The Forest at the Edge of the World(28)
Sonoforen remained motionless. “They told me that’s the story you’d give.”
Mal smiled kindly to show the dog who really cared for him. “And who is ‘they’?”
“My father’s servants. Ones I found not long ago.”
“Think about this, son. I’m an old man, a university professor of animal behavior, and never held a blade in my life. Shin is more fearsome in his fifties than he ever was in his twenties, and is in command of more than ten thousand soldiers. Who, really, is the greater threat?”
Sonoforen sighed.
“It’s a difficult balance I keep with the High General, Sonoforen. Right now I have just slightly more power than he does. Without my administrators, the army would be ruling this world, and that is not a world either of us would want to live in.”
Sonoforen squirmed. “Then he needs to die,” he whispered.
Mal nodded once. “But that would be very difficult to do. Especially with the way you do things. What animal is waiting outside to swift you away from the scene of your crime? A goat?”
Sonoforen just stared at the desk.
“A sheep, then,” Mal said sadly. “Sonoforen, Shin is a strong, cunning man. You’d never succeed. Not without help.”
“I’d do anything,” Sonoforen said, lifting his eyes to meet Mal’s. “Work with anyone, do anything, to get my revenge.”
“Are you serious about that?”
“He killed my father!” Sonoforen barked. “Denied me my throne!”
Mal’s mouth pursed. “What kind of a relationship do you still have with Dormin?”
“None,” Sonoforen murmured.
“Any other connections with family? Girlfriend? Friends? Acquaintances?”
“Chairman Mal, if you’re trying to figure out who I have waiting outside to help me the answer is . . . no one,” Sonoforen muttered in embarrassment. “Not even an animal. My cat ran away last week.”
“So you were just charging in here and hoping to . . . wing it?”
“You’re point is well made, sir!”
Mal clasped his hands together and rested them on the desk. A desperate, homeless mutt. Perfect.
“Sonoforen, how would you like to get your revenge? Not through a rash, ill-thought out plan, but in a rational, organized, and effective manner which will yield results that will not only appease your desires but will also lend me a great deal of research?”
Sonoforen blinked. “What in the world are you talking about?”
“First, we change your name to something less obvious. How does Heth strike you?” The corner of Mal’s mouth went up slightly. “Then tell me what you know about Guarders.”
---
Mahrree sighed for the twelfth time. Usually it was the six-year-olds in her morning class that couldn’t concentrate for more than five minutes, not the eight teenage girls in the afternoons.
“If you really want to know that much about the captain, you should have come to the debate!” she chided as Hitty asked yet another question about how many medals he had on his uniform. Mahrree hadn’t noticed. “Now, we need to get back to our discussion—”
Hitty raised her hand again.
Mahrree groaned.
“Really, Miss Mahrree, this has to do with the discussion.”
“Do you remember what the discussion was about?”
Hitty nodded. “The history of the Guarders.”
“Good. Now remember, many of your parents contacted me this morning to make sure we went over it, considering that the fort will soon be ready. They’ll be quizzing you tonight, so understanding the nature of the Guarders is not only vital to your welfare, but also to your passing this class. Be grateful, because we were to be discussing developments in sugar production in the south. So Hitty, I will happily answer any questions regarding Guarders.”
Hitty put her hand down and tossed her straw-colored hair behind her, as she did every five minutes. “If the Guarders return, and they invade the village, with what hand will the captain fight them? My mother said he wore a very large sword.”
The girls erupted into fits of sniggers as Mahrree practiced her best glare.
Hitty kept her face impressively still, but finally broke into a smile of embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Miss Mahrree,” she whispered.
“His right.” Mahrree sighed for the thirteenth time. “He wore his sword on his left side, so that he can draw it with his right hand.”
“If his sword is large, then that means he’s very strong, right?” Sareen asked in a giggle. The poor girl couldn’t speak without an accompanying giggle, which made her brown curls wiggle.
“Could you tell how strong he was, Miss Mahrree?” asked another dreamy-eyed girl. “You were closest to him. My mother said he was very tall and had a chest like an ox!”