The Falcon in the Barn (Book 4 Forest at the Edge series) (11 page)

No . . . no, he couldn’t possibly pull off
something like that
again
, and on his own. Gadiman depended
too much on Nicko Mal, like an old school friend who didn’t realize
they hadn’t been in school together for decades, and it was fine
for him to go off on his own—

No . . . no, he’d never come to that kind of
realization and suddenly leave Idumea and the Administrators.

He likely was only . . .

Well, Mal couldn’t imagine where.

“
You think you know
me
so well,” Brisack broke into his thoughts. “But I also
know
you
very well. And I know what you’re afraid to think:
something happened to Gadiman, and he’s dead.”

“
No . . . no, I don’t think
that—”

“
You’re
afraid
to
think that,” Brisack said more forcefully as Mal slouched further
in his chair, “because if it’s true, then it proves that none of us
are untouchable. You like to claim that you’re in charge of the
world, but it’s as if the world hasn’t noticed and it does whatever
it pleases in spite of you. You claim the sky is blue, but almost
on a daily basis it betrays you. Face it, Nicko—Gadiman’s gone, and
we’ll likely never know why. Consider that maybe someone murdered
him for us. He was certainly not without enemies. We can replace
him with someone better. Genev seems to be a decent enough snitch
and desperate to prove himself. Name him as an Administrator and
let him supply us with some new subjects.”

Nicko stared off into the darkness for so
long that Dr. Brisack was about to get out of his chair and check
his companion’s pulse.

“
Give it more time,” Mal
eventually said. “Let’s see if anything turns up. Just . . . more
time—”

“
For what, Nicko? For
what?”

Nicko didn’t know how to answer him, but the
idea that the world had yet to recognize his superiority struck him
with the sudden emptiness that others in the world much less worthy
than himself likely experienced every day.

All he could do was get out of his chair,
make his way through the dark library, stagger to his state room,
and crawl into bed.

Chapter 4
~
“This is the worst Raining Season ever.”

D
ays went by, as did
weeks, and moons, and even a season and a half. By the middle of
Raining Season, Edgers were like an old house dog: fattening,
happy, and settling in comfortably for the snows. The village was
rebuilt, cellars were filled, the taxation had been paid in full,
and there was no evidence of the land tremor anywhere.

All of which struck Jaytsy as wholly
unfair.

Because nothing was better at the Shins.

There had been signs of improvement, for
three or four days at a time, when Perrin would sleep relatively
soundly, smile on the second day, maybe even chuckle on the third,
then go rampaging again on the fourth. By the beginning of Harvest
Season, Jaytsy was giving up hope that the pattern would ever
improve permanently, until the taxation came.

For a couple of weeks Colonel Shin became a
constant presence in the village, riding a horse to every farm and
ranch and large garden pretending to supervise the collection for
Iris’s demands, and spending a great deal of time in the sunshine.
He rarely left his horse of the day, however, allowing that
distance between him and Edgers to keep them from interacting,
while Shem was the soldier to cheerfully thank the villagers, slap
them on the back, praise their efforts, and gently remind them of
deadlines.

Still, when Shem decided to schedule the
Strongest Soldier Race for the same weekend as the
taxation—probably because he hadn’t seen Perrin such a good mood
for so long—Jaytsy began to believe the nightmares were maybe
finally over. Even though Perrin lost the race by several
minutes—likely because he hadn’t been running for such a long time,
except to chase down an unsuspecting villager—he was grinning when
he plodded in to the village green.

And then the next week came the rains. Dark
and cold and evil.

And all progress, Jaytsy bitterly recalled,
that her father and family had made was washed away like a child’s
mud mountain.

Now in the middle of Raining Season the world
was perpetually gray, with bland snow and washed out skies and
dirty farms.

Feeling as dreary as the world outside,
Jaytsy stared at the pages in her book—one that she had read half a
dozen times already, about girls who were too easily offended and
cried out, ‘Oh, the impertinence!’ far too often. She brooded like
her father, never before realizing how long Raining Season could
last.

All around her was noise and even some
laughter, but she didn’t notice. It was Game Day again, and Mr.
Hegek had encouraged several families to join him and his wife and
son in the training arena of the fort. Perrin used to head up these
activities, and since the weather turned colder and the need arose
again for families to gather inside, Mr. Hegek had been directing
these weekly evenings of
fun
and
frivolity
with the
soldiers.

Such meaningless words.

Colonel Shin stood in a corner, arms folded,
stance ready, eyes casing everyone and everything.

As Jaytsy stared beyond the pages of her
book, she sighed in misery. She felt as disconnected from the world
as her father. She had nothing in common with the girls at school,
and her mother was so preoccupied with her husband’s moodiness that
Jaytsy didn’t see any reason to bother her. Besides, Jaytsy had
nothing to say to her. Or to her brother. But he was usually gone
at kickball practice. Even when there wasn’t a practice, he still
went to “practice,” and she wasn’t about to give away his
secret.

It was only on evenings like this that the
whole family was together again, “together” being a relative
term.

Jaytsy peeked over the edge of her book and
noticed Peto wrestling another unwitting soldier while others
laughed at their companion’s failure.

One happened to catch Jaytsy’s eye. She
lowered the book and smiled experimentally at the private, but she
knew what would happen. His eyes grew larger and he started to
smile . . . until a sergeant leaned over and whispered something
into his ear, and the private’s brown skin blanched.

Jaytsy sighed. What those whispered messages
were, she wasn’t sure, but she had a suspicion. And it wasn’t
completely her father’s fault.

It was Captain Thorne’s. He hadn’t just kept
trying to find her during Planting and Weeding Season while she
weeded; he kept tracking her down
everywhere
. In the
marketplace, in the village, and most especially at the fort when
she happened to bring her father a meal, or on evenings like this.
A pair of eyes watched her closely, always where she least expected
them, and suddenly there he’d be: Captain Lemuel Thorne.

It happened already that evening. Her father
took up his post as other families came in, her mother sat down to
talk with Mrs. Hegek, Peto went in search of gullible soldiers
leaving the mess hall, and Jaytsy headed to the guest washing
room.

He was standing outside the door when she
came out.

“
Miss Jaytsy,” Captain
Thorne nodded to her, taking a step closer. He had the unnerving
habit of standing just a little too near.

Jaytsy always felt slightly off balance when
he was around. She had tried to give him the benefit of the doubt.
Maybe she felt off because she actually was attracted to his clear
blue eyes, his perfectly chiseled face, his muscular chest, his
straw-colored hair . . .

Nope. Not one bit.

Men should be rugged and only a little bit
handsome. Her father was almost too handsome. So was Uncle Shem.
But Thorne? Men should never be
beautiful.
She always found
herself taking a step backward, trying to get away from his scent.
It was just too pleasant. Men should smell of dirt and sweat and if
there was anything pleasant, it should be slightly sweet, as if
they just snuck some cake and bits of crumbs remained on their
chins. Men should smell like her father: earthy-sweet.

That evening Thorne smelled as if he had
rolled around in pine sap and violets. Likely something he brought
with him from Idumea to splash on his face after he shaved each
morning. It was all wrong.

“
Captain,” she said
formally and tried to make her way past him.

“
Whoa, whoa,” he said with
an unnatural chuckle as he caught her arm. “Quite a lively filly
you are tonight. Game night again?”

“
Yes. My father’s expecting
me,” she said, hoping that might alarm him.

“
He won’t miss you for a
few minutes,” he said confidently. “I haven’t had the chance to
speak with you lately. You look well.”

“
Thank you. I really should
go—”

He firmed his grip on her arm. “I’d like to
come talk to you some time. Some evening after dinner? Perhaps take
a walk?”

“
In the cold and
snow?”

“
We wouldn’t have to go
far. I could find someplace for us to warm up.”

It was his eyes, Jaytsy decided. They were
clear and blue and beautiful and told lies left and right.

“
I’m not interested,” and
she made another lunge to leave.

Still he held on to her, taking yet another
step closer. “You will be,” he said in a low voice he probably
thought sounded seductive. It just made her break out in goose
bumps—the bad kind. “You will be, very soon. I’m watching for that
moment. It’ll be worth the wait, I’m sure.”

“
I have a book waiting for
me, Captain,” she informed him.

Half of his face smiled. “Studying for your
End of Year exams already are you?”

She latched on to that. “Yes, as a matter of
fact I am.”

“
Why? You know those tests
are really only for the men. They let the girls take them just to
make them feel part of something important. But you, Miss Jaytsy,
as the wife of an officer, need only worry about looking pretty and
producing a son or two.”

Jaytsy clenched her teeth. She didn’t even
know where to start stabbing with so many targets presented. She
zeroed in on the most annoying one. “Captain, I’m not sure I
will
marry an officer. My tastes tend to—”

“
There’s no one else you
could marry, Miss Jaytsy. And no other female worthy of a man like
me.”

He glanced quickly to either side—as did
Jaytsy—and seeing no one around, he began to lean into her
face.

She ducked abruptly and pulled out of his
grip. As he was about to kiss the wall, she was already running
down the hall to the training arena.

That’s where she ran smack into the back of
her father.

“
Jaytsy!” he bellowed in
surprise as he spun around. “What’s wrong?”

“
Nothing!” she said in a
nervous laugh. “Just . . . racing myself to get here. Didn’t
realize you’d be standing in the doorway.” She backed away from his
inquisitive glare. “I’ll just go . . . sit down now. Over there.”
She retreated to her usual bench with her usual book, and looked up
at the door.

Her father had walked away to talk to a
soldier, and there stood Thorne again, his gaze intent on her. A
moment later he sidled over to a group of soldiers.

Jaytsy glanced at her mother, hoping maybe
she noticed, but she didn’t. Neither did her father. But Thorne had
stepped over to a sergeant who came to watch Peto’s wrestling
matches, whispered something into his ear, then left. The sergeant
glanced at Jaytsy, then began to watch the soldiers in the
room.

That’s why the soldier who smiled at her
fifteen minutes later received a few words from the sergeant, then
never looked her way again.

“
This is the worst Raining
Season ever,” she told the book. It was a bad time to be nearly
sixteen years old with vague dreams of meeting a young man with
gentle eyes. He wouldn’t even be able to get within ten paces of
Jaytsy before a falcon or a mountain lion would attack
him.

Struck with an idea, she slapped the book
shut and edged over to her father.

His brooding eyes evaluated her. “Something
wrong?”

“
No, no, it’s just that I
was, uh, the Briters. Do you mind if I go visit them? I had some
ideas for . . . broccoli planting, and I wanted to get Mrs.
Briter’s opinion. There’s something on the End of Year exams about
farming, and I—” She wasn’t very good at lying, but fortunately her
father hadn’t been very good at listening, either.

He shrugged. “I’ll have the sergeant walk you
over there.”

Jaytsy knew better than to argue that she
didn’t need a guard. Besides, it was rather dark and cold outside,
and she didn’t want Captain Thorne suddenly deciding she needed
warming up
.

Five minutes later she nodded goodbye to the
sergeant and knocked on the Briters’ kitchen door. A moment later
it opened and Mrs. Briter exclaimed, “Jaytsy! Oh, it’s been
weeks—come in!”

“
Thank you,” she said as
she stepped into the bright and warm kitchen. She sighed as the
tension of the evening melted away like the snow on her
boots.

Mr. Briter was already pulling out a chair
for her. “Miss Jaytsy, why are you out on such a night like this?
Won’t your parents be worried?”

“
My father knows I’m here,”
she told them as she unbuttoned her cloak. “I was at the fort for
Game Night, but I told him I had an idea about broccoli plants and
wanted to check it with you.”

Mrs. Briter placed a mug of hot broth before
her as she sat. “Interesting. And what’s your question, dear?”