The Mansions of Idumea (Book 3 Forest at the Edge series) (30 page)

“And why is following tradition a marker for
something right?” Perrin asked her sharply.

Relf smiled again, this time at Mahrree.
“Maybe we don’t need to schedule the musicians after all? The
debate might still go on.”

Mahrree shook her head, but Relf winked at
her.

“Give me one good reason, Perrin,” Joriana
said hotly, “why she shouldn’t enjoy herself that night?”

Perrin sat forward, glancing at his daughter.
“Gladly. I don’t like the idea of my daughter in the arms of
strange men all night.”

Jaytsy’s eyes grew wide with anticipation.
Her mother’s glare put a stop to that. Since when had Jaytsy been
thinking about men?

“Perrin, it’s just dancing,” Joriana said.
“Don’t you remember? You went to a few and looked very handsome in
your dress uniform.”

“Do I have to dress up?” Peto asked.

“Of course, silly!” Jaytsy said. “That’s what
the suit’s for. Didn’t you even look at it?”

Peto was appalled. “I distinctly remember
Mother saying there wouldn’t be any dinners or anything. When’s
this dinner?”

Joriana put on an overly cheerful expression,
knowing she was facing a harder sale than when she tried to get
Mahrree to try on a hat. “The 47
^th
Day of Planting, and
you’ll look as handsome in that suit as your father used to look in
his. And this,” she picked up her fork daintily, “young man, is the
proper
way to hold your fork on that day.”

“The 47
^th
Day?” Peto repeated.
“Isn’t that the day King Oren died?”

Joriana’s enthusiasm dimmed.

Mahrree cleared her throat. “Thank you for
the history reminder, Peto,” she said hurriedly when she noticed
her father-in-law watching his grandson. “Now, about this
dance—”

“Yes, Peto, it is,” General Shin said
shortly, and took a bite of a pheasant leg.

Peto frowned. “So this party’s happening on
his deathday? Like a celebration? That’s kind of morbid.”

“Peto—” Perrin started in warning, but Relf
held up his hand.

“Yes, Peto,” he said steadily. “We celebrate
the day the old regime ended, and a new one began.”

Mahrree shook her head furiously at her son,
and Jaytsy bit her lower lip in worry for her brother who sometimes
just didn’t get the hint to shut up. Such as now, for instance.

“Yeah, but the king died and—” Something in
the brittle expression of his grandfather stopped Peto, but
unfortunately only for a moment as the rest of the history lesson
caught up to Peto.

“Wait a minute,” he gulped as he stared at
his grandfather. “
You
executed him!”

Mahrree rubbed her cheeks. “Peto, Peto . .
.”

“No, Mahrree,” the High General said coolly
to his now-pale grandson, “it’s all right. Yes, Peto, I organized
the execution squad, and I gave the signal for them to proceed. It
was the only option. Nicko Mal and I had been in negotiations for
moons about this. What Mal wanted was for the people to rise up in
rebellion and overthrow Oren in a bloody riot. We’d already had a
few of those, but they all stopped short of invading the king’s
mansion. Mal wanted the army to help incite a truly aggressive
attack, one that would kill Oren and likely many of his servants,
civilians, and soldiers. Then Mal would
gallantly
step in
and restore order to earn the undying devotion of the people. In
the end, executing Oren was the best solution, and the only one I’d
support. It was controlled and humane, and only one man lost his
life. That was important to me. Every other scenario would have
resulted in far more death and destruction. I celebrate
that
, son, and the fact that since that day I’ve never again
had to organize an execution squad. I hope the world never sees
another.”

Peto swallowed hard and nodded. Then, because
he was an exceptionally slow learner, he added, “This was his
house, too. Wasn’t it.”

General Shin had started to take another bite
of his pheasant, but paused. “Oren gave it to me himself, when his
mistress—”

Mahrree cleared her throat loudly.

“Oh, get over it, Mahrree,” he said
impatiently. “Your children are old enough to know that men and
women occasionally come up with their own arrangements. Yes Peto,
that woman came to her senses and took herself and her two teenage
sons and left Oren. He worried about this house being raided in
their absence.”

“And he also wanted your protection?” Peto
said daringly.

Joriana fidgeted as Relf held the pheasant
leg halfway to his mouth. “I protected that idiot for as long as I
could. But I also vowed to protect the people, Peto. His
senselessness came in conflict with that. It was either the world,
or Oren. Rather a simple decision, really.” He bit into the
fowl.

Peto gulped again. “Where are those sons
now?”

“No one knows,” Relf said indifferently as he
chewed. “One, named Sonoforen, was rumored to be trying to kill Mal
many years ago, but no one’s seen him for probably a dozen years or
more. Likely dead. The other son, Dormin, also hasn’t been heard
from for many years. If you’re worried that something will happen
on the anniversary, you needn’t be. There’s nowhere in the world as
safe as this mansion, I assure you.”

Peto looked thoughtfully at his plate. “Well,
only as safe as a place can be that makes people dress up and eat
food with fancy forks and dance afterward.” He looked up at his
grandfather with a mischievous grin.

Relf winked back at him.

And just like that, they were fine again.

Mahrree was always a bit envious of males,
and their ability to overcome a conflict in the same amount of time
it takes to belch.

That just didn’t happen with every kind of
relationship—

Mahrree realized that Perrin had twisted to
steadily watch his mother who had completely ignored him for the
past several minutes.

“Yes,
about this dance
, Mother,”
Perrin intoned, “I remember dances. I also remember what young men
think about when they put their arms around a young woman. And back
then dresses still came up to a girl’s throat.”

“This one’s modest, Father,” Jaytsy promised.
“Mother wouldn’t let me get the pink one.”

Perrin smiled briefly at his wife who
returned it.

But Mahrree noticed that Jaytsy’s eyes were
still glowing with the wonder of what “young men thought.” It was
probably time for another with her daughter, especially if she’d
been overhearing Kindiri and Lieutenant Riplak’s suggestive sweet
roll and cucumber sandwich discussions, with a side helping of
eyebrow waggling. It was just a good thing melons weren’t in
season.

“Perrin,” Joriana started again, “Don’t you
trust your mother’s judgment?”

“Mostly, yes. But I don’t trust young
officers or young men. I used to be one.”

Joriana waved that off. “Then don’t you at
least trust your daughter?”

“In the wrong situation, Mother, I wouldn’t
even trust myself,” he said soberly. “And I’m many years
older.”

“You’ll be there and Mahrree’ll be there the
entire time!” Joriana gestured wildly. “You can follow the poor
girl around if you want, introducing yourself to every young man
who looks at her. You can even wear your sword. But let the girl
enjoy herself, just once!”

“Perrin,” his father spoke up. “Listen to
your mother. We’ve been doing this for years, and nothing improper
has ever happened. It’ll look good if your family is there for
once. Some have speculated about what you’ve been doing so far away
and for so long. This will show the Shin family is still
trustworthy.”

“Trustworthy,” Perrin repeated.

“You know what I mean,” said the general
dismissively.

“No, actually, I don’t. What
do
you
mean?”

“General,” Mahrree said quietly, “do you want
me to reserve a place on that debating stage for you?”

It was hard to ignore her, but Relf did. “The
Administrators need to be able to count on the Shin family to
perform their duties, Perrin.” Something in the general’s voice
suggested additional levels of meaning.

Perrin’s shoulders twitched. “I’ve never
failed to perform my duty, sir. I’ve nothing on record to
hide.”

“But you do in your eyes,” the general
reminded him. He shifted in his cushions for a better position,
while Perrin repositioned himself uncertainly. “All I’m suggesting,
son, is we’ve been in a period of relative peace. When there’s no
clear enemy to fight, some go looking for one, even to make one. We
say we want peace, but conflict’s always been more interesting.
Don’t make yourself a target.”

“The Administrators have plenty of enemies,”
Perrin said heavily. “They’re called Guarders. Why should they
worry about anything else?”

General Shin looked quickly around the table.
No one had been eating for some time.

“General, I asked you a question!”

He turned to his son. “Because Guarders
aren’t confined to the forests, Lieutenant Colonel! Guarders are in
our city and villages, just biding their time. The sooner you
realize our security’s been infiltrated, the better off you are. At
some point, they
will
strike again. Not just little bits of
thieving here and there, but a full-out show of force. The
Administrators don’t want this knowledge out, but it’s crucial that
it is.” His voice trailed off to a whisper. His revelation likely
didn’t have the effect he expected.

Perrin scoffed. “I’ve heard that before. The
Chief of Enforcement in Edge accused Shem of being a Guarder after
that first successful raid on Edge. But there was no evidence then,
and still none now. And you know Zenos well enough yourself to know
he’s no threat.”

Relf shook his head. “I’m not accusing the
master sergeant. But . . . there’s growing suggestion of Guarder
infiltration, elsewhere.”

“What kind?” Perrin demanded.

“The Administrators have reason to suspect
Guarders are living among us as spies. They dress, talk, and act
like everyone else, but no one knows their real identities. It
seems that even our citizens have joined their ranks.” Relf sighed.
“Remember those two lieutenants that were found dead in front of
the guest quarters when your mother and I were staying at your fort
years ago? Perhaps they
were
more than just squabbling over
a girl.”

His son was unconvinced. “Karna investigated
that, and so did Idumea. Brisack even sent a report that there had
been problems between them. There was no evidence of anything
Guarder related.”

“But maybe others are related
to
Guarders,” the High General suggested. “Maybe those citizens know
of their heritage and are continuing their work.”

Mahrree noticed Peto watching his grandfather
with unusual intensity.

“It makes no sense,” Perrin scowled. “If
they’re out there, and no one knows who they are, then how do
we
know?”

The general shook his head. “It’s just what
some of the Administrators’ assistants
say
, Perrin, in
whispers to some of my men. I don’t have hard evidence myself, just
rumors that run back and forth. But rumors, as you know, quite
often begin with a word of truth. If I could reveal our suspicions
to the public, we might succeed in finding proof, either way!”

He sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“Perrin, you know well enough the
Administrators don’t need hard evidence in order to become anxious.
Some are looking only for hints and suggestions, and are eager to
point their fingers. Anyone who doesn’t follow exactly what the
Administrators are directing may be suspected of sympathizing with
the other side. Son, they’re looking for disenchanted people just
like—”

He glanced at his daughter-in-law who wore a
look of dread for the past minute.

Perrin finished his sentence. “Just like
me?”

The general exhaled and winced in pain as he
did so. He gripped his ribs as he murmured, “No, no, no it’s not
like that—”

“Well, there’s no reason to suspect me or my
family!” Perrin said loudly. He looked at Mahrree, who trembled in
worry.

She couldn’t help it. She remembered her
letter-writing occupation of a few years ago. It was fortunate none
of those letters questioning the changes in education and debating
went past the junior skimmers to anyone of importance in the
Administrative hierarchy, or someone could even be suspecting
her.

But what if her letters
had
gone
somewhere—

“There’s no evidence in our behavior,” Perrin
insisted. “It’s not even as if we had any Guarder ties or family
connections.”

The general glanced at his grandson—Peto’s
gray eyes big and unblinking—before turning to the lieutenant
colonel. He sat up as best he could among the pillows that nearly
swallowed him. “Lieutenant Colonel Shin, I’m ordering you, as High
General of Idumea, to do nothing that could cause you to be
suspected of anything. You must do your duty—even if it means
dancing, even if it means eventually moving back here and becoming
a general. Is that understood, soldier?”

Mahrree’s hand covered her mouth in dread as
she waited for her husband’s response to the direct order.

Jaytsy’s eyes shifted back and forth between
her father and grandfather. Peto stared at his grandfather, and
Joriana closed her eyes, waiting.

When the lieutenant colonel finally spoke,
his voice was low and steady. “You say I must do my duty, sir. But
what if my duty to the Administrators comes in direct conflict with
my duty to the Creator?”

The general stared back. “The Creator knows
you must follow orders. A child who has neglectful parents isn’t
responsible for what he doesn’t know. The Administrators will be
held accountable for whatever they order you to do.”

“But what if,” the lieutenant colonel
prodded, “despite poor parenting, that child still learns what’s
right and wrong? If he then deliberately chooses what’s wrong, the
Creator holds
him
responsible, not his parents. I’m
ultimately responsible for what I do. One should not honor one’s
‘parents’ if it means going against the Creator’s will.”