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

by Trish Mercer

  She turned pink and looked horrified at Mahrree, as if suddenly remembering who she was. “Oh! I didn’t mean . . . I, uh . . . what I meant was . . .”

  Mahrree chuckled. “It’s all right. I’m rather relieved he was uncomfortable with other women. I’m the only one who should ever be in his arms. If you want to keep him happy about all of this, don’t push him to dance. He’ll find another way to be civil, I’m sure.”

  Joriana reluctantly nodded her head. “Yes, I’m afraid that may be true. Ah, here it is—last year’s stack of notes. The best Dinner yet! Now, I delegated all of this out last season, but usually I start checking on people a few weeks before the big day. Oh dear, do we have some catching up to do. We’ll visit each place and introduce you, since this may be your duty someday.” She elbowed Mahrree excitedly, and Mahrree bit her tongue prudently. “First we’ll begin with the bakeries. I use two, one for the breads, and one for the cakes . . .”

  Joriana Shin made fun of her husband’s file-keeping, but had she been a general, she would’ve needed far more than just one large cellar room to keep track of her details. Of course, Mahrree didn’t say that out loud.

  But she was glad by the time the instructor arrived to give her a chance to take a breath. Later they had at least ten stops to make—maybe more, she lost track—to assure all the foods, decorations, tables, chairs, and groomers for the temporary stables were in place. She was grateful for the break to watch Jaytsy learn to dance.

  Kuman arrived with his own accompanist, a portly man with a small guitar and a propensity for nodding with an overly-happy grin. Mahrree thought it was good Perrin wasn’t there. He would have felt the need to fix his mouth.

  Kuman was slender-built, just slightly taller than Mahrree, with curly brown hair cropped short, and a playful expression. When he saw Joriana he bowed deeply.

  “What an honor it is to be in your home again, madam,” he said in an overly formal tone that made Joriana almost giggle and Mahrree almost gag. “I’ll have your gown ready by tomorrow afternoon, if you wish to come by for a fitting?”

  “That’ll be perfect, Kuman. By the way, I’d like you to meet Mahrree, my daughter-in-law.” There was such obvious eyebrow raising and winking between Kuman, his accompanist, and Joriana that Mahrree stiffened in anticipation, but didn’t know what kind of ambush to expect.

  Kuman nodded to the portly man who, in a flash, whipped out a cord with markings on it and flung it to Kuman.

  Joriana had already stepped behind Mahrree and, strangely, began to tickle her around her throat.

  “Mother Shin!” Mahrree squirmed and unwillingly laughed. “What is the meaning of—”

  It was to get her elbows up, she discovered a moment later, so that Joriana could take the cord from Kuman, quickly wrap it around Mahrree’s bust, and call out a number to Kuman who wrote it down in a little notebook his friend handed him.

  “Waist!” Joriana called out, and she slid the cord down around Mahrree’s middle.

  “What in the world’s going on here?” Mahrree demanded, trying to catch her mother-in-law’s unnaturally fast hands.

  She shouted out another number which Kuman wrote, and flipped the cord vertically. “Length!”

  “Oh, this is ridiculous,” Mahrree folded her arms and pouted. “This is because I wouldn’t choose a dress, isn’t it?”

  “Less than a week, madam!” said Kuman fretfully as he eyed one of her shoulders, then the next, and wrote down the number on the cord Joriana handed back to him. “My seamstresses and I will be up all night as it is with last minute alterations, and now I need to create another gown? You do have lovely shoulders, though. Have you considered—”

  “Keeping them covered, thank you,” Mahrree said curtly. She turned to Joriana who was looking through some samples of cloth in a bag Kuman had brought with him. “Mother Shin, why can’t I just wear the green dress you bought me—”

  Kuman blinked at her. “A dress? For The Dinner?” He sent a hopeless look to Joriana.

  Joriana rolled her eyes. “It’s her first Dinner. And the dress is linen.”

  Kuman sneered, as did his guitarist, and together they tsk-tsked Mahrree.

  She rubbed her forehead like her husband did, and began to realize where he picked up the habit.

  “This one, Kuman,” Joriana waved a swatch. “I think this would be best for the assistant host of The Dinner.”

  Kuman smiled as he wrote. “Ah, Smoldering Slumber—excellent choice. One of my favorite colors.”

  Before Mahrree could tell exactly what color it was, Joriana thrust it into the bag again and nodded to her gown-maker. “She likes things simple, so ankle-length, position D bodice, medium to thick clusters—”

  And now they were speaking in code, Mahrree thought glumly.

  “—mid-elbows, liberated turtle neckline—”

  Kuman’s head popped up from his notebook. “Turtle! On a gown?”

  Mahrree stared at Joriana too.

  Joriana sighed despondently. “My son will insist—what can I do?” For Mahrree, she drew a line just below her throat, which made Mahrree smile. Turtles obviously didn’t have cleavage.

  “And with a coverlet,” Joriana said to Kuman “for a bit of variety.”

  Kuman nodded as if the mysterious coverlet was a particularly inspired addition.

  “Do you have any cro-shayed available?” Joriana asked Kuman who clapped the notebook shut.

  Mahrree knew most of the words, but was lost as to their meanings. Idumea was becoming more annoying by the minute.

  “My wife finished up one last night that would lie nicely with the Smoldering Slumber.”

  Mahrree began to wonder if gowns were supposed to sound a bit indiscreet . . . and sleepy.

  “But how about her shoulders?” Kuman tilted his head and eyed Mahrree’s shoulders again with a look she couldn’t define, but one that made her intensely uncomfortable. “Perhaps a bit of cut-work?”

  Now this sounded painful.

  Again Joriana sighed. “My son likes them covered. To keep all of us out of trouble, keep her covered. And speaking of Perrin, he snuck off to the garrison instead of staying here to learn dance!”

  Kuman shook his head sadly. “To have such misplaced priorities . . . Ah, well. But how fares the High General?”

  Joriana beamed. “Doing much better. He’s hardly in the study anymore, and can spend the night in his bedroom. He’s even at the garrison for few hours today. But,” she said with a shrug, “he won’t be dancing either. Well, I still have two women for you to work with,” she beckoned the men to follow her out to the Grand Hall. “Let me call my granddaughter, Jaytsy—”

  But Jaytsy was already waiting by the grand staircase, bobbing eagerly. Peto sat on the balcony wanting to avoid any introductions but hoping to see the action he could make fun of later.

  “Actually,” Mahrree interrupted, “I think you best just spend your time with Jaytsy. If Perrin’s not going to dance, I hardly think he’ll be comfortable with me dancing with anyone else.”

  “Ah, Mother, what will you do all evening?” Jaytsy asked.

  “Watch you!” Mahrree said. “And every young man who comes to The Dinner.”

  Kuman bowed to Mahrree. “Very well, the young lady it is.”

  Jaytsy proved to be a quick study. So fast, in fact, that Kuman was dancing elaborate steps with her by the time the hour was over. At least one Shin would be socially acceptable, Mahrree thought.

  Before Kuman left he went to visit with his sister Kindiri in the kitchen. As he went out the back door, he called to Mahrree, “Should you change your mind, ma’am, I’ll be happy to come back for you and the colonel. Perhaps the colonel will have a change of heart, a new understanding of his true duty?”

  Mahrree chuckled a bit tensely. She wasn’t sure if the man was sarcastic or truly misdirected. “I think he’ll be wearing one of your gowns before that happens, but thank you anyway.”

  “And your gown will be read
y before the big day.” Kuman smiled politely and nodded his goodbye. “For the Shins, I handle everything myself.”

  Strangely, that statement didn’t strike Mahrree as reassuring.

  But other things worried her that afternoon, especially as she looked at the extensive list they were about to tackle that afternoon. Mahrree couldn’t help but wonder: where was the food coming from for The Dinner?

  Many items on the menu were easy enough to get this time of year: veal, lamb, and pheasant. But others were items normally seen only at harvest time: grapes, apples, and squashes. And the fruits and vegetables weren’t just the dried ones—one of the menu items called for pumpkin baked stew.

  And for three hundred people?

  Mahrree didn’t work up her courage to ask until she and Joriana were preparing to walk to the first bakery.

  “Where does it all come from?” Joriana repeated her question as she put on her wrap. “The garrison, of course. You have a reserve at the fort, right?”

  “Yes, but not of apples! Those are gone by late Raining Season. We’re down to only wheat now.”

  They left the kitchen through the middle back door, Joriana slamming it repeatedly since it never seemed to latch properly. Mahrree smirked to herself; it was good to see that even the world’s second largest mansion had its little quirks.

  “We have the most extensive reserve anywhere,” Joriana told her as they walked. “The Administrators saw to it. There’s even a large cooling area in a cellar that preserves fruits and berries from one year until the next. They pack it with ice and sawdust during the Raining Season and it keeps cool throughout Weeding.”

  “That’s . . . that’s remarkable,” Mahrree said. “But that seems a bit much, doesn’t it? What’s the purpose?”

  “The purpose?” Joriana exclaimed. “To prove that even in times of need, the Administrators can provide! That’s one of the reasons why The Dinner is held early in Planting Season when stores are usually low. It’s not just to commemorate the date King Oren was deposed, but also to celebrate that we still have so much, when with the kings we used to have so little.”

  Mahrree thought for a moment. “How much grain is there?”

  “A full two years’ reserve for one thousand people. Plus other essentials, like molasses, dried meats and fruits, and so on,” Mrs. Shin said proudly.

  “That’s impressive,” Mahrree said, her mind figuring. “But not near enough for all of Idumea.”

  “It’s not for Idumea,” Joriana said, nodding to a few women passing them. “It’s for the Administrators, their families, and the highest levels of the army.”

  “Only for the leadership?” Mahrree felt a knot in her stomach again. Those seemed to come with regularity here.

  “Of course. And those in the households, naturally.”

  “Why no one else?”

  “‘In an emergency, you need to preserve the hierarchy to prevent anarchy,’” she recited. “Giyak, the Administrator of Security, came up with that little motto.”

  Mahrree felt the knot tighten. “And because it rhymes, it must have merit,” she murmured. “So the leadership survives while the populace starves?”

  Joriana furrowed her brow. “It’s not that harsh, Mahrree.”

  “Could that reserve ever be used for someone else?” Mahrree wondered. “Suppose a tragedy hit somewhere else, and part of the reserve was needed—”

  “I know where you are going with this: all the way to Edge, aren’t you?”

  “Mother Shin, we have five thousand people who may need help just for a week or two. That would be only a fraction of the reserves. Would the garrison let that go?”

  That Joriana didn’t immediately answer disappointed Mahrree. She thought the solution was obvious.

  “You see,” her mother-in-law began after a hesitation, “it’s not intended for regular people. Certainly you and Perrin and the children could take something back, and enough for the soldiers, but it’s not for everyone, understand?”

  “No, actually, I don’t.”

  She sighed. “It’s for necessary people.”

  Mahrree bristled at that. “Who decides who is ‘necessary’?”

  “The Administrators have.”

  “Is Kindiri necessary?”

  “As part of our household, yes.”

  “What about her brother Kuman and his wife?” Mahrree pressed.

  Joriana thought for a moment. “I’m sure some surplus could be sent quietly their way, as it could be sent to your mother.”

  “What about their neighbors?” Mahrree pushed. “If a mere cook and a dressmaker and an old woman are ‘necessary,’ why aren’t their neighbors necessary? Who’s to judge who deserves life and who deserves death? Are the Administrators the Creator now as well?”

  Joriana let out an exasperated breath.

  Mahrree held hers. She’d done it again, gone too far.

  “Mahrree,” her mother-in-law said in a strained voice, “I love you as if you were my own daughter. In fact, I don’t know how I could love you more. But so help me, you are the most vexing woman that ever was! Has anyone ever told you that?”

  Mahrree winced. “Yes. Quite often. My own mother, for starters,” she said apologetically. “I blame it on my father, though. He always pushed me to ask the tough questions and find the hard answers.”

  “Well when I get to the other side, I’m going to find him and have a little chat!” Joriana said sharply.

  Mahrree couldn’t respond, too delighted by the idea of tall, elegant Mrs. Shin marching up to her small, slender father. She’d have her hands on her hips in anger, he’d have a finger on his lips in patient contemplation, and when she finished letting him have it, he would say something like, “So what do you think about the color of the sky here in Paradise? And did you know no arguing is allowed?”

  Joriana nudged her with her elbow, and Mahrree looked to the side to see Joriana’s pained eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Mahrree. I didn’t mean to bring up sad memories.”

  Mahrree threw her head back and laughed. “Quite the opposite, Mother Shin! I was just thinking how much he’ll aggravate you. I’m not really sure that’s allowed up there, though, so it should be quite a meeting.”

  Mrs. Shin chuckled with relief as they turned a corner down to the bakery. After a moment she said, “I’m sure there’s something that can be done for Edge. When Perrin comes home from the garrison we’ll ask him to check on the reserves tomorrow. Perhaps something could be spared, just to make things a little easier for everyone.”

  “Will the Administrators allow it?”

  “I really don’t know. I hope so. The garrison holds it, but the Administrators put it there. I think the one to make the final decision is Relf. It’s just one of those things, you know? The things that we just have to work around? Really, though, life is far better now than when we had the kings. From year to year you never knew what impulsive decision they’d make next. You didn’t feel it as much in Edge, but Idumea was a very unpredictable place. At least with the Administrators when there’s a change, it takes place so slowly we can prepare for it. Relf helped put that in their Resolutions, you know. He told Nicko Mal that he’d support the overthrow as long as the new government put in some kind of check on its decisions. Decrees pass only after weeks of discussions in committees and with the approval of the majority of Administrators. That was Relf’s insistence, and why there’s an odd number of members,” Mrs. Shin explained, “and why Nicko Mal has the power to decide a tied vote if someone is absent or abstaining,” she finished, obviously pleased with her husband’s accomplishments.

  “I hadn’t realized he influenced so much in developing the government,” Mahrree said. “There’s nothing written in the history texts about Relf Shin’s assistance in creating the government.”

  “Because the Administrators didn’t want to seem as if they were influenced by anyone else but their own ideals,” said Joriana, a bit put off by the slight so many years ago. �
�But everyone knows that without the full support of the army—without Relf,” she clarified proudly, “the overthrow never would’ve happened. At least, not peacefully. The Administrators owe a great deal of gratitude to the Shin family. Perhaps that will help us have some influence over them again?” She stopped walking, and Mahrree saw they stood in front of the first bakery on their list.

  Debt of gratitude to the Shin family? Mahrree pondered that. Most people forget a debt within minutes—never mind decades—because that way they’ll never feel the need to repay it.

  But influence? Oh, the Shin family definitely had influence. But enough?

  Pushing aside those troubling thoughts, Mahrree smiled at her mother-in-law’s expectant face and addressed another more manageable worry. “So this is where you ordered the cakes, is it?”

  Chapter 13 ~ “As if there are different kinds of people in the world.”

  “My, she’s certainly a thorough woman, isn’t she?”

  Perrin chuckled tightly. “Yes, Administrator Giyak. When Mahrree gets started on something, there’s really no stopping her.” Then he held his breath. If there would be any fallout from what she’d said yesterday morning, it would likely come now.

  The Administrator of Security sifted through the detailed pages of what had occurred in Edge, and Mahrree’s recommendations for the future. “So I see,” he muttered, smiling faintly at the words. “Probably fortunate for the world she can’t be elected a magistrate. She’d redo the entire village.”

  Perrin forced another chuckle. “She’s said the same thing herself. Good thing, eh?”

  The Administrator glanced up at him with an expression that said, We’ll just let yesterday slide.

  Perrin nodded once back.

  “So,” Giyak looked at the other three officers seated at the table with Perrin, then at the Administrator of Family Life who sat across from them, watching Perrin intently. “We’re here to discuss the reaction of the villages and forts to the recent crisis, and to catalogue what has so far proven successful, and the ways we need to improve—”