by Trish Mercer
Perrin’s brows furrowed at that reference to the future High General, but he said only, “Be careful on the way home, all right, Lieutenant? My father would be disappointed if anything happened to you.”
“Yes, sir. My life’s purpose is to attend to the High General, sir.”
---
“Think we’re finally back to the same old routine?” Mahrree asked Perrin in the dark of their bedroom late that night.
Perrin snored back.
Mahrree laughed softly and sank into the new sheets. They were cotton and nubby and perfect.
Even though poor Hycymum had nearly hyperventilated to hear that even her grandchildren had slept in silk sheets—and lived for two weeks in a mansion in Idumea—Mahrree wouldn’t have wanted anything else but a plaid bedroom.
That night she dreamed again of a gray, wooden-planked house, filled with children and laughter, but without a stitch of silk in it anywhere.
---
Two men sat in the dark office of an unlit building.
Neither of them spoke for several minutes, still trying to absorb it all.
“And still he succeeded.” It was Brisack. He breathed the words partly in awe, partly in rage. “How the slag did he pull that off?”
The only thing to drag Nicko Mal out of his stunned reverie was to hear the good doctor using such profanity. While slag was the refuse of smelted metals, it also referred to the filthiest elements of society, worthy only of being cast off. A refined doctor wouldn’t use such language unless—
“You’re angry about this?”
“Of course I’m angry!” Brisack snapped. “We had an arrangement! Then we revised that arrangement, and still he went off and did precisely what he wanted!”
As furious as Mal was about the loss of the reserves—the Shins were now nothing more than thieving rogue Guarders in his mind—he was more fascinated that Perrin’s biggest admirer was turning on him. “You’re taking this personally, aren’t you?”
Brisack’s hand clenched into a fist. “With provisions, I told him. Provided he’d create a complete report of the conditions in Edge. Provided he’d give me a week to work on the Administrators. Provided he’d allow me to oversee the loading of the wagons! But what did he do? After all these years of defending him, preserving him, speculating for him, he just, just, just—”
Nicko Mal couldn’t help but smile as Brisack frothed.
“—just, did what he wanted! What an infuriating son of a sow!”
Mal burst into a grin. Observing the breakdown of Dr. Brisack was the greatest entertainment he’d had in years. Two profanities in two minutes? The Shins’ betrayal was nearly worth it to witness this.
Nearly.
“Finally you believe me, don’t you my dear Doctor? Now you see why I’ve always thought of Perrin Shin as one of the most aggravating, annoying—”
“Dangerous!” Brisack added.
Mal nodded. “—dangerous men in the world. And now Relf has just joined that little club.”
Brisack exhaled. “Now that was unexpected! He wrote the message, he released the stores, he commanded the soldiers—next he’ll be saying all of it was his fault, just to protect that insubordinate brat of his!”
“Most likely,” Mal agreed, still torn between fury and fascination. “The Administrators will all be in session tomorrow morning. Emergency meeting. We’ll decide then how to handle this.”
Brisack scoffed. “Handle this? We can’t handle this. We have to go along with it! Think about it: the world will think Edge was saved by the garrison and Administrators. If we expose the deceit of the Shins and say they acted without permission, we come off as the enemy. They had to take it because the Administrators wouldn’t release it! We have to support this if we want to keep any semblance of order.”
“Yes, we do,” Mal said easily. “We can come off looking quite good, if we handle this properly. That’s what I meant, my good doctor.”
“And so then what happens to the Shins?” Brisack seethed. “Patted on the back?”
“Given another meaningless certificate for services to the world?” Mal suggested with a tone of accusation.
Brisack huffed and looked down at his hands.
“What do you think of her?” Mal probed.
Brisack sighed. “I still can’t figure out Mahrree Shin. At The Dinner she was brave in her timidity and confident despite her insecurity. Wished I knew what part she played in all of this.”
“May have been a very big part, Doctor.”
Brisack shook his head. “He has to be punished,” he insisted, ignoring the question of Mahrree Shin. “He can’t get away with this. With such blatant—You realize what it is, don’t you?” He looked up, his eyes nearly ablaze. “Exactly what I warned you about! He’s more loyal to his Creator than he is to us. You wondered what he could do? This! Raid from the garrison, steal the wagons, make up lies all the way to Edge, and convince his father to join him in the deception. And if you were to ask Perrin Shin why, I’ll bet you all the gold in my coffer he’d say he felt a duty to his Creator to do this! She said it—she said it at The Dinner!” he suddenly remembered. “She said she doubted Edgers knew just how much he loved them. Loved them enough to destroy himself and his career!”
Mal raised a surprised eyebrow. “So what’s next?”
“Exactly what I wonder! And fear!” Brisack barked. “What will he do next?”
“No,” Mal said, “what do we do next? How do we prove to him his devotion should be to us, not some imaginary friend?”
Brisack thought about it for a moment, his breathing becoming more rapid the angrier he became. “We prove who’s more powerful,” he finally decided. “Years ago you wanted Perrin Shin brought to his knees, remember? In the name of his Creator, I will bring him down!”
“Or you’ll die trying?” said Mal, just as icily.
“Yes!” Brisack exclaimed without hesitation.
Nicko Mal clasped his hands in front of him. “Now, that’s more like it.”
Chapter 21 ~ “What we did would be known by now, wouldn’t it?”
Even though the next morning was Holy Day again, marking three weeks since the land tremor, Mahrree knew there’d be no congregational meeting. There was still too much work to do.
But that didn’t stop her from studying. She sat at the table and sighed with pleasure at her library. There were far fewer books than in the mansion’s study, and they weren’t bound as beautifully, but she the loved the ragged edges of the pages that were too cheap to be cut to perfection. Somehow they felt more real.
Yesterday she had the impression as if their family had been, in the words of Jaytsy, away for a lifetime. Yet this morning the last couple of weeks were almost a dream. She opened The Writings to study before waking her family to eat the last of the leftovers from Idumea. Then they’d be on bread and chewy apple bits, supplemented with strips of jerky twice a week like everyone else, unless more deer could be found in the forest and roasted in her backyard. Perrin was already planning to spend an hour with Peto fishing in the river for dinner, and not just for fun, he told his wife. But Mahrree suspected fun would be had anyway. At least, she hoped so.
As she thumbed through the pages, she knew exactly what she wanted to read: the warnings of the first and great guide, Hierum.
Before the Last Day will be a land tremor more powerful than any ever experienced. It will awaken the largest mountain and change all that we know in the world. Those changes will bring famine, death, and desperation to the world. And that desperation will cause the world’s army to seek to destroy the faithful of the Creator.
Mahrree stared at the passage, amazed how once again words she’d read dozens of times suddenly jumped out and throttled her. Why’d she never notice that list before? There it was, plain as day, but she had always skimmed over it.
First was a land tremor. For some reason her mind always jumped to “awaken the largest mountain,” and ignored the earlier words. Their recent t
remor was big, but Shem had said his father between Flax and Waves felt only a mild jiggling. This tremor clearly wasn’t a prologue to the Last Day. But maybe it was a warning.
Second on the list was the awakening of Mt. Deceit. No one knew quite how to interpret that, and even the smoke that rose from it three weeks ago had quieted in the past days, so she decided that they were safe for a while.
Next was famine, death, and desperation. Mahrree could see all too easily how that could come to pass. Villages low on reserves, thieves looting for food, and just one late snowfall could doom an entire civilization, driving it to desperation. She made a mental note to discuss with Perrin ways that they could avoid being caught unprepared in the future.
Then came the sentence that always pricked her, and did so again.
And that desperation will cause the world’s army to seek to destroy the faithful of the Creator.
There were only two armies: one organized and one Guarder. The question of who was considered “the faithful” also always worried her. Surely everyone felt faithful to someone or something, but how could you be sure you were faithful to the correct one or thing?
She looked again at the phrase that gnawed at her.
On that day do not be one of those surprised to find yourself on the wrong side.
What could be the ‘wrong side’? For years she’d tried to understand that, but figured out only this: the way to be surprised was if she was sure she was on the right side, only to find out that instead she was confused, or stubborn, or simply missed—or worse, ignored—the promptings to get to another side.
But where could that other side be?
Perrin’s lumbering down the stairs in his frumpled nightshirt startled her out of her thoughts. They’d reached a dead-end anyway.
He rubbed his eyes and tried to focus. “What are you doing? How late is it?”
“I’m reading, and it’s still early,” she assured him. “I just wanted to feel some normalcy again.”
He nodded wearily and plodded into the kitchen. A moment later she heard him call, “Mahrree, it’s Holy Day again, right?”
“Yes. Why?”
“That would explain the installation of a third spit in our back garden. By the shape of him I’d say it looks like Arky and his neighbors. They’re setting up two half-starved deer and . . . if I had to guess, that other animal that looks like a large dog might instead be a sheep or maybe a small boar.”
Mahrree chuckled. “And that, Joriana,” she said to herself, “is how we host dinners in Edge: bring your own boar.”
Perrin’s voice came louder, addressing the men in the back garden through the window. “No, no, no, that’s quite all right. That part of the garden seemed to be lacking for something interesting anyway. Yes, yes—it’s good to be back.”
He stumbled back to the eating room and plopped down at the table. “It seems we can’t avoid these. We’re hosting the after-congregation-without-meeting-for-congregation meal again, aren’t we?”
Mahrree grinned. “I certainly hope so. Ah, I missed Edge!”
“As long as there’s no dancing.” Perrin yawned.
---
Perrin sent a message to Idumea that morning as soon as he reached the fort.
Arrived safely except for trouble near Pools.
Snyd is investigating.
People of Edge are eternally grateful to the Administrators
for their generosity, and pledge undying loyalty.
There was nothing else he could do; it was all out of his hands now.
The rest of that day was spent as the others had been. Perrin went to survey the village and set a few soldiers to fishing the river, while Mahrree, Jaytsy and Peto got on their worst clothes and headed to the first pile they could find. They cleaned up rubble, lugged debris to the river to shore up the banks for those rare years the river flooded, and dragged small timbers taken from the safest edges of the forest to the sawmill.
“It’s almost as if nothing’s changed,” Jaytsy said as the family trudged home to prepare dinner with several women who were already making biscuits and chatting in the back garden. “Finish with one house, there are another five more to do. And we even had a break for a couple of weeks!”
“Remember Major Karna’s estimates? He thinks in one more moon everything will be finished,” Mahrree told her. “We have to stop focusing on what still needs to be done and feel satisfaction in what’s already been completed. It is getting better, Jayts. Sometimes it’s just hard to see it.”
“I suppose so.” Then she laughed softly. “Did you see those women with Grandmother’s dresses? I was afraid some of them would start changing right there in front of everyone! Mrs. Dede went from torn rags to linens in under a minute. She’ll be the most stylish weaver’s wife ever. I think Grandmother would be pleased.” Then, more quietly, she added, “What we did would be known by now, wouldn’t it?”
Peto looked nervously at Mahrree.
“Yes,” Mahrree said slowly. “But the Administrators don’t return to meetings until tomorrow. We shouldn’t expect any news from Idumea until tomorrow evening at the earliest. No news would be best, remember?”
---
Two men sat in the dark office of an unlit building.
“Well,” Brisack huffed, “that was the most unproductive meeting we’ve ever had! And that’s saying something, considering how many unproductive sessions we’ve had to endure.”
Mal snickered. His partner’s frustration had been the one bright spot of the entire situation. “It’s probably because we called everyone back early from their holidays. Couldn’t even come to any consensus about who was responsible. And I thought it quite convenient that Relf was feeling too weakened to come to our inquiry.”
“Weakened indeed!” the good doctor sneered.
“Gadiman’s up to something,” Mal said, clasping his hands in front of him. “He refused to meet with me this morning, he wouldn’t make eye contact at the meeting, and as soon as we dispersed for the afternoon, he vanished. Any idea where to?”
Brisack shook his head. “I was going to have him followed, then I got caught up in something else and the weasel had already disappeared.”
Mal nodded once. “We need to track him down. He’s likely avoiding us because he’s embarrassed about the failure to stop the caravan. Once again, his lack of preparation has led to a disappointing conclusion.”
“I’m beginning to get tired of these,” stewed the good doctor.
“I have been for years. So now what?”
“Working on it,” Brisack muttered.
---
They’ll think it was a failure, Gadiman chuckled mirthlessly to himself. He was headed into the dark fog, unsure of where he was going, but confident he’d find his way—and his contact, who had just returned to Idumea—eventually.
Well, he had to admit to himself that in a way, it was a failure. Not exactly what he expected. He thought at least a few wagons would be destroyed—
But never mind. It was only Part One to his plan.
The next part would surely succeed. He’d had years to plan this, to mull over what went wrong the first time, to make sure this one was foolproof.
And then—then—after all these years, there’d be sweet vindication.
---
Early the next morning Perrin and Mahrree went down into their narrow cellar, dug out of the soil next to the boulder that served as their house’s foundation. Mahrree went to the shelves set up against the earthen wall and began to remove empty jugs, saved to be filled with juices in Harvest.
But Perrin hesitated. “You’re sure you’re all right with this?”
“Of course,” she said, not pausing in her work. “It’s the most logical thing. It should be done. It’s useless hiding down here.”
Perrin helped her take down the last of the jugs, and Mahrree stepped back as he removed the middle shelf and pried off the planks that served as backing boards. Behind them, dug into the earthen w
all, was a crate on its side framing piles of silver and gold slips.
“Well, no one’s found it,” said Perrin.
“Who would think that in a cellar, behind a storage shelf, and entombed in dirt, is a treasure?” Mahrree reminded him.
Perrin just smiled at the thought.
She folded her arms. “Exactly how did you get the idea for creating this hiding place, anyway?”
He only winked at her and began to pull out the heavy stacks of metal. Mahrree took them from him and laid them out on the dark floor, counting. When Perrin had emptied their savings, Mahrree finished her counting and looked up at him.
“I fear it’s not going to be enough. While we have the equivalent of 180 full slips of gold—and if Jaytsy and Peto heard that, they’d definitely declare us to be rich—that’s probably only one-third of what everyone would expect to be paid.”
Perrin rubbed his chin. “Coupled with what we can salvage from the homes of the dead, it may be closer to one-half. And I was thinking of giving only half of my colonel’s bonus to Brillen—he’ll be overwhelmed with thirty full gold slips anyway—and donate the other half to this. If everyone realizes this is all they’ll get, they’ll be satisfied with it.”
Mahrree sighed. “I hope you’re right. I should have brought back my silk dress. Surely someone would’ve bought it and we could have added that silver to the pile.”
She tried to lift up a large clump but strained, forgetting the weight of it all. “And how, exactly, are you going to get all of this to the fort?”