The Falcon in the Barn (Book 4 Forest at the Edge series) (8 page)

“
Master sergeant?” Dr.
Stitch said, seeming so apprehensive that his pale eyes nearly
disappeared in the bushiness of his brow. “Do you have a few
minutes to talk?”

Shem exhaled and shut the door behind
him.

“
Bolt it, please, Master
Sergeant. I don’t wish us to be disturbed.”

The bolt caught a bit, and Shem realized it
likely had never been locked in all the years the fort had been
there. Still, he worked it just a bit longer than necessary, trying
to stall the inevitable.

“
What can I do for you,
sir?”

Dr. Stitch gestured to a chair near him.
“Perhaps I should be asking that of you: what can I do for you and
. . . the colonel?”

Shem offered his most charming smile as he
sat. “Whatever do you mean, sir?”

The older man waved that off. “You’re a
terrible actor, Zenos. You couldn’t tell a convincing lie if your
life depended upon it. The colonel is . . .” He paused to find the
right word, because when a man’s career is on the line, one had to
get it right. “Troubled?”

Shem nodded. “A fair assumption. And quite
understandable, you must admit. His parents were recently murdered,
you know.”

“
Zenos,” the surgeon said
quietly, “it’s been rumored that there’s something more going on.
Now, out of respect for the man and the years I’ve served here,
I’ve tried to ignore those rumors. But to be honest, it’s growing
out of hand.”

“
Rumors,” Shem said, a bit
coldly. “You’ve been here about ten years, right? Tell me,
Stitch—what have you learned about soldiers and rumors in those
years?”

A corner of the surgeon’s mouth lifted. “That
soldiers are bigger gossips than their grandmothers, truth be
told.”

“
They are. And rumors grow
to become ugly, terrible things, don’t they, Stitch?”

“
Zenos, tell me honestly.
He’s traumatized, isn’t he?”

Shem stiffened. “And what happens to
traumatized officers?”

Shifting a bit in his chair, Stitch began
with, “Well, the army does what we can for them. Some talking, you
see, and—”

“
You put them out to
pasture, surgeon!” Shem snapped. “As if they’re an old horse no one
can bear to see anymore. This happens, more frequently than anyone
cares to admit, and the faster they’re swept away, the easier they
are to forget. And then what happens?”

The surgeon’s mouth worked up and down,
unsure of which words to let come out of it.

“
I know what happens, sir.
They die,” Shem said bluntly. “Check your volumes of diseases over
there,” he gestured to the books on a shelf. “There’s no entry for
‘Trauma,’ is there? It’s the ignored ailment, because the army
hates to think that they broke someone who they used, and have to
throw him away. Well, that’s not going to happen here. No label of
‘trauma’ will be placed upon Perrin Shin, because he’s only losing
a bit of sleep, correct? Which causes him to be a bit testy, right?
And maybe results in his taking naps during the day, isn’t that so?
All of which is normal behavior for a
slightly
depressed
man who is
grieving
, wouldn’t you
agree?”

Stitch didn’t know what else to say but, “Of
course, Zenos.”

Shem grinned without feeling any joy. He
clapped his hands on his knees and stood up. “I’m glad we had this
little chat, Dr. Stitch. After all, an army that believes Beneff is
still a capable soldier certainly can’t find any reason to put
Perrin Shin out of it, right?”

The surgeon pointlessly moved around files on
his desk. “No, absolutely not. Nor did I want to
put the colonel
out to pasture
, I assure you. I have a job to do, you see, and
Captain Thorne—”

“
What’d he say?” barked
Zenos.

Stitch’s head snapped up, startled at Shem’s
venom. “He’s said nothing, Zenos. All I was
going
to say
was, ‘Captain Thorne seems capable enough of carrying some extra
duties, along with you and the new lieutenants, so I don’t need to
make any kind of report at all to the garrison, do I now?’”

“
Sorry, sir. I should have
realized that . . . what I mean is—”

Stitch held up his hand to stop Shem’s
apology. “Understood. It’s just that I received this,” and he held
up a message. “From Administrator Brisack, asking about our
colonel’s health.”

Shem pursed his lips as he read the message.
Doctor Brisack knew. Mahrree had asked for the sedation, and
Brisack could readily put two and three together, the prying old
man.

He handed the message back to the surgeon.
“Naturally Brisack is worried about the colonel. He helped treat
him when we arrived in Idumea, and the colonel was feeling a bit
unwell. This is merely a follow-up, and I don’t see that you need
to waste anymore ink than to write, ‘Colonel Shin is doing as
expected, and the fort is well under control.’”

Stitch smiled slyly. “I believe that’s
exactly what I was going to write. Since the colonel hasn’t come to
me for anything, he obviously isn’t in need of any treatment . . .
yes, the fort and our colonel are
just fine
. Thank you,
Zenos. That will be all.”

---

“
Ah,
Lieutenant
Offra
.”

Something in Captain Thorne’s voice reminded
Offra of a teacher he had when he was thirteen: a wiry man who
would have enjoyed teaching much more if he didn’t have to deal
with actual children, and made sure all of his students knew what a
bother they were to him. But there he was, stuck with all of them,
so let’s just get this over with, shall we?

“
You’re just who I needed
to see.”

Offra was used to keeping his responses
internalized, as he’d learned at his last posting where everything
he suggested was summarily dismissed. He looked up from the large
forward command desk. “Yes, Captain?” He tried to make sure his
disdain for the ‘superior’ officer, three years younger than him,
wasn’t obvious.

Thorne picked up a form from the desk. “I see
we’re still having a little trouble with the new system I
implemented.”

Offra choked back his initial response, and
instead came up with, “Master Sergeant Zenos is in charge of
scheduling, and I see no reason to change his system.
Sir
,”
he added carefully.

“
But what I’ve created is
far more efficient,” said Thorne. “Since Zenos told me I’m to use
my training to improve the fort, increasing efficiency is exactly
the kind of progressive measures my
father
and
grandfather
wish to see.”

Offra was feeling exceptionally brave that
morning. “Exactly how is it effective for 200 men to stand in front
of the small schedule trying to decipher the confusing charts
you’ve created to detail their shifts for the next four weeks,
sir
? With Zeno’s plan, a quick glance tells them all they
need to know!”

Thorne’s glare turned condescending. “You
see, Offra, that’s why I’m the captain, and you’re not. After
they’ve learned my system, they’ll need to see the charts only
every
four
weeks.”

Offra clenched his fist under the desk. “But
it’s not necessary.”

Thorne tilted his head. “I doubt you would
really know what’s necessary and what isn’t, Offra. I read your
former commander’s review of you. He called you a merely ‘adequate
officer.’”

Offra’s clenched fist lost some of its
ferocity.

Thorne sniffed. “Even an ‘insubordinate’
officer is more interesting. This is probably why you were sent to
the smallest fort as far away as possible where you couldn’t do any
real damage.”

Only about six hours later did Offra realize
that an excellent comeback would have been, “And that’s why they
sent you here as well?” But Thorne’s words had stung him into
silence. He didn’t realize his former commander would actually
attach his disregard to Offra’s permanent file.

Thorne took Offra’s non-response as
submission. “A short initial adjustment period is all that’s needed
for the men, and then they’ll have a far more progressive
procedure.” The captain leaned toward him. “If you want, we can
always ask the colonel for his opinion.”

Offra swallowed.

The command office door swung open, and
Colonel Shin strode into the forward office looking around
aimlessly.

The two young officers froze in their
positions, bracing for whatever might come next.

“
Dumbest thing ever,” Shin
mumbled as he picked up a few papers from the desk and dropped them
again. “Three copies of everything. Who else wants them but Cush?
Just looking for reasons to keep himself in
that
chair,
behind
that
desk . . .”

Thorne and Offra watched him, but he didn’t
acknowledge their presence. Shin sidled over to a large bookshelf
and pulled out a few blank pages, murmuring.

“
Not as if anyone will do
anything with the copies. Just shove them in a crate, shove that
crate in a room, then forget all about them. I’ve got a better
system: one form, small page, two boxes. First box says, ‘No
problems.’ Second box says, ‘Problems—send help.’ Check off the
first box? Don’t even bother sending it.
That’s
progressive.
Waste of trees. No one gets it. We need to
keep
the trees.
But we cut down that forest to make more paper so I can write
reports in triplicate to send to Idumea that no one will ever read.
Ever look at your patches?”

The young officers, not sure if he was really
addressing them, obligingly regarded the various patches on their
uniforms.

Shin continued to ramble, not glancing at
either of them. “The one issued by Idumea, with a pine tree and a
sword on top of it? What’s that supposed to mean, anyway? That we
defend the trees? Chop them down with our swords? No! We’re
supposed to be
in
those trees, holding those swords,
fighting alongside
with
the trees. But no one would ever see
it that way . . .”

He was now sitting back at his desk in his
office and writing on the pages he retrieved, rambling
incoherently.

Smugly, Thorne turned to Offra. “Door’s
open,” he whispered. “Go ahead. Ask him his opinion about the
scheduling charts.”

Offra had yet to have a completely rational
discussion with the colonel. Shin always looked past Offra as if he
were a patch of fog, and probably didn’t even know the difference
between him and Radan. And Thorne knew that, too.

“
Take it up with the master
sergeant,” Offra whispered back. “This is Zenos’s duty. He’s been
at it for a dozen years now, and also believes that he has a good
system. Consider his years of service, his experience—”

“
Zenos?
Zenos
,”
Thorne scoffed. “Don’t think too much of Zenos. I’m second in
command here, Offra. Don’t forget that.”

Thorne stood up, straightened his jacket, and
marched confidently into the command office. He knocked lightly on
the door, five times, to get the colonel’s attention. “Sir?”

Offra leaned to the side to watch the
colonel’s response.

Shin grunted as he copied the report he had
already written. “Problem?” he said absently.

“
Sir, I would check the box
that said, ‘No problems.’”

Shin looked up at him, perplexed.

“
I was just referring to
the idea you had . . . two boxes? One form? Rather clever,
sir.”

Shin’s confused expression shifted into a
glare.

Offra smirked. Maybe Colonel Shin didn’t see
him, but he definitely saw Thorne, and he didn’t like what he saw.
There was still justice in the world.

Thorne cleared his throat, unperturbed. “Sir,
the measures to improve the efficiency of the fort are continuing
at a commendable pace. I have no doubt the High General is most
pleased with our, and
your
, efforts here.”

“
And?” Shin barked
impatiently.

Offra dared to grin. But only for a moment,
in case someone happened to see him for once.

“
I was just wondering if
there was anything else you wanted evaluated, sir,” Thorne said,
his voice losing just a little bit of its overconfident quality.
“Granted, the changes we’re experimenting with now are quite minor
and inconsequential . . . really not even requiring your time to
glance at them. Perhaps as second in command here I should just
look at them for you, allow you to continue taking care of the
pressing needs of the fort, while the more mundane items fall to
someone like me—”

Offra rolled his eyes. At this rate, Thorne
could minimize the entire fort’s defection to the Guarders.

“
Is there a point to this
endless conversation, Captain?”

Offra rubbed his hands together. Someday,
Shin might be worth getting to know.

Thorne faltered under the black stare of the
colonel. “Uh, sir, just that . . . if you need anything evaluated,
I can do it, sir.”

“
Then do it!”

Thorne nodded once and turned to leave the
office, neglecting to close the colonel’s door behind him.

Lieutenant Offra stared down at the desk to
hide his snigger as Thorne picked up the duty schedules.

“
There,” Thorne said as if
he had just single-handedly won the Great War, seemingly oblivious
that the commander seemed ready to take him out himself. “I told
you.
I’ll
take care of these duty schedules. If Zenos has a
problem, he can see me about it.” Thorne trotted purposefully down
the stairs.

Offra didn’t exhale until Thorne was at the
bottom of the stairs. He glanced over again at the colonel writing
furiously at his desk, ink flicking from his quill and speckling
the papers on the desk. The man’s quill was as deadly as his
sword.