The Falcon in the Barn (Book 4 Forest at the Edge series) (23 page)

At that point Karna went down the front steps
and stood in front of the family sitting on the second row. He
gently pulled up the emotional father and mother. They scooped up
their young children and the crowd began to applaud as they wiped
away tears.

Then one man who was sitting next to them
stood up. So did his wife. Then another woman. Within seconds the
entire crowd was on their feet, applauding the family who were
overcome with emotion.

Karna helped them to sit back down, crouched
in front of them, and said a few quiet words as the crowd began to
sit down as well. Mahrree watched the young couple’s faces. They
brightened as Karna spoke to them, then they laughed and wiped away
more tears. Karna gave their two children quick kisses.

As he stood, Mahrree caught his eye. She
grinned proudly and winked at him. He was no longer the hesitant
but obedient lieutenant Perrin had dragged through the forest as
they chased Guarders for the first time. Now Lieutenant Colonel
Karna was every whit as capable and confident a leader as Perrin.
Yet Brillen’s light brown complexion developed a slight shade of
bashful pink as he walked back up the podium stairs.

Wibble spoke for a little longer, but Mahrree
couldn’t remember what the flimsy voice said. He was sounding a
little like a campaign speech about the value of living in
Edge.

When it was clear that he was finally winding
down to introduce the next speaker, Mahrree instinctively looked at
the left side of the platform where Perrin had always appeared at
their debates. She saw him slowly walking up the stairs, partially
shielded by a curtain and reading a piece of parchment.

Mahrree held her breath and took him in,
remembering it was just over seventeen years ago when he first
bounded up those stairs, stopped, and stared at her with a look she
now knew meant, “Ah Hogal, that is
not
an old spinster
teacher.”

This morning, at age forty-five, his face was
more somber, he was a little thicker around the middle, certainly
grayer along the edges, with lines etched more deeply around those
dark eyes, and with many more medals, ribbons, and patches on his
dress uniform.

But the cobblers of Winds got it right,
Mahrree thought: he
was
magnificent, even now, after this
terrible year.

No,
especially
now.
Because
of
this year.

Choosing to continue to love him was the best
decision she had ever made. What better thing could she have done
with her life besides staying by his side? He
was
her
life.

He was almost to the top of the stairs now.
Mahrree bit her lip and wondered if all women adored their husbands
as much as she adored him. How would she feel about him in another
twenty years? Or thirty, or forty years, if they had them? She
remembered Tabbit and Hogal bickering good-naturedly around their
kitchen table with a great fondness in their eyes she didn’t
understand when she and Perrin were first married. She thought she
loved Perrin then, but it was nothing compared to what she felt
now. She smiled as she pictured Perrin and her as a wrinkled,
white-haired couple arguing about who
really
ate the last
piece of pie.

Then she heard a roar behind her.

He was no longer only hers. The crowd saw him
as he fully emerged from the curtains. The roar raced around the
entire amphitheater, completely encircling Perrin as he slowly made
his way to the center of the platform. Before the magistrate could
introduce him, his voice was drowned out by the audience cheering
and rising to their feet for the Saver of Edge.

Perrin now stood several paces behind Wibble,
still focused on the parchment, but seemingly taking up the entire
platform. Karna and Rector Yung stepped to the edges of the
platform as if his presence pushed them aside.

Next to Mahrree, Peto began to laugh at the
crowd’s enthusiastic reaction. “He can’t even kick a ball
straight!” he shouted to his mother, barely audible over the noise.
But he grinned as he stood as well. Jaytsy was on her feet too,
clapping loudly.

Mahrree could hardly see her husband anymore
as she stood up, because tears blurred her vision. To read the
letters was one thing; to see thousands of people on their feet
cheering and now shouting “General!” was overwhelming.

Perrin hadn’t raised his head but was still
staring at the parchment in his hand. Something rigid and worrying
seemed to have overtaken him.

“
Oh, no.” Mahrree murmured
and took a few quick steps to the edge of the raised platform. If
she was feeling overcome by the enthusiasm of the crowd, what might
he be feeling? Shem was right—it was too much, too soon. She wished
Perrin didn’t have his father’s sword strapped to his
side.

Brillen caught her eye. She shook her head
briefly at him and shrugged.

The crowd was relentless, growing louder
every moment, wanting to be acknowledged by Colonel Shin.

Brillen walked over to Perrin, put a hand on
his shoulder and said something in his ear. Perrin shook his head,
flashed his friend a brief smile, then finally looked out to the
crowd.

Mahrree didn’t think they could get any
louder, but they did, to deafening levels.

Perrin stared straight out, slowly scanning
the people now chanting “General Shin! General Shin!” in unison. He
pivoted gradually, his eyes traveling around the entire enclosure,
until he returned to his original position.

Mahrree’s worried gaze darted between Brillen
and her husband.

Brillen remained by Perrin’s side, gently
taking him by his sword arm as if worried he might draw the
blade.

But Perrin glanced at him again, nodded in
assurance, and took several steps to the front of the platform.

Karna remained behind him, his arms folded,
his eyebrows furrowed, his stance ready.

The chant of “General Shin” continued, now
accompanied by foot-stomping which trembled the ground.

Perrin looked down at his wife . . .

. . . and winked.

She blinked back, stunned. “Oh, you’ve got to
be kidding me!” she mouthed at him.

He could read her lips, she was sure. One of
his eyebrows went up subtly and looked out again at the crowd,
which, surprisingly, was even louder.

Mahrree shook her head. He always had a
natural flair for the dramatic, and now he was working the
crowd.

“
Oh, that man!” she
exclaimed, but no one could hear her chuckling.

Eventually Perrin held up a hand and the
chanting crowd fell silent. He turned slowly, pushing his hand
forward as he faced each section of the amphitheater, and everyone
obediently sat down.

Mahrree suppressed a giggle and took her seat
between her children. If the Administrators could see what power he
had over the citizenry they would’ve suspected an overthrow was in
the works.

The crowd watched Colonel Shin
expectantly.

He waited until there was no sound, then
waited three seconds more to make sure the thousands surrounding
him were breathless with anticipation before he finally held up the
parchment.

“
We are here to
remember
,” he emphasized, his deep voice booming out beyond
the amphitheater.
“
To remember the events that happened one
year ago today. I’m here to read the names of those who perished in
the land tremor here in Edge, and those whose relatives lived in
Moorland. Remembering the ones we lost is the greatest honor we can
give them.”

The raucous energy of the crowd was replaced
by hushed reverence as Perrin’s voice rang out loud and clear.

“
Salita Avety. Wills Avety.
Yenali Briter.” He slowly recited each name with great solemnity,
accompanied by sniffs and sobs scattered throughout the
audience.

By the time he read the 204
^th
and
last name, people were openly weeping and the heavy mood was
tangible. Noiselessly, Perrin began to roll up the parchment.

Until someone near the back shouted, “General
Relf and Mrs. Joriana Shin!”

The audience gasped as the words shattered
the silence.

Perrin stopped in mid-roll and looked up. His
jaw shifted and the crowd collectively held their breath. After a
frozen moment just long enough to become uncomfortable, he nodded
once and announced, “We thank you for sacrificing your morning to
be with us. You have all given up so much over the past year, and
we are stronger together because of it. May the Creator remember
all of you, as you remember Him. Thank you.”

He pivoted and headed to the back stairs of
the platform. The audience rose to their feet again, cheering and
applauding and calling, but the colonel, as if not hearing any of
it, trotted down the stairs and out of sight.

The magistrate, however, took to the middle
of the platform as if the applause were for him, while Karna and
Rector Yung waved and followed after Perrin. All alone, Wibble
beamed and headed down the front stairs looking for hands to shake
while the crowd began to file out.

But as soon as Perrin had turned to exit the
platform, Mahrree had set off in a quick jog to find him. He
reached their oak at the same time she did. The sound of the
audience followed him, and he sat on the bench by the spring
staring at the parchment in his hands.

Worried, Mahrree sat next to him.

Karna and Rector Yung paused at the bottom of
the stairs and anxiously watched Mahrree.

She gave them a hopeful smile and nodded that
they could go. But the two men looked at each other and only
stepped to the side to wait.

“
You did a wonderful job,”
Mahrree whispered in Perrin’s ear. “They love you. Can you hear
it?”

He scoffed. “They love the
idea
of me,
but they don’t really love
me
. But that’s all right. I can
live with it.”

“
So what’s wrong? Your eyes
are darkening again.”

“
My eyes are always
dark.”

“
You know what I mean,
Perrin.”

After a quiet moment he said, “Ah, Mahrree, I
never realized how much power there was in those words: General
Shin.” He reached over and put his hand on her knee. “If ever it
happens . . .” He paused and shook his head.

Mahrree waited, trying to read his enigmatic
expression. He never wanted the title of general, but he must have
entertained the thought while thousands of citizens practiced it on
him.

“
Perhaps,” he finally
whispered, “we best pray that day never comes.”

---

Zenos sat on one side of the large desk in
the command tower drafting a new training schedule.
His
way,
not the captain’s, and based on information Karna told him about
Guarders in Moorland.

It was also a good way to keep an eye on
Thorne, who sat across from him reviewing personnel files.

Thick tension hovered between them like an
angry vulture daring either of the men to actually look up and
acknowledge its presence. For the past week Shem had remained
annoyingly close to Thorne. They took their meals at the same time,
were scheduled in the office at the same hours, and whenever Thorne
spied him on the compound, Shem made it a point to sharpen his new
long knife. He realized it was best to carry a couple of them at
all times.

That morning of the Remembrance Ceremony a
strange sound carried up to the tower. Shem paused in his writing
and listened. He looked over at Thorne’s hand and saw that he, too,
had stopped writing to pay attention to the quiet roar coming from
the village.

Then the noise developed a rhythm.

Shem didn’t mean to, but he found himself
watching Thorne.

Thorne looked up at him at the same time, and
the tension froze into an icy chill.

But the sound that was growing in volume
demanded that the two men continue their indignant staring contest
another time.

Thorne stood abruptly and made his way to the
large window which sat on metal pins, allowing it to swing open.
Zenos leaped to reach the other side to open it first, but not
quickly enough.

Thorne unlatched the frame and swung it open
with a small triumphant smile. The echoing noise was now distinct
and carried all the way to the command tower. Thorne’s smile faded
as the cold morning air hit his face along with the sound.

The corner of Shem’s mouth tugged upward
slightly as he glared back at Thorne.

In the air floated the chant, “General Shin!
General Shin!”

---

When Peto got home, after the soldiers
escorted their family to keep his father from being mobbed by
admirers, he ran to his room to take off the confining black suit
which his grandmother had bought him last year. He was pleased to
see when he put it on that morning that it was getting tight and
short. Not only would he never have to wear it again, but he was
finally growing. He threw it on the floor, put on his regular shirt
and trousers, then, feeling a touch of guilt, gathered up his
grandmother’s suit and respectfully folded it. He opened the
wardrobe doors and placed the suit carefully on the shelf where it
had sat the past year.

Then he slid out the envelope that lay hidden
under it and pressed it to his chest. He checked to make sure his
bedroom door was still closed before he whispered to the air.

“
Grandfather, you should
have seen them! You should have heard them! If someone had a crown,
they would have made him king this morning. They were already
chanting General Shin!”

It was all coming together, in some sort of
way, and Peto was seeing the signs. As they had passed the
abandoned peach orchard he and Yung had worked last year, Peto was
stunned to see that the trees were so heavy with blossoms that the
air fairly stank of them. There’s was some kind of meaning
there—Yung would likely quiz him later—about nourishing the trees,
and his father grinning again, and the northern half of the world
chanting “General” at him.