The Forest at the Edge of the World (52 page)

No, wait.

Gray, or . . .

Moldy mud?

Well, while he still couldn’t figure out the
exact
color of her eyes—her eyes that were trying hard to be brave, but were unsuccessfully masking her horror—there was something he did know: she wasn’t nearly as brave as she pretended to be. Oh sure, she talked a supposedly dangerous talk on the platform, but no one ever took Edgers seriously. Idumea knew all intelligence was centered in the middle of the world, and it became diluted the further one travelled away. By Edge of the World, people were considered geniuses if they could put a hat on the correct body part.

And Mahrree knew that, too. She never would have been so brave on the platform in Pools, or even Mountseen. And it’s not as if she’d ever be bold enough to enter the forests. How can one be da
ngerous without courage? No, underneath it all she was timid and wary and that was exactly the way Perrin wanted her—

Most dangerous woman
.

Maybe it was because Hogal was still in the room that the i
mprobable words insisted on mashing themselves into his brain. He tried to shake them loose as he looked at her perfect lips pursed in worry. How could she possibly ever be dangerous? What in the world could that mean?

No. No, Hogal must have gotten it wrong.

Although Hogal never got things wrong.

Perrin decided not to think about it anymore. Besides, som
ething more immediately worrying was about to happen.

Mahrree took a deep breath and said analytically, “So, I suppose it could be worse.” But her tone suggested she’d never seen anything so terrible in her life as the roughly stitched gash. She placed some of the thick cloths around his wound. “Then, um, we’re to pile the snow on it, a few inches deep,” she said in an almost passable imit
ation of the surgeon, if her voice hadn’t been quavering. “The cold numbs the area while also controlling bleeding and swelling. We’ll do it again before you go to sleep tonight—”

She accidentally brushed one of the thick black-threaded stitc
hes, and he flinched.

“I’m so sorry!” she whispered, the last of her detached pretense vanishing.

“Mahrree, shall I—” Hogal started, but Mahrree shook her head.

“No. No, I can do this. Thank you, Hogal. My husband, my r
esponsibility. So,” she said trying to calm her voice, “do we put the snow on in layers, or just as one clump?”

“I’m not sure,” Perrin said, his eyes
squeezed shut in anticipation. “Perhaps just plop it all on at once, so you don’t have to look at it anymore. It will probably all feel the same to me.”

Hogal gently scooted Jaytsy to the far side of the bed, making sure her thumb stayed in her mouth so she’d remain asleep.

Mahrree nodded a thanks and plunged her hands into the bucket to pull out a mass of cold icy snow. “At least you got injured during the Raining Season, when we have all this snow.” She winced as she dropped it on the jagged injury.

Perrin writhed and arched his back.

“I’m so sorry!” Mahrree gasped.

“No, just cold!” Perrin gasped back. “Really, it’s good, it’s good.”

“If you say so,” she whimpered, putting another handful on his back and smoothing it to cover evenly.

He squirmed and shut his eyes tight, a strangling noise coming from his throat.

“What is it?” Mahrree whispered frantically.

“Leaking. Down my side.
Tickles
,” he breathed. “Wipe it up!”

Mahrree broke into a relieved grin and took an unused cloth to wipe the melted snow that the dam of cloths failed to retain.

“Thank you, my darling wife,” he whispered.

“Anything for you!”

Hogal patted Mahrree on the arm. “I think you’ve got things here. I’ll see if Hycymum needs a taster,” and he shuffled off to the kitchen.

Perrin’s shoulders relaxed as he grew used to the freezing sens
ation numbing his back. With Hogal gone, it was easier to push aside what his great uncle suspected about his family. For a moment he could even ignore the idea that it was the “most dangerous woman in the world” he trusted with his injury.

“How are you feeling?” he asked Mahrree.

“I’m all right,” she assured him, wiping up more melting snow that trickled down his ribs. “How are
you?
”

“It’s not as bad as it seems. I should be able to get up and walk around tomorrow. Help you a bit.”

“Don’t need to,” she said. “My mother and Tabbit cooked enough for us for days and Mother also did the washing, so we can rest here and enjoy watching Jaytsy destroy the house.”

He chuckled quietly. “You know, I was thinking that under di
fferent circumstances, this would be rather romantic. Our bed on the floor in front of the fireplace . . .” He turned slightly and raised his eyebrows suggestively at her.

She giggled. “Your back in
capacitating you, our daughter here, my mother and your great aunt and uncle in the kitchen . . .”

“So, you
do
want to argue?” he said in the low rumbling voice that he knew always drove her to distraction.

But sometimes, a woman simply won’t be distracted.

“How can you be thinking like
that
at a time like this?” She chuckled as she continued wiping.

“What else should I be thinking about?” he asked, trying to avoid the many thoughts clogging his mind.

“Your story.”

“What story?”

“The one you should be coming up with, to explain why you’re wounded, but your uniform is unscathed?” She raised her eyebrows at him, but she wasn’t suggesting the same thing he was a minute ago.

Perrin exhaled as he stared into the fire. “I was wondering when you might ask. Thought I might have more time, but . . . Mahrree, I
really
didn’t want to tell you this. I wanted to spare you the knowledge that, well, that your husband’s an idiot.”

Mahrree nodded soberly as she readjusted a cloth. “It’s all right. From our first debate I had my suspicions.”

He smiled. “Well, here it is. You realize that men are merely overgrown boys, right?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“And that sometimes men will dare each other to do stupid things, like boys dare each other?”

“Well, this is far
more interesting than I anticipated. Go on.”

“And the later at night, the more outlandish those dares b
ecome?”

“I’m not going to lie, Perrin—I’m praying we have another girl.”

“Well, Mahrree—” he decided not to tell her Hogal already knew it was a boy, “—it’s like this: in Command School there was this dare. The older classes would dare the younger classes to run across the campus in the middle of the night during the coldest part of Raining Season in only their . . . underpants. And sometimes even less than that.”

“Uh-huh,” Mahrree sa
id thoughtfully. “I see why women are not allowed in Command School. Here I always thought it was because they were considered
less intelligent
.”

“Well, Karna and I were getting bored last night, so we started reminiscing about life in Command School, and well . . . he went first since he’s younger. He stripped and ran to the feed barns and back. I told him that wasn’t impressive, so I went next. Stripped down to my underpants, mounted my horse, and rode to the forest.”

“Any mead involved?”

“Mahrree, you know I never drink mead.”

“So you were completely sober when you did this.” She shook her head. “Somehow that just makes it all worse.”

“My horse grew skittish and bucked, and the next thing I know I’m flying backwards in the air, right towards a dead tree. So if it seemed to you as if my officers were trying to cover up something, it’s because we’re
all
idiots. Neeks was going to go next—something about proving enlisted men’s worth—until he saw what happened. I understand his trousers were off.”

“Hmm. Indeed, you all are idiots,” she decided. “Tell me, does this dare involve anything else, like perhaps a
white scarf?
”

Perrin swallowed, having forgotten about that as his story had unraveled in his mind.

“Because, you see,” she continued casually as she put another pile of snow on his wound, “I was looking for mine earlier. I never wear it because I think white is impractical, but I thought it might be comfortable to wrap around your bandages. Yet I can’t find it anywhere. Almost,” she said slowly, “as if it were
Guarder snatched
.”

Perrin hesitated for only a moment before ignoring her last comment. “Yes, yes the dare does involve a bit more. I took the scarf last night expecting this might happen. The actual dare is, ‘Run
across the campus wearing only a piece of your girlfriend’s clothing.’”

“Rather wordy.”

“Rather drafty. At least I won last night, since I’m the only one with a ‘girlfriend.’ Lost the scarf, though. Sorry.” He didn’t add,
Because it likely was Guarder snatched.

“I guess I should be proud of you. And that’s the story you’re sticking with?”

He blinked in innocence.

She smiled sweetly.

“I just confessed to being an idiot! You really think there’s something more?”

She kissed his cheek. “Have I told you today that you are the most perfect man in the world, and that I love and adore you more than words can say?”

He smiled. “I love you, too.”

“I think that’s obvious. Now, not that I wasn’t thoroughly ente
rtained by your story—although I
really
didn’t need that image of Grandpy Neeks and his lack of trousers because now I can’t seem to shake it,” she shuddered dramatically as Perrin chuckled, “—I’m merely wondering, how long until you tell me the truth?”

He sighed. “As long as I can get away with it.”

“You have to report this injury to Idumea, you know. Too many soldiers know about it.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I’ll find a way to take care of that.”

“Perrin, just tell me—what happened?” she whispered back. “While it’s jagged, this slice is too clean to be caused by a tree branch. I can tell that much. It looks more like a knife wound. Or . . . a dagger.”

He twisted his arm to pat her belly. “At least another three moons until you can birth this one safely, right?”

“So the midwives are guessing.”

“I’ll tell you in thirteen weeks, then.”

-
--

Two men sat in the dark office of an unlit building.

They stared at each other in the growing shadows, silently da
ring the other to claim the upper hand.

Brisack broke first. “Any news from the observers in the forest above Edge?”

It was a good opening line. Didn’t claim victory or admit defeat, just asked for information.

“No news,” Mal said plainly.

Another good line. No concessions or challenges. Just ending his opponent’s questioning.

“Wonder why that is,” Brisack pressed, putting the burden of response on the other party.

“Cold weather,” Mal said shortly.

Accurate. But also irrelevant.

“Too cold to move messages, then,” Brisack nodded once. “But not too cold for the fort at Edge.”

The staring match heated.

Both men knew what news came from Edge. High General Shin had been quite vocal about what he called a deliberate attack on his son. Within minutes of the news reaching the High General, messages flew out to every fort to watch for snowy attacks, since Edge had been singled out by at least fourteen Guarders. That’s how many the soldiers encountered, Captain Shin killing eleven of them himself. And the High General made sure every last person knew
that
, too.

What didn’t come from the general, interestingly, were any d
etails. Unlike the previous time, when Captain Shin violated the first rule of the army, there was no information about the attack. Not from either of the Shins, nor from any observers in the forest.

Everything and everyone in the north was unusually silent.

“Forts have more resources through which to send information,” Mal explained.

“Not that our observers might also be dead?” Brisack suggested.

“There’s no evidence either way to form any kind of conclusions. May never be any.”

Silently they glared at each other again, the temperature in the room increasing in relation to their tempers.

“You said
twelve
,” Brisack finally seethed.

“And you
told him
twelve!” Mal boiled back.

Brisack swallowed hard, but recovered. “You have the map!”

“He’s a test subject!”