The Mansions of Idumea (Book 3 Forest at the Edge series) (83 page)

Joriana had kissed his head and placed her
warm hand on his chest as well, interlacing her fingers with her
husband’s. “But you can stay with us until morning, Perrin, just to
make sure we’re all right.”

And he had.

Perrin didn’t know he even had any more tears
as he laid there with eyes still shut. But these tears came for a
different reason. As they slid down his face they released the last
of a weighty burden that had sat on his shoulders all night like
coffins. Light filled the room that Perrin could discern even
through his closed eyelids. The warm pressure on his chest expanded
his lungs fully for the first time in days, willing him to go
on.

“I’m glad you’re all right,” he whispered to
the presence that surrounded him, “and that nothing can touch you
now. I’ll be fine, too, eventually. And I’m going home to
Edge.”

The pressure pushed tenderly into his chest
and straight into his soul. The presence filled him so completely
he was sure he would feel some of it for the rest of his life.

He knew it was morning. He knew it was time
to get up. He knew it was time to leave. He hated to break the
moment, but he also knew the moment was his forever. He opened his
eyes to greet the light.

Outside the dark, heavy clouds continued to
rain, and there was no fire lit yet in the guest quarters, but
Perrin’s room was inexplicably bright and warm.

---

In the next room, Shem woke with a start in
his narrow bed to see Perrin standing over him like a great black
shadow.

“Up, Zenos! We have Administrators to face.
Then, we go
home
.” His voice sounded like the man Shem
always knew.

Shem grinned and sat up as Perrin plopped
down next to him, his eyes remarkably soft.

“You saw them, didn’t you?” Shem said
reverently.

Perrin shook his head but smiled. “Better. I
felt
them.” He put an arm around Shem. “I told you recently
that you missed your calling, that you should’ve been a builder.
I’ve changed my mind. Shem, you should’ve been a Guide.”
Impulsively he kissed him on the forehead. “Come on, little
brother. We have scary old men to face, then we go home to
Edge.”

Shem sighed in relief. “Good, because Perrin,
I have to say this, and I hope you don’t take it the wrong way: I
know this is your home and everything, but I’m so glad we’re
leaving. I have to admit, I
really
hate Idumea.”

For the first time in days, Perrin
laughed.

---

They’d looked for Gadiman everywhere in
Idumea. But he wasn’t in his office, not at his usual inn taking
his usual meal—boiled beef, one fried potato, one slice of black
bread with onion, without fail—and he wasn’t at home.

His housekeeper, a woman with a pinched face
and a scowl likely acquired from working for the Administrator of
Loyalty for so many years, told Doctor Brisack that morning, “He
went out last night for the burial, and never came back. What he
does is his own business. Now, unless you want something else, I
have a gathering room to sweep.”

Doctor Brisack went back to the Headquarters
early that morning, baffled.

“Nicko,” he reported to the Chairman, “he’s
simply vanished! He was seen at the burial last night, but then he
gave me the slip again. I sent out ten men searching last night,
and all reported back this morning they found nothing. He never
went home last night.”

Mal considered this. “He’d know we wanted him
for the hearing this morning. I’m sure someone got him the message.
You’d think this is precisely the kind of thing he’d be eager to
show his face for. I don’t get it.”

The doctor sat in his chair and sighed. “Must
have done something out of the ordinary.”

“Maybe the weasel went out to celebrate at a
tavern for the first time and didn’t know how to hold his mead,”
Mal guessed. “He’s likely under some filthy table wondering why his
hair is stuck to the floor.”

The men chuckled.

“Ah, well. We can proceed without him,”
Brisack decided. “I’ll make some excuse for him. In the meantime is
everything ready?”

“Oh, yes,” Mal nodded. “Perrin’s not going to
know what hit him, nor will he know what to do with his new
little buddy
. His father spoke to him last night, and I
imagine he still hasn’t stopped salivating.”

“He’s untested, though,” worried Brisack. “We
haven’t even started his training. That was supposed to begin after
graduation—”

“We don’t need to train him,” Mal said
simply. “All we need to tell him is that he’s going in as the new
captain.”

Brisack squinted. “Nothing more? He’ll be
useless to us.”

“Oh, he’ll become useful,” Mal assured him.
“As you pointed out, we haven’t trained him sufficiently for the
task. But there’s someone very close to the situation who can train
him for us, and I suspect that after all he’s witnessed here, he’ll
be most willing.”

Mal clasped his hands on his lap.

“The Quiet Man is about to receive his first
direct assignment, after all of these years. It’s almost become too
easy, my good doctor. Too easy.”

---

There’s something soothing about plunging
one’s hands into soapy water, even if it’s to scrub the mud out of
work clothes for the second time that day.

The warmth. The repetition. The evidence that
something was improving. A sense that while everything else was
spinning out of one’s control, at least the clothes were relatively
clean. In that washing room, one small corner of the world was in
Mahrree’s power, even if it meant she was scrubbed Peto’s work
trousers so hard that the knee was wearing thin.

But she wasn’t about to stop until their work
clothes were bright again. Something had to be, because everything
else for the past two days and nights had been dark and heavy.

There had been no news.

Nothing since the long second message arrived
from General Cush an hour after Shem rode away from their house.
The message detailed what had happened that awful morning when Relf
and Joriana were discovered stabbed to death in their bed by one of
the maids. Three Guarders and two soldiers were killed, one was
seriously injured, and Riplak had come up missing. Kindiri was
found bludgeoned and unconscious in the Great Hall, but the two
maids upstairs had slept through it all until the morning.

Then . . . no more news.

Yesterday was the longest day Mahrree. The
burial was to have been yesterday evening, according to Cush’s
message. Perhaps Perrin and Shem made it to Idumea, unless . .
.

Today had proved to be as slow and unbearable
as yesterday. Mahrree, Jaytsy, and Peto sifted rubble and moved
debris again—anything to distract their imaginations from what
might be happening in the middle of the world. They kept their
heads low to avoid speaking to anyone, but it didn’t help.

Again villagers hurried over to hug them,
weep for a few minutes, and tell them how brave General Shin was,
how lovely Mrs. Shin seemed to be, and—worst of all—to ask how the
colonel was handling the news.

The only thing Mahrree could say was, “He’s
gone to Idumea. Thank you for your concern. Can I help you with
that rock now?”

But there were a few people whose embraces
she gratefully accepted.

“Oh, Miss Mahrree! I’ve been looking all over
for you,” Teeria Rigoff called as she rushed over to the Shins
while they added broken dishes to a rubbish wagon. “Milo told me
there’s still no word?”

Mahrree tried to smile bravely at one of her
favorite former students, but it was a pitiful attempt. “No,
nothing yet,” was all she could whisper. Only the fort knew that
Perrin had left in a fit of temper, and was followed by Shem.

Teeria sighed. “And what about the sergeant
that Karna sent after them?”

“Haven’t heard back from him either,” Mahrree
murmured.

“Then send out more!” Teeria insisted. “Milo
said he’d—”

“Lieutenant Rigoff is needed here, as are all
of the other soldiers,” Mahrree said firmly. “Karna told me last
night he’d go himself, but I told him no. Edge needs its major,
especially now. Look around, Teeria! The village is still a mess.
Every man is needed. Besides,” she said in a quieter tone to avoid
the attention of Edgers trying to listen in as they dropped more
rubbish into the wagon, “this is a family matter.”

Teeria narrowed her eyes. “Miss Mahrree,
others may not remember, but I certainly do. You taught us that we
are
all
family. Colonel Shin and Master Sergeant Zenos are
like my brothers. I’ve known them since I was a teenager. I
volunteer my husband to find my brothers! And Poe Hili wants to
help, too. Just say the word.”

Mahrree couldn’t fight the tears welling in
her eyes. “Thank you, Teeria,” she said. “Maybe tomorrow, if we
have no news.”

Teeria nodded, satisfied that Mahrree was
finally considering accepting help. “They’ll be fine, Miss Mahrree.
I know it.”

Mahrree sighed. “No, you don’t, Teeria.
What’d we discuss in class about ‘knowing’?”

Teeria smiled dutifully. She never forgot a
lesson. “That we shouldn’t claim to know something unless we really
do. That what we know isn’t the same as what we hope for.”

“So,” Mahrree said analytically, “you don’t
‘know’ that they’re all right. Neither do I. All we can do is—” She
faltered, unable to keep up the pretense of teacher.

And Teeria was no longer her student as she
hugged Mahrree again. “Then I
hope
,” she whispered, “with
all that I have. And I’ll cling to that to get me through until we
hear something more, just as you will.”

“Very good, Teeria,” Mahrree sniffed.
“There’s a reason you were always my favorite student.”

“And not just because I married the
lieutenant you thought was a perfect match for me?”

Mahrree almost managed a smile. “That helped,
I must admit.”

Teeria released Mahrree. “I also
feel
it,” she said quietly, “although I know we can be deceived by our
feelings. But I feel a sense of calm when I think about them.”

While Mahrree did too, it was the lack of
news which was most distressing—the not knowing.

But as Mahrree scrubbed Jaytsy’s tunic, she
had an idea. If only the Administrators would realize no one read
the notices they forced the printers to create, maybe they’d let
them send out useful updates instead, about discoveries,
improvements, bodies found along the side of the road . . .

Maybe not.

As she rung out Jaytsy’s tunic, she tried to
concentrate on what would need to be done tomorrow, but all she
could think of were . . . bodies on the side of the road.

If someone found Perrin or Shem lying injured
or worse, how would they know who he was?

Names, Mahrree thought as she held up
Jaytsy’s light brown top, now a permanently darker brown. Names
needed to be on their uniforms, or on papers in their pockets, or
maybe even engraved on thin pieces of metal hung around their
necks. Something to identify who they are and to tell others where
to return them.

Mahrree set aside the tunic and put one of
her skirts in the warm water, feeling badly again for the poor
sergeant sent out after Perrin and Shem. He finally arrived back in
Edge that afternoon, about two hours after Mahrree had spoken to
Teeria.

Major Karna and the sergeant brought the news
to Mahrree as she worked at a neighbor’s house. “He made it only as
far as the first messenger station,” Karna sighed.

Jaytsy and Peto came over from their work to
hear the update.

“And? Did you see them?” Mahrree asked with
her hands balled in nervous fists.

“Ma’am, they were there
all right
,”
the sergeant replied with contempt dripping from his voice. He
tried to keep it low to avoid sharing the news of his commander,
but several people in the area were leaning subtly over to hear.
Gossip was a major pastime in Edge, and with the entertainments
temporarily halted, the saga of the Shins was the most popular
distraction in the entire village.

“I didn’t steal two horses or beat up
messengers, ma’am, but
I
was the one who spent a day and two
nights locked up in incarceration! Just because I was in a uniform
and showed up ten minutes after their tantrums!”

“Oh dear . . .” Mahrree rubbed her
cheeks.

Karna had looked at Mahrree apologetically.
“I’m rather surprised we haven’t heard anything more from Idumea.
With all due respect to the High General’s memory, no news doesn’t
always mean ‘no news’. We need to consider the possibility that
they never got there.”

Mahrree nodded sadly.

“I’m sorry, Mahrree,” Brillen continued. “I
fear we’ve already waited too long. I’m pulling forty men from the
reconstruction efforts and sending them out immediately to
look.”

Mahrree shook her head. “No, Major. The
soldiers are needed for securing Edge.”

“We can spare some men for our commander,
Mrs. Shin. And besides,” he added with a dismal twinkle in his eye,
“it’s not exactly appropriate for you to tell the second in command
what to do with his soldiers.”

“Sorry, Major,” she said meekly. “I just see
this more as a family concern—”

“So do I, Mahrree. Perrin once gave me a copy
of The Writings, and I do remember that the first line is, ‘We are
all family.’”

Mahrree sniffled, knowing that Perrin thought
Brillen hadn’t ever opened it. “Then I
suggest—
to my
family—that we wait till morning? If we hear nothing, then send a
search party?”

Mahrree used all of her worry to vigorously
scrub out a stain in her skirt, ignoring the fact that she was
rubbing out the dye as well. The fort had been most helpful. Guards
were posted day and night at the house, and Karna slept last night
on the sofa with his sword on the floor next to him. He would most
likely come again for the night since the sun was about to set, and
he’d try to talk with Peto or get Jaytsy to smile. He was such a
good man, just completely inexperienced with teenagers. Still,
Mahrree was grateful for a capable officer in the house.