by Trish Mercer
“But I heard he escorted you out rather hastily,” Brisack tried one more time.
“He did,” Mahrree acknowledged, “but then we talked and I explained to him all that he misunderstood. Did you also hear that we walked home happily arm-in-arm?” she said in a teasing tone that turned accusatory. She wasn’t used to having so much of her personal life exposed. “Or did your ‘extra eyes’ leave us alone once they saw us hiding in the trees on the campus and kissing like lovesick college students?”
Brisack blinked rapidly, taken aback. “Uh . . . I don’t exactly employ spies, Mrs. Shin,” he stammered. “I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.”
She smiled at him in a mollifying manner. “I’m fine. And so is my husband. He’s a very passionate man, Doctor Brisack, and never does anything half-hearted. He’s wholly devoted to me and to Edge. In fact, I don’t think the villagers will ever realize just how much he loves them.”
Brisack swallowed and nodded, surprised by Mahrree’s adamancy. “Of course, of course,” he said, then added, “He’s also married to a very passionate woman.”
“Works nicely, we think,” she said and, hoping to put an end to the conversation that was growing increasingly uncomfortable, she used Relf’s tried and true diversionary tactic. “Would you like to take something home with you? As you can see, we have plenty of food left over—”
Sensing their discussion was over, Brisack smiled thinly. “Actually, I was asked to bring back a slice of cake for Nicko Mal, which has already been set aside for me, but thank you anyway, Mrs. Shin.” His eyes darted to the side and noticed his wife approaching, as well as Perrin returning from saying goodbye to the kickball director. In a whisper Brisack said, “I see our lesser halves returning to us.”
“What was that?” Mahrree asked, sure she didn’t hear him correctly. But Brisack had already put on a new, albeit pained, smile on his face for his wife.
“Well Mrs. Shin,” Mrs. Brisack said pleasantly, “sorry to have left you, but I haven’t seen my friend there since she moved to Orchards, and I simply had to compliment her on the shoulder bag. Exquisite! It was to live for! So many jewels! Hint, hint,” she elbowed her husband again. “Did you see it, Mrs. Shin?’
Something in Doctor Brisack’s smile turned brittle.
Mahrree smiled pleasantly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t. I supposed I don’t have much of an eye for such things.”
“Ah, well,” said Mrs. Brisack, patting her arm. “We’ll train you yet in what to notice. Lovely evening, dear. Wonderful to meet you, but it’s late and we must be going home.” To her husband she said, “Have you Nicko’s cake?”
Doctor Brisack sighed and answered dully, “Waiting by the door.”
Perrin, who had returned, shook Administrator Brisack’s hand. “Thank you for coming, and I mean it about that fishing trip.”
Some distant light sparked on again in Brisack’s eyes. “I think I’d like that. Thank you both for a most entertaining evening.” He fixed his gaze so earnestly on Mahrree that she felt her insides squirm. But then he was off, pulled away by his wife as if he was an indolent school boy and she was his long-suffering teacher.
Perrin put his arm around Mahrree again as the Brisacks made their way to the line of those waiting to say goodbye to Relf and Joriana, including the Cushes and Thornes who were in discussion with the Shins.
Finally alone with her husband, Mahrree said. “Brisack seems to be a decent man. Although,” she added slowly, “he seemed a bit odd at times, as if he was doing more than just having a conversation, but also carrying on some kind of analysis which kept getting in the way. I felt like I was being evaluated.”
Perrin shrugged. “Probably. I heard he has studies and research going on all the time. Now,” he turned to her, “you need to think carefully. Did you say anything, anything at all to anyone that might get back to Gadiman? I have no idea how long he was here or why.”
“I don’t either!” Mahrree said in a panicky tone, remembering the scowling man’s face. She thought for a moment. “I did speak for a minute to the Administer of Science during dinner, and suggest that he send a group to the west to investigate the etchings about Mt. Deceit.” She cringed. Now that she thought about it, that was a rather forward thing to say.
“And?” Perrin nudged her.
“All he did was stare for a moment, then asked me to pass him the butter dish.”
Perrin smiled partway. “Figures. What else? What did you say to Brisack when Gadiman was there?”
“Just that we would help with ideas for their parenting guide,” she remembered. “And that I teach teenage boys. I think Gadiman may have heard all of that.”
Perrin considered. “No, I think you were safe there as well. He seemed rather disappointed there was nothing else said, so I think you passed the test, Mrs. Shin. We can let you out in public! Now, I hate to ask this, but have you seen Peto lately?”
“He found a few boys and went outside with his new kickball. I really don’t want to know the condition of his suit, but he seemed happy enough. Why?”
Perrin nodded toward the door. “That was the director of kickball in Idumea my father wanted me to meet—Mr. Flamafoul.”
“I’m beginning to smell something foul,” she murmured.
“Apparently our son has ‘natural ball handling skills,’” Perrin said.
Mahrree frowned. “But they don’t handle a ball in that game. They footle it.”
Perrin sighed. “He spent the last hour in the back garden with Peto, tutoring him.” He looked significantly at Mahrree.
She returned the look. “Why was he even here, may I ask? Could it be that your father invited him?”
Perrin growled quietly under his breath. “Flamafoul told me boys can start playing for the professional teams at age eighteen.”
“When they should be starting at the university,” Mahrree pointed out.
“But many boys start training with the junior league here earlier, around age sixteen,” he emphasized. “Their families even move to Idumea to be closer to the trainers.”
Now Mahrree growled. “And not too coincidentally, in two years our son will be sixteen.”
“And should we happen to move here,” Perrin said in annoyed undertones, “Flamafoul would be most interested in seeing our son participate. Wants our whole family to be his guest in his reserved box at the arena next week for the opening matches. He wants to introduce Peto to the team.”
“This is all your father’s doing, isn’t it?” Mahrree hissed. “He’s getting Peto to come here so you’ll have to follow. Ooh, and just this evening I was thinking how much I’ve grown to like Relf Shin!”
Perrin chuckled mirthlessly. “They’ve been in Idumea too long. Underhandedness is rather a way of life here.”
Mahrree caught Relf’s eye in the distance, and the High General had the decency to look a tad uncomfortable under her glare that said, I’m on to you, old man.
“And I’m afraid Jaytsy’s already been won over to Idumea,” Mahrree murmured.
“Nah, she’s not,” Perrin flimsily waved that away. “Nothing here to interest her . . .” His voice dropped off as he saw the Thornes take their turn to say good night to the Shins.
Jaytsy stood next to her grandmother, beaming. Lemuel took her hand and kissed it good night.
Perrin grumbled.
Mahrree grumbled back.
Versula waved a subtle farewell to them—more so to Perrin than Mahrree, she suspected—and Qayin Thorne tipped his cap which he had just put on to go out into the night. Perrin and Mahrree plastered on their Dinner smiles and waved back.
Lemuel was saying something quietly to Jaytsy which required her to lean in very close to him. Whatever he whispered into her ear made her blush. She covered her mouth and giggled as he bowed slightly before following his parents out the door.
Mahrree exhaled and felt her husband bristle next to her. “I have to admit, I’m not too keen about a match between those two r
ight now,” she said in a low voice. “I just don’t like the parents interfering that way. My mother tried to get me involved with so many different men—”
Perrin looked at her askance. “Really? Who?”
“Oh, I don’t remember anymore. The point is, she’s just too young. I’ll see if I can find out from Jaytsy what she thinks of him. Maybe I’m worrying about nothing. But I still think something like this needs to be her choice, not the choice of her future in-laws.”
Perrin went positively rigid next to Mahrree. “In-laws,” he sneered.
She patted his arm. “Perrin, I know you’ve said this before, and even though it was an interesting evening, and I met some intriguing people, and the food was delicious, and the musicians exceptionally talented, and this dress feels amazing, and you look fantastic as usual, and our daughter had the time of her life as did, apparently, our son—it’s just that when I saw Jaytsy in the arms of all those young men, and now whispering with Lieutenant Lemuel Thorne, what I really want to say is—”
“You hate Idumea?” he guessed.
“Yes!”
“That’s my wife!” he said, hugging her.
When the last of the guests finally left, General Shin, looking pale and exhausted even though he’d been sitting on the sofa for the last several hours, said to his son, “I think you made an impression tonight, even if it was only with the women. I overheard many wives say to their husbands, ‘Why didn’t you ever hold the baby?’ There may be some men less than happy with you.”
“The only thing that matters,” Perrin said to his father, “is if you are less than happy with me.”
“Of course not, son,” Relf smiled. “Once again, you’ve exceeded my expectations. Now, had I known I could have held a baby to get out of dancing for all of these years, I would have done it, too. Someone would have had to show me which way was up, though.”
“Now, High General,” Mahrree said sharply, her arms folded but her eyes throwing daggers, “what was this about a certain kickball director? Evaluating my son? For playing in Idumea?”
Joriana sent Mahrree a look that claimed, I wasn’t part of this, while her husband solidly held Mahrree’s gaze.
Relf cleared his throat and said, “I’m a bit peckish, Mahrree. Would you mind getting me a plate of something to snack on? There’s still quite a bit on the tables over there . . .”
Chapter 17 ~ “What we need is someone who has a special talent.”
Shem sat at the large forward command desk checking the list left for him by Grandpy Neeks. With a piece of charcoal he put a mark next to the last name at the bottom of the list and smiled.
“You got them all, Sergeant,” he declared. “Everyone’s reserves, along with the fort’s, are safely gathered in at the second schoolhouse. Good work.”
The staff sergeant standing in front of the desk nodded and smiled. “Thank you, sir. It was a bit of a race toward the end there, but before dark fell we got the last of it in. And we have a dozen soldiers guarding it, just as Karna ordered. Edge’s food supply is secure.”
Master Sergeant Zenos sat back and sighed. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am. Major Karna and I have been worried—”
“Everyone’s been worried, sir,” the sergeant confided. “I thought the villagers would be reluctant, but with those pesky teenagers sneaking around—”
Shem nodded. “At least now we have one of them on our side.”
The sergeant grinned. “Private Hili has been most helpful, sir. Major Karna never would have rounded up that last group without Hili leading us to their hiding spots in the marshes.”
“Glad to see the soldiers are recognizing the value of Private Hili now,” Zenos said.
“Indeed. I never doubted him,” the sergeant proclaimed, and Zenos grinned. The staff sergeant was one of the few who believed Poe was sincere in his desire to help the fort, while dozens of other soldiers who had the pleasure of chasing him down and throwing him into incarceration a couple of years ago watched him dubiously. But not anymore.
Now everyone in the fort trusted him too, especially since he informed them that he spied fifteen men he knew from Moorland sneaking over to Edge. They were intent on finding Edge’s food reserves, Hili learned from an old acquaintance who didn’t realize Poe had recently switched sides. Shem had sent out his newest recruit in his old clothes to find out what was happening in the marshes. Poe came back with the news that apparently no one wanted gold and silver anymore, but the price of a bag of sugar or a jug of mead in Quake and Mountseen was now equal to that of a small house.
“Never realized food would become so valuable,” the sergeant said, reading Shem’s mind. “But now that it’s all under guard everyone will sleep better tonight. Well, at least those that aren’t on the night shift like us.”
Shem chuckled with the sergeant, feeling for the first time in weeks a little bit of weight lifted from his shoulders. He opened his mouth to respond, but a voice coming up the stairs and exclaiming loudly stopped him.
“So to add insult on top of injury—or maybe it’s just another injury on top of injury,” Major Karna complained as he reached the top of the stairs, “it’s now snowing!” He took off his cap covered with a white layer, and dropped it on the desk in disgust. Bits of snow fell off and melted in wet clumps on the wood. “As if Nature hasn’t handed us enough troubles, it decides to see what else it can throw at us!”
“I don’t believe it,” Shem breathed as he balled up the snow from the top of the cap.
“All the years I’ve been in Edge, I never remember a snowfall this late.” Karna put his hands on his waist and looked around the office for who might responsible for the storm. A corporal in the corner copying reports to be sent to Idumea cowered in innocence.
“And certainly nothing so wet and heavy,” Shem mused as he looked at the ball of snow rapidly melting in his hand.
“You finished the Shins’ roof, right?” Karna asked.
Shem, still examining the snow, nodded. “Poe and I moved their mattress back in yesterday, and not a moment too soon. This snow—it’s very heavy.”
“Oh, that’s not good,” the sergeant murmured.
“Why?” Karna asked urgently. “What does it mean?”
Shem swallowed. “Snow isn’t necessarily bad,” he started. “As long as it doesn’t freeze tonight.”
Karna rubbed his stubbly chin. “Freeze? Would that kill the pea plants?” He came from a family of wagon makers, not farmers.
“Maybe not,” Shem said, “but the bigger concern is, it could destroy all the blossoms that are just starting to bloom on the fruit trees.”
“No blossoms, no fruit later,” clarified the sergeant, whose family owned orchards.
Karna sat down hard on a chair. “Is there anything we can do?”
Shem shook his head as he wiped his wet hand on his trousers. He stood up, walked to the large windows that gave them unobstructed views of the forest and Edge, and pressed his face close to the window to see out into the dark night. It had the faint glow that usually accompanied a snowstorm. “We pray.”
“I leave the praying to you and Perrin,” Karna sighed. “You know that, Shem.”
“Now’s as good as time as any to begin, Brillen.”
---
“Perrin, I’ve been thinking . . .” Mahrree started.
“Why?” he mumbled into his pillow.
“Because the mansion is finally quiet again—”
“I meant, why do you start thinking when I’m ready to go to sleep? It’s so late it’s well on its way to tomorrow. In the morning we have to finish cleaning up, then—”
“This will take only a minute.”
“Nothing with you ever takes only a minute,” he murmured.
“What did you say?”
“Just . . . talk already.”
“All right, I told you a couple of hours ago that I didn’t appreciate my mother trying to set me up with men. But I think I would have disliked it even more
if she tried to discourage a potential relationship.”
“Your minute’s about up.”
“She danced with him five times.”
“Who?” Perrin mumbled.
“Jaytsy. With Lemuel Thorne.”
Perrin groaned.
“Had my mother actively campaigned against someone, that might have driven me straight to his arms.” She paused.
“I’m listening,” he encouraged.
In triumph, Mahrree smiled to their dark bedroom. “Before we leave for Edge, I think we should invite the Cushes and Thornes over for dinner one night. Your families have been friends for so many years, after all. Let’s see if there’s anything between Jaytsy and that lieutenant. And Versula Thorne seems a nice enough woman,” she added, almost nastily.
His moan was long and low and loud.
She expected that. There was something about Versula—it was obvious—something more than just a crush gone wrong at age eleven. Perrin had always been very quiet about his teenage years, and Mahrree suspected that was because he hadn’t exactly spent them alone.
Not that Mahrree felt any threat from Mrs. Thorne, or worried that Perrin had any lingering feelings for her—the way he gripped her shoulder and pulled her close suggested he was desperate to keep her by his side.
But when a woman purposely—sensuously, almost—drags her finger across a scar she left long ago, and says things like, “I often think about that, and wonder,” a phrase that sounds like something meant to be known by only two people, it’s a pretty good indication she’s hoping he thinks and wonders, too.
And now Mahrree was wondering as well.
When he finally stopped moaning, Perrin said, “Mahrree, Mahrree, Mahrree . . . why now? Do we really have to do this now?”