Idumea the next. Reports should be going the other way, I would think. Or perhaps he’s just drawing your attention to the color of the sky?”
The captain didn’t answer, but took another bite of pie.
The rector smiled at the avoidance tactic. “You wanted her to choose the color of the sky debate, didn’t you? Did you decide that before or after you laid eyes on her?”
Perrin shrugged without looking up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Another bite of pie.
“Of course not,” Hogal said, with a slow nod. “She did rather well, I thought. Took you on quite handily. In about five more minutes, she would have humiliated you. Maybe that’s why you cut the debate short?”
Perrin suddenly stopped and stared at his plate.
“But you made great strides in proving to the village that you and the army are not lingering death tools of the kings,” Hogal assured him. “You even earned a few smiles, nods of approval, and one hearty round of applause. Excellent work tonight, my boy.”
Perrin just studied his nearly empty plate.
“You know,” the rector said with a chuckle as he rearranged some of the dishes set for their breakfast, “I was just thinking, she doesn’t live too far away from here. Just north and east. Rather along the way to the fort, I would think. It’s kind of funny, it’s easy to find her house. It’s the only one without a proper garden. The woman cares nothing for maintaining her yard. She cares only for her books—and her students, of course.”
When this failed to draw any kind of response from the captain, Mrs. Densal tried. “I was just wondering what color Mahrree’s hair could be described as. It’s too dark for blonde, and too light to be brown. I have the same question about her eyes. I’m not really sure what color they are . . .”
Perrin stabbed his last piece of pie with more effort than needed and said, “Greenish-gray. But more green,” then put the fork into his mouth. Something in the air suggested he decided not to add, “with little flecks of golden brown.”
The rector and his wife exchanged triumphant looks. Rector Densal cleared his throat to begin again when Perrin finally looked up.
“Please don’t do this,” he said in a low voice. “I don’t need to be made to look like a fool in love in my first major assignment.”
“Oh, come now Perrin. How can we make the son of the High General of Idumea look like a fool?” Mrs. Densal asked. She looked at his empty plate and slapped the table. “I almost forgot!” She stood up, took a mug from the cabinet, turned to the cold cellar, and filled the mug with milk.
Perrin’s hand automatically went up to his forehead in embarrassment as she placed the mug in front of him.
“I know what you’re going to say: milk’s for children. But you’ve always eaten my pie with milk.”
Perrin slowly shook his head and fingered the mug. “I’m not a boy anymore. And if I want to find a wife, I can do it on my own. If!”
He gulped down the milk.
Mrs. Densal smiled. “That’s not what your mother said. By the way, I’m writing her tomorrow and I’ll tell her how nice you looked tonight.” She took a dish cloth, licked a corner of it, and rubbed one of the shining silver buttons on Perrin’s chest.