The Mansions of Idumea (Book 3 Forest at the Edge series) (19 page)

“I must admit, I’m looking forward to
bringing our boy Perrin home for a while.” Nicko clasped his hands
on his lap and sighed. “So many more possibilities now, and so many
more friends for him to get to know . . . I can hardly wait.”

Chapter 6
~
“This is another reason why I hate
Idumea.”

T
hat there wasn’t
music playing when the tall buildings of Idumea first appeared on
the horizon was a bit of a disappointment to Mahrree. She expected
fanfare of some sort greeting her from the endless farm lands to
announce the appearance of the greatest city in the world.

Then again, maybe there
was
a
triumphant arrival melody, but she missed it because she was trying
to stay awake to keep the two heads of her very heavy and sleeping
children balanced on each shoulder.

How Perrin managed to get the opposite seat
all to himself was still a mystery to her. He said it was less
comfortable, but with his legs up and his nodding head bouncing in
rhythm to the swaying of the coach, she gladly would have tried out
the ‘bumpy’ bench alone, just for an hour. It must not have been
too unbearable because when the soldier acting as footman knocked
on the side of the carriage to announce Idumea was in view, Perrin
woke up with a satisfied smile. Although he’d had an ominous air
about him all day yesterday and during the morning after their
miserable night of non-sleeping, he seemed to be attempting a more
cheerful outlook this late afternoon.

“Actually, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” He
smiled at his wife as he stretched.

“I wouldn’t know,” she said wearily, still
feeling the kink in her shoulders from attempting to sleep while
leaning against her husband during the night. “But I will know on
the return ride home. That bench is
mine
. These children are
yours
.”

Perrin grinned in a way that usually made her
forgive him instantly. Even after sixteen years his eyes still had
a powerful effect on her. He’s just lucky they do, she thought to
herself, or he’d be walking home.

Perrin leaned forward as if to kiss her, but
instead reached out and shook the knees of each of his children.
“Jaytsy! Peto! Wake up. You didn’t want to miss the approach,
remember?”

With matching moans the teens sat up and
grabbed their necks.

“Ah, I’m so sore,” Jaytsy complained.

“
You’re
sore?” Mahrree said.

“Where are we, anyway?” Peto yawned.

“Just past the center of Pools, on the
approach to Idumea,” said Perrin.

Jaytsy looked disappointed. “We missed
Pools?”

“That’s where you were born,” Mahrree
reminded Perrin.

He scoffed. “Not as if I remember that day.
We moved just a couple moons later. But I have a feeling Jaytsy is
disappointed about missing Pools for another reason.”

“I know I am!” Peto said, holding his belly.
“I’m starving, and one of Gizzada’s sandwiches would have been
perfect about now.”

Jaytsy nodded. “Or just a fourth of one of
his sandwiches. Been years since I had one, but those were pretty
hard to forget. I’ve never understood how he could get so many
ingredients to stack up to six inches high without toppling.”

“I was thinking that maybe,” Mahrree said,
“if everything goes well that is, we could try to come back here
and pay him a visit. I’ve heard his restaurant is quite
unforgettable.”

Perrin smiled. “We’ll see what we can do. And
thanks for nothing, Peto. Now I’m craving a Gizzada sandwich.”

“You know how I hate to be hungry alone.”
Peto stretched, turned to the side, and stuck his head out the
window. “Whoa—I didn’t know Idumea had hills.”

“Those aren’t hills, Peto,” his father told
him. “Those are buildings.”

Jaytsy turned quickly to look out her window.
“How tall are they?”

“The tallest building is seven levels high,
with a lookout tower on top, constructed all out of block. I’m
curious to see how they held up in the land tremors. Why aren’t you
looking, Mahrree?”

She held up her hands. “The children have the
side windows, my back is to the driver, and you have that whole
bench.”

Perrin slid over and patted the seat next to
him. “Waiting for an invitation?”

“Actually, yes,” she said primly. “I
understand that’s the custom in Idumea. Yelling over fences to
borrow some eggs isn’t proper.” She sniffed. “Simply patting a
bench is, well, unsophisticated.”

“There’s another custom in Idumea,” Perrin
said, trying only sloppily to match her attempt at snobbery. “It’s
called Wife Grabbing.” Faster than she expected, Perrin caught her
arms and pulled her over to sit on his lap.

“Really?” Jaytsy squirmed. “Wife
Grabbing?”

Mahrree chuckled but Perrin said, “Well, some
of the Administrators have been known to—”

“Perrin,” Mahrree warned. There were a few
questionable behaviors in the big city that hadn’t yet reached the
furthest village of the world, and Mahrree wanted to keep her
children as innocent as possible.

“Sorry,” her husband murmured. “Can you at
least see now?” he teased and kissed her on the cheek.

“Yes I can. And I thank you, sir, for the
comfortable seat.” She wrapped her arms around his and leaned back
on him with a contented sigh. For as long as he was relaxed, she
was going to take full advantage of it.

“Oh, you’re not really going to act that way
in Idumea, are you?” said Jaytsy, her voice a combination of
disgust, embarrassment, and just a bit of delight. “You’ll be
kicked out of whatever society Grandmother Shin tries to take you
to!” But her eyes revealed she was happy to see her parents
flirting again. Mahrree realized it’d been nearly a week since
they’d been so at ease. It certainly wouldn’t last.

“That’s why I have to get it all out of me
now,” Perrin said. “Besides, we’re not going into anything of
society. Living for so long in the north has drained all sense of
deportment from me. In fact, I’ll be surprised if we aren’t run out
of Idumea by tomorrow morning.”

Peto’s face paled. “Exactly how are we
supposed to act?”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Mahrree chuckled.
“Just act like your grandmother and grandfather and you won’t have
any problems.”

The look on her children’s faces told her
that advice didn’t help.

“So,” Jaytsy started slowly, “I need to make
sure my hair is perfect and my clothing is spotless and give
everyone a careful smile, and Peto has to squint his eyes and clear
his throat gruffly and tip his cap over and over. Peto, you need to
get a cap.”

“Speaking of caps,” Perrin said guiltily.
Using his boot he gestured to where his lay on the dusty floor of
the coach. “Mahrree, would you mind?”

With her foot she kicked it up high enough to
catch it. She attempted to brush off the dirt from the dark blue
cloth and shading brim. “Hmm. We have been traveling, after all.
They’ll forgive you for a little dirt on your uniform, right?”

Perrin only grunted as he took it from her
and replaced it properly on his head. He promptly took it off and
set it on the seat. “Not ready for that yet,” he murmured.

Mahrree hugged his arms again. “Well, we’re
not here to make an impression. We’re just here to help your mother
take care of your father. We won’t be going to any events—”

“I doubt anything is going on anyway,” Perrin
cut her off, obviously uncomfortable at the idea, “if the reports
of damage are correct. No one will have time to do anything but
clean up.”

Mahrree nodded. “We’re here to help, not be
entertained.”

Unconvinced, Peto and Jaytsy nodded and
turned back to the windows.

“I can hardly see the mountains anymore,”
Jaytsy said disappointedly. “Just a faint bluish-gray blur on the
horizon.”

Perrin leaned out his window to look. “You
know, I never realized before you can actually see the mountains
from here. No one in the world ever wants to see them, so they just
ignore them.”

“I think that’s how Mountseen got its name,”
Mahrree said. “The first village where the mountains loom so
obviously in the background that you can no longer ignore
them.”

Peto looked to the north. “I kind of miss
them. All of this feels so . . . open.”

This was the first time in two days the
scenery was not predictable, Mahrree realized. As they had left
Edge they traveled past field after field waiting for the plows to
churn over the black and brown mud.

The landscape had a pattern—fields became
spotted by houses, then were taken over by a village, then spotted
again by houses, then turned back into undisturbed fields once
more. And that’s how everything blandly appeared for the last
seventy-five miles. At first seeing the villages was exciting, but
soon each place had an endlessly dull familiarity about it that
wasn’t even worth looking out the windows.

But now the fields were different somehow.
Still dormant, but with a uniquely Idumean feel to them, as if they
knew they were on the border of someplace important. The clods of
dirt even seemed more precise as the occasional farmer squatted in
the soil to analyze the dryness. And even the farmers wore tall
silk hats, Mahrree couldn’t help but notice, not floppy homemade
ones fashioned out of straw like back in Edge.

Very few homes they saw as the coach whipped
past them had any damage, with only a crumbled chimney here, or a
shifted addition there. But everything seemed to be larger near
Idumea. Windows, doors, rooflines—as if everyone near the city was
two feet taller than the rest of the world.

“The damage here is odd,” Jaytsy remarked.
“That neighborhood before had some crumbles of stone. But
here—there’s nothing.”

“I was thinking that too,” Mahrree said,
leaning only slightly out of her husband’s embrace. “It’s as if the
land tremor was feeling temperamental when it reached here, picking
and choosing which houses to hit and which to miss.”

“I don’t remember so many houses through
here,” Perrin mumbled. “Used to be fields. Farms. Dairies. Ranches.
Now it’s all just these sprawling block homes with—what was that
name? Zebra Eztates? They
named
the neighborhood?” Perrin
rolled his eyes. “That’s Idumea for you. Give something real the
name of something imaginary,” he grumbled.

Mahrree was glad her husband couldn’t see her
face. She gave a warning look to both her teens, but they were
already nodding slightly back to her. He was only getting started,
so they should just stay out of his way until it was over.

“Look at that—that isn’t a garden. What
is
that?” he exclaimed before Mahrree could point out they
didn’t have a proper garden either. “It’s just an expanse of short
green grasses. What good is that but for goat feed? I think I even
saw someone cutting that stuff back with some slicing contraption!
Not even letting the sheep eat it? We need to cultivate every patch
of land we can for either produce or orchards or livestock, but
this—what a waste.”

“Well, Perrin,” Mahrree patted his arm more
firmly as if his complaining would stop with just the right amount
of force and rhythm, “at least they’ve taken your road labeling
idea to heart. Every house we’ve passed has a number, and every
road has a name.”

He shrugged behind her. “Used to be a time
when you were promoted for defending a village or killing a
Guarder. Now it’s for making people
name
things,” he said
dully.

Mahrree gently elbowed him. “I’m far prouder
of you developing systems making it easier for soldiers to defend
their territories than I am for when you single-handedly killed
nearly a dozen Guarders.”

“Well, of course. So am I,” said Perrin
dismissively.

“What kind of name is that, Father?” Peto
asked, distracting his parents from the fact that Lieutenant
Colonel Shin had been little more than a glorified law enforcer for
many years. “Wapiti Way?”

“Oh, for pity’s sake,” Perrin groaned. “Just
let me die now. And there’s another—Elephant Elms! Idumea’s gone
stupid. Mythical animals, likely mythical houses and people as
well—”

“I remember how Terryp described elephants,”
Peto said. “Those giant animals in the carvings at the old ruins,
right? With flapping ears? But what were wapiti?”

“Giant deer,” Mahrree told him. “With massive
antlers. Terryp saw carvings with three people riding them.”

“And zebras,” Perrin said moodily. “I’d give
anything if those were real. Striped horses. Now that’d be
something to see. They ran in huge herds, according to what Terryp
saw in the carvings. They’d stampede this place properly. I hate
Idumea.”

Jaytsy sighed. In a loud whisper to her
mother she fully intended her father to hear, she asked, “How long
is he going to be on this self-righteous ‘Why I hate Idumea’ rant?
Because, I have to tell you, he’s sucking away all the excitement
like a mosquito. I’m almost tempted to
smack him
.”

“I agree,” Mahrree whispered loudly back and
patted her husband’s thigh.

Perrin reluctantly shrugged. “I’ll complain
only until your grandparents’ house. Maybe again later, after I’ve
seen some more of this place. Definitely probably on the way home,
though, I must warn you. But I’ll be good at my parents’ house. All
right?”

Jaytsy sighed again. “That’s the best you can
do, Father?”

Perrin couldn’t contain his smile anymore.
“No, but it’s the best I’ll
try
to do. When we get to the
first road jam, you will be joining me in complaining, I’m
sure.”

“What’s a road jam?” Peto asked.

Perrin leaned out the window. The houses were
clustered more closely together here, and the people seemed to
multiply as well.

“You’re about to see one, Peto. Corporal!” he
called out the window to the driver. “It’s going to get messy up
ahead. That’s why they call it a jam. Remember, you’re driving an
army coach. People tend to be afraid of these. Don’t be shy about
blazing through, understood?”