The Falcon in the Barn (Book 4 Forest at the Edge series) (61 page)

Shem gritted his teeth and stared hard at the
young father. Years ago they had suspected him as one of the first
to go raiding for the Guarders. While they caught Poe Hili with
embarrassing frequency, Shem could never catch up to his older
partner in crime, who now patted his mule to pull the overloaded
cart. His wife slipped her hand into his and sent a challenging
look to the sergeant major.

Shem clenched the reins in his hands. The
next generation of bandits had been born that night, tutored by
their parents.

“
We were at the
amphitheater, Zenos,” the
thieve-turned-milkman-turned-back-to-thief told him. “There’s
nothing you can do to us, and you know it too.”

Shem bit back his frustration as he watched
the young family slink away into the night. Years ago he’d drawn
conclusions that he now realized he needed to revisit. He’d
charitably thought, when they first started nabbing teenagers, that
the boys were simply bored and looking for an adventure. It wasn’t
as if they were
bad
, just
boys
. That’s why the
Guarders had so much success with them.

But maybe that wasn’t it at all. Shem knew,
better than most, that people had many different sides. Usually
only one or two are presented to the public, and friends assume
they see the truth. Yet in the corners of each soul resided facets
that most people kept under control; tendencies toward violence, or
abuse, or deceit, or selfishness, or lust—shoved down deep to keep
them from surfacing.

But now Shem considered that some people kept
those facets down only until the right situation presented itself.
Maybe people truly were more bad than good, waiting for the
opportune time to give in to their urges. And now, they were
teaching their children how to lead double lives as well.

Shem wheeled his horse around abruptly,
because he knew he was the worst example of them all.

---

Later that night a sullen Colonel Shin sat in
the forward office and stared out the wide windows. On top of the
desk was a stack of notes being added to every few minutes by
soldiers, such as Lieutenant Jon Offra, currently bounding up the
tower stairs.

“
What now, Offra?” Perrin
asked as patiently as he could.

“
Captain Thorne again,
sir,” said Offra apologetically. “He’s requesting once again that
you send more soldiers—”

“
And I’m saying once again,
no
. Has Zenos requested more?”

“
No sir,” Offra smiled.
“The commander in the field of battle has not seen a need for more
guards for the innocent. He claims that everything we can control
is under control.”

Perrin smirked back. “Then I second Zenos’s
judgment; tell Thorne that. Also tell him that he can inform Barnie
and Wibble and every other fool out there that we didn’t make this
problem, nor will we resolve it. And be careful, Lieutenant,”
Perrin added. “You’re the best training partner I’ve had and the
Strongest Soldier Race is just a few weeks away.”

“
And you’re ready for it,
sir!” Offra headed down the stairs, passing a sergeant who came up,
waving a note.

“
Colonel, another house.”
He handed the note to the corporal recording them at the other end
of the desk.

Perrin stood up for a better view of the
expanse of black, punctured by orange glows. “Over there, right?”
he gestured to a section in the southwest. “Where exactly is
it?”

“
On 12
^th
road,
number 562.”

Perrin growled. “One that we helped rebuild,
right?”

The sergeant growled back. “I made the doors
myself, sir.”

“
And what are those doors
doing right now, Sergeant?”

“
Burning, sir.”

Perrin rubbed his forehead. “Stupid. That
makes what now, Corporal?” Although he could count the fires, some
had already extinguished themselves.

The corporal looked down at his master list.
“Thirteen, sir. Thirteen houses on fire, seven barns burning, four
shops—wait, that’s six—”

“
Enough, enough. Thank
you.” He turned back to the sergeant. “They’re just letting it
burn?”

“
That’s what Zenos
suggested. It was abandoned anyway.”

Perrin nodded. “Good. Remind everyone to keep
their distance.”

“
Thank you, Colonel.
Appreciated, sir.” The sergeant saluted before heading back down
the stairs in a quick jog.

Perrin turned back to the window to count the
fires. Every tower, their own signal fires burning and the long
orange banners hoisted at the tops, were calling for help. The
soldiers manning them had been blowing their horns, the four-short
pattern requesting assistance, until Perrin sent word for them to
shove the horns in the corner for the night; some people were
trying to sleep.

He’d sent help, along with Sergeant Major
Zenos whom he thought would be more objective and compassionate.
Perrin didn’t believe there were more than a dozen innocents in
Edge tonight, and as raw and rough as his nerves were, he’d likely
start a few fires himself just by snapping his fingers.

Shem was a far calmer, wiser man to put in
charge. And the moment Captain Thorne declared it to be a battle
situation—likely hoping to earn yet another shiny medal from his
grandfather for leadership—Perrin knew that even the darkest
situations had golden linings: Thorne had inadvertently put Shem in
command over him.

That was the only thing that put a dim smile
on Perrin’s face that night while Edge kicked and screamed and
grabbed, trying to establish just who was the “closest friend or
neighbor.”

Mahrree had left a short time ago,
accompanied by four soldiers. She’d been listening to the reports
coming in and watching the turmoil from the windows. Her words
still echoed in his mind.

“
I’ve lived here my entire
life. But tonight, for the first time in forty-five years, I’m
ashamed to say I’m Edgy!” She was reading a note about two men who
fought over a horse. Both had pulled out their knives and clumsily
lunged at each other. A third neighbor, watching their attempts,
made off with the horse when the two men stumbled and plunged their
knives into various body parts.

While they were sloppy, they were also
effective. One had already died from a punctured lung, and his
former friend was bleeding so profusely from his neck that the
doctor didn’t think he would make it to morning.

“
Perrin, who
are
these people? None of them match the memories I have of
them.”

Perrin agreed. At first he was ashamed of
them, then embarrassed for the village he had claimed as his own.
But now he was furious. They were destroying houses they had helped
build together and stealing goods that none of them needed.

Shem had come up a while ago to bring a
report while Mahrree was there, and he told them that he watched
two older women fighting over the most hideous hat in the world.
The news he delivered after that, though, left Perrin nearly
speechless.

“
There’s a new problem,
Colonel. It seems that many Edgers realized that their neighbors
didn’t die, so they don’t have claim over anyone’s property.
Therefore they’ve taken up looting houses anyway. It’s mostly in
the south, but I’m sure within the hour someone in the north will
get the same bright idea.”

“
They’re . . . they’re . .
.”

“
Yep. Just taking what they
want from the houses of the living. Hey, they want it, they’re
entitled to it!”

That’s when Perrin insisted Mahrree go home,
with additional reinforcements. While Deckett may not have felt his
house was worth protecting, there were a few things in Perrin’s
that he didn’t want touched.

He now looked out the window in the direction
of their home, then at the Briter farm. There was a fire just one
road away, and he prayed silently again that none would come any
closer.

Several hours later, well past midnight, the
reports finally slowed then stopped. Perrin posted himself at the
compound’s gates to greet his soldiers as they trudged back in for
what remained of the night.

“
Good work, men. Thank you.
Well done. Get to bed now,” Perrin said as they plodded past him
and he patted a few on the back. “Shower first, if you want. You
all deserve to sleep in a bit in the morning, don’t you think?
Wake-up call will be postponed by one hour. Maybe even
two.”

That elicited a few exhausted cheers.

At the very end of the soldiers was Sergeant
Major Zenos who assured a sooty Captain Thorne that he would make
the final report to the colonel.

“
Absolutely, Captain,”
Perrin said with as much finality as he could generate.

But Thorne didn’t take the hint. “Sir,” he
said, “I could’ve contained a few of those situations. I must
protest that I was not given sufficient power to—”

“
No, Thorne,” Perrin
sighed. “No amount of power would have brought any of this to a
safe and lasting resolution. Indeed, a show of force on our part
would have increased the violence—”

“
I believe you’re wrong,
sir,” he said, with more gumption than he’d shown in several
moons.

But before he could explain why, Perrin
folded his arms. “Thorne, no one out there would have listened to a
word you said. They already made their minds up—”

“
But we could have made
wiser decisions! We could have been fairer—”

“
There was nothing fair
about
any
of this, Thorne!” Perrin exploded, too tired to
pretend that the inanity of the night hadn’t got to him. “I
presented a fair proposal, they rejected it—”

“
Well, it
was
a
majority rule, Colonel—” Thorne started with the sticky insinuation
that if the majority of villagers wanting something, it
automatically was right.

Perrin never fell for that bullying tactic.
“Mob rule, you mean.”

“
Well then if you didn’t
approve of it, you should have overturned it, sir!” Thorne threw
his hands in the air. “That’s the power you have as commander—total
control!”

“
It was an uncontrollable
situation, Captain!” Perrin gestured wildly back, regretting later
that he didn’t smack the captain accidentally. “When the majority
of people choose foolishly, then it’s best to take a step back so
as to not get dragged down with them.”

“
No! That’s not our job!”
Thorne insisted. “You and I have higher sensibilities, enlightened
minds, and we’re required to force the people to a better
resolution—”

It must have been Perrin’s slacked jaw and
astonished expression that caused Captain Thorne to stumble in his
speech.

Perrin put his hands on his waist.
“
Force
the people?
To a resolution
you
think acceptable, no doubt. Thorne, do
you have any idea what happens then?”

“
You truly get lasting
peace!”

“
You truly get lasting
rebellion, Captain!”

“
Respectfully, sir, I
disagree,” and Thorne marched off into the compound.

Next to Perrin, Shem let out a low whistle.
“I hope I’m long gone if he ever makes it to general,” he murmured
as they watched the captain elbow his way through enlisted men to
get to the showers.

“
I’m never sure which
captain’s going to show up each day,” Perrin murmured back. “The
adulator or the underminer. He must get dizzy with how often he
vacillates between the two.”

“
Did he actually claim that
he has higher sensibilities?”

“
Yes,” Perrin sighed in
worry. “And an enlightened mind. He said the same about me.
However,” and a corner of his mouth went up into the smallest of
smiles, “I noticed that he ignored you completely in that
assessment. Did you annoy him at all this evening?”

“
Me? Of course not. I was
my usual charming self,” Shem sniffed. “Even when I reminded him in
front of twenty enlisted men that I was the acting commander, I was
entirely pleasant.”

Perrin snorted, grateful it was dark enough
that the last soldiers in the compound couldn’t see his grin. “Come
on, Zenos. We have reports to finish.”

A few minutes later they slumped into chairs
in Perrin’s office, since “reports to finish” was code for, “Find a
better place to talk.”

“
What a senseless night,”
Shem said, putting up a boot casually on the command desk. “After
eight hours it appears the village has finally given up. Chief
Barnie’s worried about the morning, though, but I can’t imagine
there’s anything left unclaimed.” He shook his head. “Perrin, this
was one of the strangest nights I’ve ever experienced. I didn’t
even know who the enemy was most of the time.”

“
We are our own enemies,”
Perrin sighed back and started to straighten the stack of reports
on his desk. He gave up and dropped them in frustration. “Shem, I
feel like I don’t even
know
these people anymore. What
happened to them?”

Shem pondered that. “I’ve been asking myself
the same question. People I’ve seen laughing and working together
for years were shouting and threatening each other with pitchforks
and broomsticks over a bridle. But I’ve come to a conclusion. They
can endure Guarder attacks, land tremors, destruction, imminent
starvation, illness, and even the death of loved ones, but they
can’t handle prosperity. Perhaps, Perrin, wealth is the greatest
trial of them all.”