After my report to General Morley, Percy and I walked silently to the hotel. We checked in with the sergeant, who behaved pretty much the same way as he did the first time. He assigned the same room to us as before. I shivered and hoped that Jack Weller wouldn’t be there.

He wasn’t, to my great relief. The photograph pinned on the wall had been taken down. Perhaps he’d been sent to the battlefront with a new squadron, or assigned to a new room at the very least. Carrington still presided over the room. He’d been propped up with pillows, and regarded us with one eye partially open when we entered. One curtain, pulled back and tied, let in so much sunlight. The room looked brighter than I’d ever seen it.

Now that the open curtain let in the light, I could take a better look at Corporal Carrington. I discreetly peeked at him. If you look up the word “weathered” in the dictionary, a picture of his face is pasted there. Dark stubble covered his cheeks and chin.

My candle still stood on the dresser, if you could call a half-inch wick surrounded by melted wax a candle. I chose the same bunk as I did before, but Percy chose the top bunk on the opposite side - where Jack had slept before.

“I’m going for a walk,” I told Percy.

“Okay. I think I might take a nap.”

I left the hotel and briskly walked around the streets. My knapsack bounced against my back. I put my hands in my pockets and whistled a little, trying to look nonchalant. Really, I searched for Shaphan.

He sat against the wall where we’d found him the first time. “Hey, Shaphan,” I said softly as I walked by. A patrol marched on the other side of the street. I turned the corner of the building and waited. When the sound of the patrol’s boots faded, I came back around to where Shaphan sat. He stiffened at the sound of my boots. I sat down and said, “It’s just me. Callum.”

“This place isn’t safe to talk. Let’s move to the alley where we were last time.” He stood up and walked around the building, one hand on the wall to guide him. “Is Percy here, too?”

“No, he’s taking a nap.”

“Oh, okay.”

We entered the alley and I moved the barrel like I did last time. Shaphan sat on the doorstep and I sat on a gunny sack. We both ate a piece of army-provided dried fruit. “So what’s really going on with Percy?” Shaphan finally asked.

I sighed and recounted my encounter with him and Chantelle in the garden. I also told the story of the rabid raccoon, and how Percy saved my life.

“Do you forgive him for whatever he could have done with Chantelle?” Shaphan asked thoughtfully.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Chantelle and I are friends. Percy knows that! I thought Chantelle liked me, and I liked her. We had a good thing going, and then Percy had to barge in and ruin it all!”

“Will you ever consider forgiving him?”

“I doubt it. Why would I do that?”

“Maybe he told the truth, about them just talking.”

“Then why did she look so shocked when she saw me?!”

“I’m not sure.”

I drew circles in the ashy ground with the tip of my boot.

“I’ve been thinking about that news article you told me about. The one about the Triumdemic,” he told me.

“What about it?”

“I think the reason the king only gave the Triumdemic a slap on the wrist is because he wants them to continue providing their goods to him and the noblemen.”

“I suppose.”

“And there’s huge conspiracy theories about the Triumdemic, you know. That they control the king’s lawmaking process, and even more recently that they control the war. What if they were true?”

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“No, only crazy people believe those stories. Not that you’re crazy, just that there’s no way that they’re true.” I thought Shaphan was smarter than this!

“Think about it. Here are the facts: Astor has anti-bird tech, which creates the need for a human courier. The king gives the courier messages to deliver to the general of the army. What if the Triumdemic says they have insider tips about Astor’s troop movements? The king trusts them, and acts accordingly. But what if the Triumdemic is also telling the queen of Astor the same thing, that they have information about Egron’s squadron placements? The Triumdemic would literally control the war.”

“Oh.”

“Now back to the courier. Maybe he’s a spy for the Triumdemic. Or if he’s not, he’s just an unknowing pawn in this game. A sheep among wolves, if you will. Except the wolves wear sheep costumes. Even the Egronite king, the general, and the entire army - the prince too, if he doesn’t know about his father’s source - are pawns. There’s money to be made when countries are built, but vastly more money to be made when a country is brought to its knees. I bet the Triumdemic is just waiting to cash in. Meanwhile, they’re the puppet masters of the whole war. Why do you think there are so many casualties? ”

“Oh, my God.” I said. The fog on my worldview lifted. “I’m a pawn.”

“All the soldiers are.”

“No, you don’t understand. I’m the Egronite courier.”

Now Shaphan buried his face in his hands. “You’re going to kill me now. I know it. Do it quickly, please.”

“What? No, I’m not going to whack you. I need to do something, though. Any ideas?”

“What does that make Percy, then? If you’re the courier.”

“He’s my personal bodyguard.”

“Really? Wow. If you don’t mind me saying, he doesn’t seem like the bodyguard type.”

“I know, I definitely was expecting someone… beefier.”

Shaphan laughed. "How did you meet him?"

“Pretty straightforward; the king dictated the first message to me and when I left the throne room, Percy was waiting for me. He introduced himself, and said he would be my bodyguard. I think both of us were surprised at what the other person looked like. You kind of come up with ideas of what people look like.”

Shaphan gave me a look.

I blushed. “Oh. Right.”

“Actually, I do that all the time; guess what people look like. And you, Callum, have straight brown hair. Average height, kind of muscly. Freckles. Um, a soldier’s uniform but with dirty boots.”

I grinned. “You were close, but my hair is more blond. And curly. And I don’t have freckles.”

“So I wasn’t right, but you just want to make me feel better.”

“I wasn’t finished! I guess I am average height. No comment on the muscles. And my boots do need cleaned up. Why did you guess that?”

“I can hear you scuff them, especially when you’re embarrassed or don’t know what to say.”

“Hmm, I guess I do tend to do that. I never really noticed it before. Thanks for making me so self conscious about my nervous tics.”

“Yep.” He scratched his nose.

We continued to talk for a bit longer and the conversation turned back to the Triumdemic. “I need to do something. I can’t have a clear conscience, now that I know that the messages that I carry will cause the deaths of so many innocents. Well, not innocents, they are soldiers trained to kill fellow humans, but they’re still people, and they don’t know what’s really going on.”

“But that’s what you’ve been doing this whole time! What changes now that you know one more detail?”

“King Venlaan and his advisors are supposed to be in control of their army. It’s not fair to anyone that something else is pulling the strings. And I have a little responsibility for the casualties, now that I know.”

“I’m sorry for telling you, if it makes you feel like you need to do something. You don’t need to do anything. That’s the king’s job.”

“No, don’t feel sorry. No matter how I heard about it, I would feel this way. I’m certainly not loyal to King Venlaan; he caused the whacking of everyone I loved. It’s because I know now that I might be indirectly responsible for whacking people. I’m going to go talk to Percy about it and see what he thinks I should do.”

“Even though you’ll never forgive him?” He asked with a small smile.

“Even though I’ll never forgive him,” I repeated. “I’d still ask his opinion. Also, I don’t know when we’re leaving here, but I’d like to try to meet with you again if we can. Thank you for your insight.”

“Anytime.”

I said goodbye and walked to the hotel, deep in thought. As I approached the porch, I started to look around for Percy. There he stood - around the side of the building, by the water pump. And who is he talking to? When Percy shifted on his feet, I caught a glimpse of the other person: Jack Weller.

Why him, of all the hundred soldiers in this town? He gave me the creeps.

I chose not to walk up to them; instead, I entered the hotel and went to my room. Maybe I’d take a nap.

I’d only just laid down, with my arm as a pillow, when Percy came in. “Hi Callum!” He said cheerily, as if nothing had ever happened between us.

I sat up and started to tell Percy about my conversation with Shaphan. At the first sentence he froze in place, by the third, he’d sat roughly on his bed and rested his chin on his hands. He’d gone pale again like last time we’d talked about the Triumdemic. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he has something to hide.