The Forest at the Edge of the World (12 page)

“Miss Mahrree?”

She looked around and, judging by the concerned looks on her students’ faces, realized that she had been lost in her own thoughts for probably a bit too long. A common occurrence for her.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Teeria just asked you,” Hitty said with a smirk, “Isn’t that the job of the government—to tell us what is the truth?”

This was her test, as a teacher. Yes, there were many influences in the lives of these girls, but none so powerful as the one standing in front of them in that classroom. Even an administrator would stru
ggle to have a greater effect on the girls than Mahrree would have right now. They looked at her for her opinion and most importantly, her approval.

And she had to treat such moments so carefully. It would be a
rrogant to believe that every day the girls hung on her every word, but at moments like this, when the debate had steered itself into a question that could someday affect the future of each student, Mahrree knew that in a very real way, she controlled the world.

At least, she controlled the way her students would see it.

She knew the answer the Administrators would want her to give. Of course the government exists to give you the truth! And the sky is blue. Always! Trust us!

She also knew the answer the Creator would want her to give, and it was His approval she was more concerned about.

Mahrree slowly smiled before she began to recite, “‘Test all things, as we are tested. Try all things, to discover the truths for yourself.’”

She could feel the tension in the room drain away as she conti
nued to recite the words of The Writings. “‘The truth of all things will manifest themselves to those who sincerely want to know.’”

Her students smiled and visibly relaxed. They could always count on her to quote The Writings.

“Miss Mahrree,” Hitty began soberly, tossing her braid with much less energy, “I was just wondering—we know what the kings have done, but have the Administrators executed anyone?”

A new wave of anxiousness filled the room.

“In the past two years, not that I’ve heard of, Hitty,” Mahrree said with a reassuring smile. “Let’s pray it always stays that way.”

“The captain would never execute anyone,” Sareen giggled nervously. “Would he, Miss Mahrree? I heard he claimed he was never part of a killing squad.”

“But he would kill a Guarder, right?” Teeria said gravely.

Mahrree shrugged again. “You’d have to ask him. But I don’t know why else he’s here.”

The girls covered their mouths and snickered at the idea of speaking to the captain. Mahrree groaned at their sudden return to silliness.

“Why don’t you ask him, Miss Mahrree?” another girl sugges
ted. “At the next debate!”

A lump appeared in her throat. She hadn’t mentioned anything about another debate, but apparently they already knew.

“If it comes up, I’ll try to remember to ask. Back to the Guarders.” She cleared her throat, grateful for diversion from the captain. “For years the villages on the outer rim of the world dealt with raids for goods, livestock, and occasionally people. Sands and Grasses in the west, and Trades in the southwest seemed to take the brunt of the attacks. Only occasionally would Guarders venture into Moorland or Edge. Our villages are much smaller and aren’t as wealthy. The Army of Idumea fought those raids and killed many of the Guarders, but never eradicated all of them. The Guarders always raided at night, wore black clothing, and smeared soot or oil on their faces to keep themselves concealed. The last time any Guarders raided here was maybe thirty years ago, although there have been rumors that someone was seen lurking in the forest. It seemed that every time a new king came to power, the Guarders came to test his power. Once pushed back, the Guarders retreated back to the forests. That’s why the forests are off-limits. Only fools would dare venture into them. If the poisonous gasses, bottomless crevices, and hot water doesn’t kill the stupidly curious, Guarders will.”

“So why are the Guarders coming back now, Miss Mahrree?” Hitty asked again.

Mahrree sighed. “I can only guess they’re testing the strength of the world. Remember, the Guarders now are descendants of the original 2,000 that left. All they know is that a king forced their ancestors away. I assume they came to take revenge each time one of the king’s sons or descendants took the throne. They may not even know the last descendent was deposed two years ago. How they know anything about us, I couldn’t begin to guess.”

One quiet girl with doe-like eyes, and a nervous demeanor to accompany it, timidly raised her hand. “Miss Mahrree?” she squeaked, “I think they’re already back. My good stockings went missing from the line three days ago.”

This was what Mahrree was hoping to avoid, the “Guarder Snatched!” rumors. Oh, they flew on and off for years, whenever anything was pinched or lost—Guarders stole it! Yes, Guarders were now desperate for
stockings.
Children seemed to rely on that excus
e
,
especially when a goat wandered away or the winds from the canyons were particularly strong and blew around items that were supposed to be secured into houses, sheds, or cellars.

Just as the winds were three days ago.

But adults were just as gullible. And manipulative. Anything questionable was attributed to Guarders. They were convenient to explain why a philandering husband came home late at night: “Thought I saw a Guarder! Had to investigate! I tracked him until he rushed off into the forest . . .”

Or why livestock vanished during the night, then mysteriously showed up later in someone else’s barn. “Why, the Guarder must have had second thoughts about that cow, tried to return it, and mi
stakenly brought it to my place instead. Really, I can’t imagine any other reason why she’s here. Why
of course
you can have her back . . .”

Adults even thought leaving a candle lit in the window might frighten away potential thieves. If it looked as if someone was still awake, the Guarders wouldn’t think of raiding the house now, would they? Mahrree thought it was all just a waste of tallow, especially since accidental late night fires caused more damage than the Guar
ders ever did.

But stories were powerful, and the less credible they were, the stronger they seemed to grow. Mahrree was always perplexed as to why people were more intrigued by gossip than truth. And the r
umors gave the Guarders more influence than they likely realized. If they knew the control they already possessed—even with being absent from Edge for decades—they probably wouldn’t have stayed away so long. As far as Edgers were concerned, they were already here and causing havoc.

But Mahrree still hoped she might be able to keep the next ge
neration from believing such ridiculous tales. Right now each girl was rapidly turning pale in fear that Guarders suddenly developed a desire for teenage girls’ underthings.

“
Gia, just how windy was it the night your stockings disappeared?”

The poor girl gulped. “Very?”

“And have you checked your neighbors’ yard for your stockings?”

“No?”

“You might want to.”

“But my older sister’s uh . . .
unmentionables
are also missing!”

Mahrree sighed. “Is she still courting that boy next door to you? What was his name?” Mahrree rarely knew who the teenage boys were, since they were taught in another school, but occasionally their names were lovingly scrawled on the margins of her students’ work.

Gia squirmed as a couple of girls tittered. “Um, yes?”

“Please don’t answer everything with a question! Now,
Gia—I may not know a lot about young men, but I do suspect that
unmentionables
flying in the breeze next door just might be a temptation for a hot-blooded boyfriend. And personally, I think he’s a much bigger worry to your family than Guarders.”

Gia
turned purple as the other girls giggled.

One rumor put down.

At least temporarily.

“But where could the Guarders live?” Teeria pored over her notes on the slate, baffled. “How many are there?”

“Again, no one knows. If we did, we could end all of this once and for all. When I was a girl we thought the Guarders retreated to the mountains and lived up in the higher valleys. But it seems they may have never left the forests. And now, they’re interested in our villages.”

Several of the girls shuddered.

“How many soldiers are coming to Edge?” Sareen giggled worriedly.

“You’ll have to ask the captain that, Sareen.”

“Hope it’s a lot,” she muttered with unexpected heaviness. All of the girls nodded in sober agreement.

“And I hope they’re as handsome
as the captain,” murmured another girl.

Mahrree closed her eyes as the girls tittered again.

Teeria raised her hand. “Miss Mahrree? Just one more question.” She looked over her slate, examining her tight writing that filled to every corner of it. “Now, where was it . . .”

Mahrree smiled. Today had been a success, full of questions and many not easily answered—

“—because you know my mother . . . always ready to question me on everything . . . now I thought it was right about . . .”

Ideally the girls would take those hard questions home and di
scuss them during dinner with their parents. That, Mahrree thought in satisfaction, would be the perfect way to end this day. Just one more hard question to mull over together—

“Ah, here it is.” Teeria looked up studiously. “What my mother
really
wanted me to ask: exactly what color were the captain’s eyes? Black or dark brown? She was sitting too far away to see.”

---

That afternoon as Mahrree visited the market, she fretted. But not about serious issues such as Guarders, or possible changes in education, or why she was suddenly distrustful of the Administrators. Oh no, she was far too silly to think about important things.

Everything had been going just fine until Teeria asked the que
stion about the captain’s eyes. Then Mahrree felt the same flustering heat as last night on the platform, and spluttered for a few seconds before blurting out, “Brown. Very deep, dark chestnut brown.”

She didn’t need eight teenage girls squealing and bursting into laughter to know she’d turned red. She hoped that her students were the only ones to notice that the captain had an effect on her. Well, the Densals knew it, too. And so did her mother. But maybe that was all.

As she worked her way through the market, she realized it was maybe a few more people than that. More villagers than usual waved at her, and several mentioned they’d be closing up their shops early on the night of her next debate. She was sure she blushed redder every time someone mentioned it. Fortunately Rector Densal would be bringing her the topic that night so she could prepare.

The first thing she’d prepare was keeping her face from turning red.

-
--

Tuma Hifadhi ambled out of the small back office and into the room where twelve men sat waiting for him around a large, simple table. He smiled at them, his white teeth gleaming against the backdrop of his gray skin and hair. Years ago he was taller and darker, but age had stooped and faded him. But it hadn’t dimmed him; his bright grin lit up and wrinkled his entire face.

“So sorry to keep you waiting,” he said to the men who were starting to rise from their chairs. He motioned for them to sit back down. “But I just received a most intriguing message. As you know, Edge has a new fort, and now a new captain to go along with it. And he spends his days just staring into the trees. My friends—” he wai
ted for their eager exclaims to die down, “—I believe it’s finally time.”

“Do we start training now?” asked one middle-aged man.

Tuma shook his head. “Not yet. There’s more he has to do before we can be sure. For now, we just watch. As always.”

Chapter 6 ~ “Miss Peto, it’s obvious you have very little experience with men.”

M
ahrree had worked herself into a near frenzy of fretting by the evening of the second debate. She fretted she might run into him, although she never went as far as the new fort built a quarter mile away from her home. It was to the northeast, and the school and markets were to the south, so she couldn’t think of a good reason to wander up to the fort, even if she was interested.

She fretted that he might have walked by her house again and she didn’t notice.

And she fretted that she was fretting about nothing.

It was all so ridiculous, and so she fretted about her being ridi
culous all the way up until the start of their second debate.

As she walked to the amphitheater she kept checking the color of the sky, just to have something else to think about. It had hints of purple by the time the debate began.

Half an hour later she didn’t have to worry about blushing in his presence again, because the second debate was nothing like the first.

Hogal Densal had decided they should discuss some of the new educational ‘suggestions’ being tried in Idumea. One of the more controversial was holding school all day, instead of just in the mor
nings for younger children and in the afternoon for older children. Mahrree argued that removing the parents from their daily work and discussion time with their children could weaken their family connections.

But the captain retorted that having such a break from the chi
ldren could be beneficial to the mental and financial welfare of the parents. Even with families limited to just two children—a law enforced more diligently in the past few decades—parenting was still a great strain. With the children in school all day, both parents could spend more time laboring.

The tension mounted when Mahrree insisted that the Creator had intended for the parents to educate the children, and the captain contended that there was nothing wrong with letting the Administr
ators be in charge. That’s when it erupted into a shouting match.

“The Writings, which you
love to quote
,” he simpered, “say everyone has the right to choose for themselves, Miss Peto!”

“But The Writings also say we’re accountable for those choices, Captain! What about innocent children who suffer at the ineptness of their parents’ choices? That’s what we suffered under the kings. Querul the Second and Third held us petrified that someone would say the wrong thing. The Fourth made us all suffer rising foods costs because of his chicken incompetence. Oren was like a neglectful parent who cared for nothing but himself. We suffered under his selfishness, so what evidence do we have our children won’t suffer the same way, if we become just as selfish as Oren?”

“Are you
implying
that following the Administrators’ suggestions will make us all as useless as King Oren?” he demanded.

She knew her argument was akin to running towards a crevice near the edge of the forest, but she just couldn’t stop herself. “Any parent who thinks of his comfort first will have children that suffer. I don’t believe the Administrators intentionally
want
parents to neglect their children, but someone should warn them of the possibility. Perhaps some professor at the university—”

“All of the administrators are former university professors, Miss Peto,” the captain said smugly. “And none of them have come to the same conclusions as you. I wonder why that is. Might they know something more than a simple school teacher at the Edge of the world?”

The entire audience—more than one thousand strong that night—sounded a warning of, “Ooooh!”

The captain’s fierce glare wavered for half a moment as Mahrree puffed up her chest in fury. She would not be demeaned, ever. She would
be bold
.

Just . . . not mention that fact.

“It has been my experience, Captain Shin,” she seethed calmly, “that a collective of men frequently put forth their untested opinions as fact, especially when their egos are in question. Be that collective an army, a government, or a band of boys arguing about who got to the swimming hole first. The results are inevitably an embarrassing display of clenched fists, shouted words, and bloodied noses. And still nothing is resolved to anyone’s satisfaction, thus leaving open yet another opportunity for a
collective of men
to put forth more useless ideas masquerading as something constructive!”

His eyes were like rock as she spewed her venom, but he didn’t flinch. “Miss Peto, it’s obvious you have very little experience with men.”

Many male villagers were bold enough to chuckle in agreement.

Until Mahrree shot them a look.

“I have enough experience with arrogant, ignorant men who value no one’s opinions but their own,” she boiled. “I’ve been gaining a great deal of experience in the past few days,
standing on this platform!
”

Several women in the amphitheater giggled nervously, and a few more brave men chorused another round of, “
Ooooh!”

Captain Shin remained emotionless, refusing to take her insult. “Miss Peto, you know nothing of the administrators who are e
ndeavoring to lead this world to greater heights—”

“I agree, I don’t,” she cut him off. “I don’t even know if they hold to The Writings, because I’ve never heard any of it quoted in the weekly edicts they send to the villages.”

The captain shrugged. “So what if they don’t? Can’t they make decisions on their own without referring to an old text from an older time?”

“An old text?!” she wailed. “Older time?! It’s for
our
time! It’s the basis for our village, our families, our lives! If we throw out the guiding principles, what will guide us then?”

“Isn’t that where faith comes in, Miss Peto?” he pounced. “The Writings talk all about faith. So have some faith in the Administr
ators.”

“Faith means having trust in someone else’s decisions for us,” she declared. “I have faith in the Creator, because I’ve seen how His choices have benefitted my life.”

“You’ve benefitted from the Administrators’ control over food production,” the captain pointed out. “I’ve seen the markets; there’s no lack. I know people here complained as much as anywhere when the management laws were installed, but a year later we see the results.”

“But farmers and ranchers no longer have a say in what they grow or how much they produce!” she gestured wildly. “They
might
be doing better without the meddling, but we’ll never know now. They’ve lost their freedom!”

He folded his arms. “If losing freedom means a healthier world, then what of it?”

She spluttered and guffawed before she could make her mouth form words. “That’s precisely what happened under the kings! We lost freedom, and lives, and even your precious progress.”

The captain took an aggressive step towards her. “No one has lost their lives under the Administrators, Miss Peto.”

“Not yet!” she proclaimed.

There it was: the first shocked look on his face, but Mahrree was far too furious to gloat.

“How can I have faith in someone if I can’t trust their decisions, Captain? For that matter, how can I trust any of your choices? What kind of influence will you have in Edge?”

He scoffed. “Who’s to say that the Administrators aren’t
making the best choices? Or that I won’t? You just admitted yourself you don’t know anything about them, and you certainly don’t know anything about me. I find that admission remarkable, by the way, since you seem to think
you know it all!
” 

“I know enough!” she shouted back. “I know the army put a fort in our village without our consent. You forced that on us! I know taxes rose last year again, but for what reason? To arm your new fort here that
no one asked for?
We’re just supposed to trust your decisions? The Army of Idumea’s? Even the Administrators, who we don’t know? To what end? Complete, blind obedience? Willingly accept that the sky is blue, and never question what it might portend when it’s red in the morning, or clouding in the afternoon? Should we never think for ourselves? Just become dumb cowardly animals?!”

He leaned towards her, his left hand clenched into a fist. “Your emotions are clouding your logic, and you’re imagining scenarios that may not lead to each other. You’re too closed-minded to think clearly.”

She firmed her stance. “I’m suggesting only one of many outcomes, but we never know what will happen when we blindly submit to untested leadership, Captain! When Querul the First took the throne, no one then would have suspected that generations later would have suffered from excessive control or be guided by idiots. I’m beginning to believe men simply can’t handle so much power.”

Captain Shin’s mouth dropped open at her boldness. That was twice now. “Are you insinuating that the Administrators are no more trustworthy than the kings?! I must warn you, Miss Peto, you are on very dangerous ground.”

She knew it, but she stood firm even though she teetered on the edge. “What have they done to earn my trust? Kick out King Oren? What happened to him?”

“Died of a broken heart, from finally realizing how he neglected the world!” the captain retorted.

“So we’ve been told. But I’ve always wondered, just how many soldiers did it take to break that small, stupid heart, Captain?”

The captain’s lips parted slightly, aghast at her presumption. Or maybe her insight. That was the third time.

She didn’t care, but continued boldly on. “Then the Administrators took over the city, and then the world. And what’s next? For that matter, what have
you
done to earn my trust? Come to Edge with your arrogance to tell us we’re closed-minded? Oh, well done!” 

“Miss Peto,” he said coolly, “if the Administrators were an
ything like Querul the Third, you wouldn’t be allowed to say the things you’re saying tonight. You still have the freedom to express your mind, however emotional and illogical it may be, and no one is stopping you.”

“Yet,” she added coldly.

Why am I saying all of this?
she wondered frantically, finally realizing just how close she was to disaster. Where is this coming from?
As quickly as she could, she tried to backtrack from the crevice.

“Perhaps, Captain, we have nothing to fear from the Admini
strators, but I fear there may be a great deal to suspect about you.”

She immediately realized that didn’t sound like backtracking, but the words continued to pour unheeded from her mouth. “You have clearly demonstrated your arrogance and contempt for the ‘simple’ people of Edge. And you’re our defense against the Guar
ders? Ha! I now fear greatly for Edge.”

That’s when Rector Densal jabbed the sides of the two large men sitting next to him. They jumped up and started for the pla
tform.

The capt
ain’s face grew purple. “
You
fear for Edge—?!” he began as the men jogged the steps to the top of the platform. With big smiles, they stood between him and Mahrree.

It was like throwing water on fighting alley cats. They each stepped back but kept pacing and circling, waiting for an opening between the two large men standing there with fake grins plastered on their faces. The platform suddenly felt very crowded.

Mr. Metz, the personal assistant to Rector Densal and a large fellow, held up his hands and said in an excessively cheerful voice, “What wonderful words for us to consider! We thank Miss Peto and Captain Shin and invite everyone to stretch a moment before the musicians take to the stage.”

Captain Shin was obviously not finished with her, but Mahrree wanted nothing more to do with him. To so easily dismiss The Wri
tings showed his true nature, and it was ugly.

That had done it for her.

She didn’t care about his accusing her of being a know-it-all—she’d heard that a dozen times before. But The Writings? Maybe he’d read them once or twice, as he claimed at the first debate, but he obviously cared nothing for the words of the Creator or the guides, which explained his ready devotion to the Administrators.

No matter how pleasant he appeared, his soul was grossly di
sfigured.

She stormed down the back stairs to her favorite tree, gave it a swift kick that she immediately regretted, and marched, or rather limped, back and forth trying to regain her composure. She consi
dered soaking her throbbing foot it the warm spring, but couldn’t imagine sitting long enough to do so.

She’d wanted to like him. She was afraid that some part of her already did, but she needed solid reasons for feeling anything for him. But now there was nothing worth liking in him.

She was also alarmed by her growing antagonism towards the Administrators. Where had that come from?! Her father? Maybe his warning that the world was out to get her was his way of telling her a storm was approaching, but she didn’t realize
she’d
be the storm!