The Falcon in the Barn (Book 4 Forest at the Edge series) (71 page)

Mahrree nodded once to Chommy for saying
exactly what she was about to. Like it or not, he was better at
copying her than Lannard was who considered himself to be the class
comedian. It was all the slow-witted boy had going for him, and
Mahrree wasn’t about to yank that away from him, as unfunny as
Lannard was.

“
Seriously though, Mrs.
Shin. And I’m not trying to be difficult,” Chommy insisted as
Lannard dutifully tucked the matches into his shirt pocket where
he’d extract them again in a few minutes. “Well, not this time. But
why, oh
why
, must I know the year the Administrative
Chairman first came to power? I mean, it’s not like I’m going to be
invited to some party where I have to write on a message
‘Congratulations on being in power for nineteen—’”

“
It will be twenty-one,”
Mahrree corrected, pointing to the date on the board as a few boys
sniggered.

“—
twenty-one
years.’
I’m going to be a tanner. Why do I have to know this
stuff?”

Well, Mahrree considered, it
was
a
question. Not a very compelling one, but a question
nonetheless.

And she was going to run with it.

“
Tell me, Chommy, why do
you
think the Administrators want you to know
this?”

“
Because they’re stupid old
men trying to ruin my day!”

The boys laughed their agreement.

Mahrree knew she shouldn’t smile. She’d lose
all credibility if she did, but she couldn’t help it. Not only did
she smile, she found herself chuckling.

“
Ha!” another boy pointed
at her. “She agrees!”

Mahrree shook her head. “No I don’t. He just
said it so . . . all right.” She waited until their laughter began
to die down before she said over the last of it, “I’m going to tell
you something you may not know.”

They hushed. Since it didn’t sound as if it’d
be on the test, what she was about to tell them might actually be
worth listening to.

She paused for another three seconds because
she knew how to work a crowd as well as her husband. When they were
absolutely still with anticipation, she whispered, “I’ve
met
the Administrators! All of them.”

“
No!”

“
Seriously?”

“
And they’re a bunch of
stupid old men, aren’t they?”

Mahrree pointed at Chommy. “Careful, now,”
she said in a stern voice she used only rarely. Keeping a more
light-hearted tone in her class also kept the boys more often in
the classroom. For some, she suspected her class was the only place
where they had actual discussions with an adult. “You
do
remember who my husband is, right? Eyes and ears?”

“
Ankles, spleen, elbows . .
.
whatever
.” Chommy rolled his eyes again.

“
But Mrs. Shin, you really
met them? What was it like?” asked another boy.

She wasn’t about to ignore the rarely-seen
glimmer of curiosity in her students’ eyes. Forget memorizing dates
for the test.

“
Actually, it was
terrifying,” she admitted. “This was right after the land tremor
when we were in Idumea. I had to be presented to them in their
large Conference Room. There was a huge, highly polished table—”
she gestured the size and shape, “—where all of them sat around
with their stiff red coats and frilly white shirts, and Chairman
Mal sat at the head so he could stare directly at whoever came in.”
She folded her hands and furrowed her eyebrows in a sinister
manner.

Several boys snickered.

“
And you were scared
speechless, right?” asked Lannard with a mischievous grin. For once
he was paying attention.

“
Actually, no, Lannard. I
found a few things to say.”

“
Of course you would, Mrs.
Shin,” Chommy said. “And you told them to let us either learn
something useful, or let us leave.”

Oh, how she wished she could have said that!
If the boys didn’t care about a subject, spending hour after hour
on it didn’t suddenly change that, or force it into their minds.
Nothing
could be forced into a mind and compelled to stay
there.

But for some reason the Department believed
all students should learn the exact same way and at the exact same
time, demonstrating that none of them knew the first thing about
children.

For a few the education system worked fine,
Mahrree grudgingly had to concede, and delivered enough acceptable
results that the Administrators were satisfied. Someone at the
Department of Instruction was probably waiting for the rest of the
students to finally fall in step with the thirty percent who did
all right under the currently rigid system.

Otherwise students either sat listlessly or
fidgeted nonstop, just waiting until the long day was over. But
occasionally—rarely—a moment came around when a student brought up
a topic he actually cared about. And suddenly, Mahrree remembered
why she used to love teaching.

She eyed Chommy in appreciation, and he
fidgeted.

“
Uh-oh, Chommy,” Lannard
whispered loudly. “I sense a departure from lesson plan, and it’s
heading straight for you.”

Several boys chuckled.

“
You’re right,” Mahrree
said. “And no, this won’t be on the Administrators’ test. Tell me,
Chommy, honestly—why do you think the Administrators want you to
know these dates? No silly answers. Give me something
‘useful’.”

Chommy sat back in his chair, his
sixteen-year-old legs pushing beyond the confines of his desk to
stretch out into the aisle. No matter how far apart Mahrree set up
the desks, the boys always had their legs in the aisles within
kicking distance of each other. If she were down to one boy, he
would fill the entire room. “Because they think the dates are
important.”

“
Important to . . . ?” she
pressed.

“
Important to . . . to
them?”

“
If they are important to
them, why should some tanner-to-be in Edge worry about
them?”

“
That’s what I’ve been
asking!”

“
And now I want you to
answer it!” Mahrree said. “Come on, why?”

He wasn’t used to coming up with answers that
hadn’t already been supplied to him. “I don’t know why.”

“
Guess. Take a shot. Let
that arrow fly. See what you hit. Or miss. Just
try
!”

Chommy thought for a few silent,
tension-filled moments, and Mahrree begged internally that he
wouldn’t give up and say he didn’t know. He had to know
something
on his own, and he needed to discover that right
now. Mahrree frequently suspected many of the boys were far
brighter than they let on, but performed poorly because, like her,
they were happier hiding in her classroom where no one expected
much from them.

But she always expected something. She
couldn’t help not have hope for them.

“
Because . . . they want a
tanner in Edge to know,” he stumbled. “It’s important so that I
always remember who they are and how long they’ve been
there.”

He was on the cusp of something he’d never
approached before, and Mahrree could see in his eyes that he was
worried about being there.

So in her best encouraging, pleading manner
she said, “Why?”

He started to sigh in frustration, but then
stopped. With squinting eyes and a decidedly cynical tone he said,
“Because a tanner in Edge needs to know so that he . . . knows who
to obey? And why?”

Mahrree felt a smile creep around her mouth.
“And why should
you
know why you need to obey
them
?”

“
To remember, I
guess.”

“
Remember what?”

“
How bad it was under the
kings, how much better it is under the Administrators?”

Mahrree nodded. “Not bad, Chommy. That just
may be
one
of the right answers. And there are often many
correct answers.”

Chommy sat back, a tad pleased with himself.
“But is it, Mrs. Shin? I mean, is life
really
better?”

This was one of the things Mahrree loved
about teaching: the rare moments when a student dares to wonder.
The best learning happened when the students asked the questions,
not the teachers.

It was also at these moments that she
panicked, because sometimes the questions caught her by surprise.
But it was the good kind of panic that lets you remember you’re
alive, like being chased by a dog you know you can outrun, but it
terrifies you just the same. It feels great when you finally reach
home, or see the dog suddenly yanked back by its leash and you
gloat at it triumphantly.

But first you have to
run
.

She always had a ready answer. “Chommy, what
do
you
think?”

It was the best stalling question she’d ever
come up with. She could think while the student stumbled around for
an answer himself. Already she could see the little wheels in
Chommy’s mind spinning, trying to connect to find an answer.

A light came on in his eyes. “I don’t know
what
to think, Mrs. Shin, because they never tell us what
life was like before.”

Mahrree moaned inwardly. When did Chommy get
so insightful?

“
Hey,” said Lannard, “he’s
right! When at any time in this past year have we learned about
life under the kings? We hear how bad it was, but I want to know
just
how
bad. Details! Give me details!”

Mahrree suppressed a smile at his imitation
of her when she criticized their essays. Several other boys chimed
in their opinions. Mahrree let them go for a moment to let them get
it out of their systems. And also to buy herself a little more
time.

But even the laziest youth of Edge deserved
honest answers.

Mahrree held up her hands in surrender.
“You’re right, you’re right. We haven’t talked about that this
year. Do you know why?”

“
Because it’s not on the
test?” asked a boy on the front row.

She pointed to him. “Exactly! Still want to
know what life was like under the kings?”

“
Well, is should still
matter, shouldn’t it? What life was like? Wouldn’t we be even more
loyal if we knew?” he wondered.

Mahrree marveled. Why didn’t they show this
much passion when they discussed the life cycle of a worm?

“
Again, you’re right. It
does matter. In fact . . .” She put a finger on her
lips.

The boys moaned and pulled out their slates.
They knew what that look meant.

She smiled. “No writing, I promise. But . . .
exploring!”

“
Sorry, Mrs. Shin. I was
too young to go exploring on the expedition. I tried,” Lannard
said, shrugging in disappointment.

“
We all appreciate your
trying to leave us, Lannard. That would have meant no one’s
trousers’ legs would have mysteriously caught on fire anymore this
year,” she said with a slight glare.

He squirmed and guiltily patted his shirt
pocket where his matches waited for him.

“
No,” Mahrree continued,
“what I mean is, I want you to explore your parents’ or
grandparents’ past. The Administrator over Science has sent out a
delegation of thirty men to explore Terryp’s past, so we should
too. I want each of you to ask your parents what life was like
under the kings. Bring me your answers tomorrow for us to
discuss
, and I’ll not make you write it up as your next
week’s writing assignment.

“
But,” she paused to let
her students’ cheers die down, “if you don’t bring me proof that
you talked to your parents, you all
will
write about it. And
remember, I’m an old woman and I know very well what life was like
under the kings. I’ll know if you’re making things up!”

---

Perrin reined Clark to a stop just under the
shade of a large maple tree. The horse obediently halted, even a
moment before Perrin pulled on the reins as if reading his mind.
Perrin would have smiled at the stallion’s instincts, but his
concentration was too focused on the large group of travelers
moving at a painstaking pace. The forty horses, some pack mules,
and a three dozen men slowly made their way on the other side of
Moorland, purposely avoiding the dead village by a quarter mile.
Although Perrin was on the other side of the ruins next to the tree
line of the forest and out of sight, he could still make out the
expedition party by the huge cloud of dust they created, likely
from dragging their heels.

“
They should be halfway to
Scrub by now,” he told Clark. “If it were me on that expedition,
we’d already be passing Sands.” He smiled at the prospect. “What do
you think, Clark? Ready to go exploring in a year or two? Know of a
mellow mare we could set Mahrree on?”

He chuckled to himself, picturing her
balancing unsteadily on the back of a beast she was terrified of.
Her eyes would likely be as large as the poor horse’s.

“
Well, we’ve got some time
to find her the right animal, don’t we now?”

Clark snuffed in agreement.

“
Ever done a desert?” he
asked his mount. “No, of course you haven’t. No one has. Not even
the best and brightest cowards chosen for this expedition. They
probably would have talked Shem
out
of going with them. He’s
far too brave for them. Oh, Clark—they better draw the correct
conclusions,” he sighed wistfully. “They better see what they’re
supposed to see at the ruins. It’s all on that map. If I could see
it, surely they will too. If they don’t—”

He grumbled in anticipatory frustration. He
couldn’t bear to think of the expedition returning next year with
the news that the ruins were a dangerous place. He had far too many
plans already in mind, and he wasn’t about to let them be foiled by
some timid idiots.