The Mansions of Idumea (Book 3 Forest at the Edge series) (37 page)

Gadiman had noticed that the older Mal
became, the more reflective he was. Maybe it was a result of
age—the need to wax melancholy and reminisce about events no one
cares about. But still listeners smile politely until the speaker
forgets his direction and blathers on until he stumbles upon a new
one.

Gadiman never quite caught on to the art of
smiling politely.

Maybe because it involved smiling, and
politeness.

“The greatest experiment in the world,” Mal
continued, “is to observe how individuals react in different
situations. Because you have yet to grasp that concept, I’ve yet to
include you in my research.”

Mal sat back with a thoughtful smile on his
face that suggested he had an idea, that it would likely be
uncomfortable for someone, and that someone wasn’t about to be
Nicko Mal.

“You really need to leave that office of
yours more often,” Mal decided as Gadiman fidgeted. “I have an
idea—go to The Dinner at the Shins next week. Watch these people.
Then you’ll have a better perspective on what’s really going
on.”

“All I need is in that file!” He shook his
open hand, desperate to get the pages placed back in them. “And I
demand an answer about this woman!”

The Chairman sighed and held out his free
hand for the folder. Reluctantly Gadiman gave it to him, and the
Chairman returned the pages.

“Until I see action on her part,” Mal said
quietly, holding on to the file, “and not just words or ideas that
you think intimates treachery, there’s nothing to be done by you.
We have no laws governing how a person thinks—”

“Not yet!”

“And how would you enforce such a law? How
can you legislate thought?” He shook his head and handed the file
to Gadiman who snatched it greedily.

Not having an answer for Mal, Gadiman instead
said, “I have some men already trained. I started again a few years
ago, in anticipation of
this
,” and he shook the folder about
Mahrree Shin as if it were the woman herself.

“Yes, yes I know,” Mal sighed. “I also have a
few highly placed men that I’ve been grooming—”

“But
mine
are ready to act, at a
moment’s notice—”

Mal pinched the bridge of his nose. “You had
others ready to act as well, many years ago. And the only ones to
die in that situation were the ones
you
trained,
strangely.”

Gadiman squirmed angrily in his chair.

“However . . .” the Chairman continued with a
completely different tone which meant—finally—business, “I do see
potential in her as well. After all these years of silence, I
thought perhaps she’d seen the error of her ways. But she’s only
been simmering and intensifying. She may have just misspoken, but
each time I gave her that benefit of the doubt, she reared up and
proved me wrong. Rereading those four letters of hers, I realized
that what sounded innocent was actually quite pointed.”

At last he’s seeing it
, Gadiman
thought cheerfully—that was the correct term, right? Cheerfully?—as
he attempted a grin in pleasure.

“She did the same thing today; she’s not as
docile as she appears,” Mal continued. “Some will see only the
simple wife of the colonel, but I’ve spent my life analyzing
people: she has the potential to be the most dangerous woman in the
world.

“That’s why we’re going to bring our colonel
home to Idumea, very soon,” Mal declared as Gadiman’s yellow teeth
were exposed to more light than they’d ever seen. “If she’s kept
closer, we can monitor the situation better. And yes, you have my
permission to watch.”

The Chairman held up a warning finger to tone
down the nearly rabid expression of the Administrator of
Loyalty.

“
Only
watch
. It’s not time to
do anything else right now. Until I see action on her part, there’s
nothing more to be done,
according to the laws of Idumea
. Is
that understood, Administrator Gadiman?”

Gadiman stood up with his file clutched
firmly in his hands. He’d heard what he wanted. “Yes,
Chairman!”

---

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” Shem asked
as he saw Poe standing at the door of the Shins’ bedroom, rubbing
his eyes. He’d been dozing each morning on the Shins’ sofa since
they’d left, acting as the “sleeping guard.”

“No, Zenos,” Poe assured him, leaning against
the door frame. “I’m usually up an hour before midday meal anyway.
What’re you doing?”

Shem was holding up a tall timber and marking
off a section with a sharpened piece of charcoal. “Getting the
height correct.”

“But this room was never that tall.”

“I know. Perrin frequently bumped his head,”
Shem garbled as he held the charcoal between his teeth to shift the
wood. “But when I’m done, he won’t.”

“Need a hand?”

Shem grinned, dropping the charcoal into his
hand. “Yes, please. Hold that end. The pitch won’t be as steep, but
still enough for the snows to slide off.”

Poe, holding up a piece of framing, shook his
head. “Never seen construction quite like this.”

Shem marked another section. “And you’ve seen
a lot of construction, haven’t you? This is the way all houses are
built in the south. I helped with quite a few. We’ll make this the
best bedroom Edge has ever seen.”

Poe smiled. “Whatever you say, Zenos. I can
give you about two hours before I’m on duty again.”

“Perfect. But you know,” Shem paused, “if
there’s anything else you’d like to do, I’m fine here. Maybe . . .
check in on your parents?”

“Nothing better to do than to help the
Shins,” he said quietly.

Shem nodded and made a few more marks. He
laid down the timber on the frame of the large bed—the mattress had
been brought to Mrs. Peto to see if she could get it clean—and he
took up a saw. “See that piece there? You can cut that one for me.
Extra saw behind you.”

It never once occurred to Poe that Shem
wouldn’t need a second saw unless he expected additional help. Half
an hour later the timbers were joined in a framework that still had
Poe scratching his head.

“I don’t get it, there will be gaps—”

“Planking,” Shem anticipated his question.
“On both sides, outside and in. Space between will act as a buffer.
Keep this room warmer in the Raining Season than what was here
before.”

Poe shrugged. “If you say so.”

“It’s the same technique Shin used on the
children’s bedrooms. Trust me.”

“I do,” Poe muttered with a great deal more
confidence implied than merely about one’s opinion in wall
building.

Shem winked at him. “Thanks.”

As they positioned the framing, creating a
large back wall with a wide cutout for a window, Shem asked in the
tight tones of someone trying to be casual while handling a
sleeping skunk, “So what does your mother think about you joining
the army? I remember years ago you telling me she didn’t appreciate
soldiers.”

“She saw me working in the village yesterday,
wearing the jacket,” said Poe indifferently. “She shook her head
and walked on.”

“I’m sorry,” Shem whispered. “And your
father?”

“Dunno. Doesn’t matter.”

Shem sighed. “I don’t believe that, and
neither do you. Give them some time. Maybe they’ll come
around.”

“I don’t know why they would,” Poe said as
distractedly as one could be about throwing a sleeping skunk out of
a window. “They haven’t cared for years. Why start now?”

“Ah, Poe, I really don’t know what to say to
that except that
I
care, if that matters at all. I think you
look great in the jacket. I even told the lieutenant colonel
that.”

Poe smiled softly. “Thanks, Zenos. I put it
on for him,” he whispered.

Shem paused. “What do you mean?”

“Wanted to repay him, somehow.”

Shem nodded and hammered in a nail. “For
giving you a ride on your first day back?”

Poe swallowed and shook his head. He let go
of the framing Shem had tacked into place. “Will be a big window,”
he said, changing the subject.

“Yes, it will,” Shem grinned. “Rigoff found
the fort has an extra large thin pane of glass. We figured the
commander should have a clear view to the back alley, since that’s
always the direction the threats arrive.”

“Was there really an extra pane of glass?”
Poe raised an eyebrow.

“There
will
be, when Grandpy orders
one from Sands next moon,” Shem said. “He promised he’d take care
of everything.”

Poe grinned. “Grandpy’s not as fearsome as he
tries to appear, right?”

“Right. But don’t tell him I told you that.
He has a reputation to keep up, you know.”

The men chuckled and continued their
work.

“You’ll like living at the fort,” Shem
assured him as he took measurements for the planking. “Grandpy’s
just like a real grandfather. An ornery, scowling one, but a
grandfather nonetheless. Perrin—he’s kind of like everyone’s
father. But don’t tell him that unless you want to see him turn
red.”

Poe chuckled.

“Brillen Karna, he’s like a trusted uncle:
solid, devoted, never straying. Me, I kind of like to think I’m an
uncle, too. Rigoff, he’s our youngest brother come to join the
family. That’s what it’s like, Poe—a big family out on an extended
camping trip. Really, there’s nothing closer to home than the
fort.”

“Then it will be the only home I know,” Poe
sighed.

Shem gave him a brief one-armed hug. “We’re
always happy to have another nephew, Poe. But you—you’re more like
a little brother, finally old enough to join the ranks.”

“Thanks,” Poe whispered. “I’ve always thought
of Lieutenant Colonel Shin as my uncle. If I had one.”

Sensing a story behind that, Shem asked,
“Why?”

Poe looked down at a pile of sawdust and
started to kick it around. “He was the only one to ever regularly
visit me,” he finally mumbled.

Shem thought about that for a moment. “Visit
you?”

Poe nodded. “When I was incarcerated,” he
whispered. Feeling guilty about the mess with the sawdust, he began
to nudge it back into a pile with his boot.

“Ah,” Shem said quietly, watching the
developing anthill of sawdust just as intently as Poe did. “He told
me he checked on you occasionally.”

“Not occasionally, Zenos. Every day.”

“Really?” said Shem, surprised.

Poe nodded without looking up. Making a
proper sawdust mountain required his full attention. “My parents
never came by. But he did. First time, I was in for two weeks. I
didn’t even respond to him when he came by. I was so mad at him.
Thought it was his fault I was in there. He’d stay for maybe five
minutes, chatting to the wall. But he always came back. Second
time, I was in for six weeks. Answered him back a few times. Third
time, I was in the center cell. No windows, very little light. Nine
weeks.”

There was little sawdust left to pile, but
still Poe gently nudged stray little bits to the mound.

Shem just stood silently listening.

“Every day he came,” Poe eventually
continued. “Usually brought a piece of cake or bacon or something.
The last time, I was in a full season. And every day he came,
again. Always brought me something to eat. When it got cold, he
brought sweaters, blankets—things I wasn’t supposed to have, but
he’d just give the guards a threatening look and hand them to me
anyway. Sometimes we’d talk for half an hour, just about nothing.
Every day. You came by sometimes, Zenos, but he never missed a
day.”

Poe finally looked up at Shem, his eyes dry
but bloodshot. “How do I repay every day, Zenos?”

Shem’s eyes hadn’t been dry for several
minutes. He sniffed and quickly wiped at the wetness. “I had no
idea, Poe. He never told me.”

Poe started to kick at the careful sawdust
pile, but stopped just short of connecting with it. “I left Edge
right after they released me. I didn’t want to mess up here again.
I couldn’t bear for him to have to come visit me again in
incarceration. That place stinks, you know. I thought going
somewhere else would help me change.”

“You messed up again, didn’t you?” Shem asked
gently.

Poe barely nodded, his gaze focused on the
floor. “So much easier to steal. Decided, when I was alone in that
cell in Mountseen, I’d find a way to make things right again. Not
sure where to start, but I figured he could help me.”

Shem couldn’t help himself. He hugged Poe
again, who almost returned the awkward gesture.

“You made an excellent decision, for once,
Private Hili! We’ll give you something better to do. You want to
repay Perrin Shin? Be the best soldier you can be. The most
obedient, the most willing, the hardest worker, and the one ready
to do anything for him. Can you do that, Private?”

Poe looked up with the faintest of hope in
his eyes, and stood at attention. “Yes, sir.”

“Excellent! So, since I’m in charge of your
training at the fort, once things get back to normal again, you
better tell me exactly what happened when you left Edge. Just in
case we get some complaints, we can take care of it.”

Poe blinked innocently. “What do you
mean?”

“No one gets caught every single time, Poe,”
Shem said in a low voice. “You got away with a few things,
right?”

After a long moment, Poe nodded.

“Are you serious about making things right,
Private Hili?”

Poe hesitated, but nodded again.

“Well then, we need to catalogue what you’ve
done, then find ways to rectify it. It can be done
anonymously.”

Poe exhaled, and secretly Shem worried that
this might be a bigger project than he anticipated.

“Don’t worry, Poe—I’ll help you. You won’t be
taken to incarceration, either. I can guarantee that. We’ll fix
things together. That’s what big brothers are for.”

“Thanks, Zenos,” he whispered.