The captain pulled out the slip of paper, read it, then looked around. “All right, who put this in here?”
Mahrree held her breath. Not the girls, not the girls, she silently begged.
“It states,” he announced, “Debate the merits of the Jor house being painted that sickly shade of blue.”
Mahrree exhaled and grinned. “Next!”
“Hey,” someone yelled from the front. “I like that blue. What’s wrong with it?”
“It looks like the cheese in my cooler when I forgot about it for a season!” someone else shouted.
“Next, please!” called Captain Shin over the laughter.
The rector held up the basket again.
Mahrree took out the next slip and shook her head. “People, come now. ‘Debate the merits of Mr. Arky being allowed to eat his dinner in any room of the house.’ Is this really from the children?”
The captain took the paper. “I think we can handle this one.”
Mahrree shook her head and said in a loud stage whisper, “You obviously haven’t met Mrs. Arky yet.”
“Let it be heard!” called a voice that sounded suspiciously like Mr. Arky, followed by howls of laughter from his neighbors.
The debaters looked at each other with small smiles and together called, “Next!”
Something in that moment made Mahrree’s chest burn again. She didn’t have time to think about it because Captain Shin was pulling out another topic.
They spent the next fifteen minutes discussing the qualities of stone versus wood in home construction. He defended stone and easily took that round, describing some of the ruins Terryp found in the deserted areas to the west that survived untold ages.
He won over the children, however, with a ridiculous explanation involving three talking and industrious sheep, and a wolf with an unusual lung capacity. Clearly, building with straw was the worst option of all.
Much to her chagrin, Mahrree found herself completely absorbed by his outlandish story—complete with surprisingly high-pitched voices for the sheep, and an even deeper-than-normal-for-him voice for the wolf as he threatened to “sneeze their houses down.”
But even her chagrin faded rapidly as she watched him in action, his booming wolf roar drawing squeals of terrified delight from the younger children, and laughter from their parents.
She was falling for him.
While the audience murmured amused doubt about the authenticity of the captain’s story, Mahrree pulled out the next slip. “Which is better, living in Idumea or living in Edge?” She burst into a grin. “I’ll take Edge!”
To her surprise, Captain Shin sighed heavily before saying, “I’ll take Idumea. If I must.”
Mahrree spent the next ten minutes detailing every quality and attribute of Edge as the greatest next-to-smallest village in the world. Only Moorland was more sparsely populated since it sat at the base of the largest mountain, Mt. Deceit, and no one in the world appreciated mountains. She carefully avoided saying anything antagonistic about Idumea or the Administrators as she gushed about Edge’s people, entertainments, music, food, rivers, schools, shops, services, houses, farms, orchards, and ranches. If she had time she would have gone on about each family she knew, but she could see the captain was waiting his turn.
At last she turned to him and said, “Now it’s your time to dazzle us with tales about Idumea.”
Instead he slowly shook his head. “Am I really supposed to follow your moving tribute of Edge with my feelings about Idumea? No, Miss Peto. You see, in Command School we took courses on diplomacy—”
“Is that something like Officers’ Charm School?” she interrupted. She wondered if teasing was considered flirting.
The audience laughed and the sudden rise of emotion came over the captain’s face again, just as in the last debate, as he fought back a laugh.
“Something like that.”
“And how often did you have to retake the course until you passed?” she asked sweetly.
He waited until the laughter died down before he answered.
“Just know that I passed.”
He had to wait another moment for the audience to quiet again before he could continue.
“And in those classes we learned that sometimes no response is the best response of all. Look, Miss Mahrree,” he said in a loud stage whisper he fully intended the villagers to hear, “I’m trying to earn some credibility in Edge. It wouldn’t do me any good to regale you with reasons why Idumea may be considered superior. Let’s just say that I look forward to experiencing all the qualities of Edge for myself. I’ve already enjoyed many.”
The villagers laughed and applauded his non-argument, and Mahrree folded her arms smugly at her easiest victory over him yet.