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

by Trish Mercer

  Perrin was silent for a moment before he said, “Keep me safe. Take care of my family.”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to do for the past fourteen years.”

  Perrin stared up at the roof of the barn for a few minutes. Eventually he rolled over. “Wake me in three hours, all right?”

  Shem would’ve done it, if he hadn’t fallen asleep himself. When he awoke with a start, it was because the sunrise was pouring in through the cracks of the barn and hitting him in the face. He looked in front of him and saw the impression in the straw where the colonel had been.

  “PERRIN!” he yelled as he scrambled to his feet. He rushed outside and found the two horses with Perrin adjusting the straps.

  “Just getting everything ready,” he said easily. “Thought I’d let you sleep a few more minutes. Trust me, all right?”

  “I’m trying to,” said Shem, leaning against the barn wall and massaging his eyes.

  “It’s less than an hour to the Administrators’ Headquarters from here. Are you still ready?”

  “Yes, I’m ready.”

  “Good. Now Shem,” Perrin said as he climbed onto his horse, “when we’re there, that’s when you should stop trusting me.”

  “I’m ready for that, too.

  Chapter 23 ~ “Once she even caught a falcon.”

  Mahrree woke up with a start, immediately recalling every horrible moment that had transpired the endless night before.

  She looked around, a bit disoriented, before remembering she was on the sofa. Jaytsy was curled up on one side and Peto was on the other. Their faces were still blotchy from weeping. At what time they finally succumbed to the brief respite sleep offered, she didn’t know. But all the pain was back again, in full pounding force.

  She sighed and slouched back on the sofa. Through Peto’s open door she spied Major Karna asleep on Peto’s bed, with his sword on the floor and at the ready. Mahrree remembered her mother had gone to Jaytsy’s bed to lie down in the middle of the night.

  She looked over to see Jaytsy’s door open, but heard a soft shuffling in the kitchen behind her. For a moment, Mahrree’s heart leaped in hope, until she identified the sounds as her mother trying quietly to cook breakfast.

  Mahrree rubbed her temples with her fingers and muttered the same prayer she’d been saying all night. “Please, dear Creator—help Shem find Perrin. Let them both come home safely. And please, somehow, help our hearts heal.”

  ---

  “Where is he?” Mal demanded as Brisack came into his office.

  “Someone just spotted him coming to the Administration Building. But there won’t be any time to interrogate him before the meeting.” Brisack sat heavily in a chair. “But don’t worry—I have three men that will be waiting at his office, and four more to tail him should he leave to go elsewhere. We’ll pin down Gadiman and find out what else he’s ordered.”

  Mal shook his head. “Unbelievable,” he whispered and glanced quickly around his large office. Since they weren’t in his library—the unexpected events of the past day and night hadn’t allowed for any private meetings—Nicko Mal felt just a little anxious. Never did they discuss such matters outside the privacy of the former throne room, but the urgency of the crisis meant they had to figure out something, and fast. “I can’t believe the weasel finally pulled it off.”

  “About twelve or thirteen years too late,” Brisack murmured back. “But he did it. Relf and Joriana Shin are dead. I saw their bodies myself and still it’s . . . unbelievable. That’s the only word.” He shook his head, still numb and incredulous. “So, given any thought as to who will replace Shin?”

  “There’s only one choice,” Mal whispered, also immensely distracted. “The only one with the access and connections we need right now.”

  Brisack nodded once. “And his assistant?”

  “Also already chosen. He’ll be the highest man we’ll ever have had placed. Great potential, now.”

  “Potential to do what, though?” Brisack sighed and gestured lamely. “Who’s left to challenge?”

  Mal’s eyebrows went up. “Who’s left? You seriously asked that? Perrin’s left! You think he’s just going to roll over and accept this? He might even come for the burial.”

  Brisack shook his head. “Surely not. Perrin will be on his knees, ruined. Slag!” the good doctor swore and stared out a window filling with early light. “I wanted to be the one who did it! I wanted to crush him, but that stupid weasel beat me to it.”

  “What did you have planned?” Mal asked with a hint of a smile.

  “Nothing firm,” his companion admitted. “But I had several options.”

  “Keep those options, Doctor. Perrin won’t crumble that easily. Just watch. He’ll be here, in grand fashion like a raging bear, and certainly not on his knees.”

  Brisack folded his arms. “Then I speculate against you. Perrin’s a sobbing mess somewhere, broken.”

  “Remember, he has ways of surprising us.”

  “No,” Brisack said, “he always has a way of surprising you.”

  “Have you already forgotten how much he surprised you while he was here? But don’t worry, my good doctor; you’ll still get your opportunity. Trust me.”

  ---

  Instead of appreciating the massive buildings, houses, and shops of Idumea, Shem kept glancing over at Perrin, trying to read his face. He was very practiced at it, and what he saw there wrenched his heart.

  Perrin regarded everything as if it were betraying him. All the snow was melted in Idumea, revealing vibrant green grasses and an almost obscene amount of flowers; life, bursting out everywhere. But all there was in Perrin’s eyes was death and pain as even Nature seemed to mock him.

  As he rode, Shem looked furtively around at the people dressed in fashions and finery far more ridiculous than anything in Edge, and noticed they were all staring back at him, alarmed. He glanced down and saw for the first time how much muck, straw, and dried blood dirtied his uniform.

  Perrin was just as deplorable, but on him it worked, making him all the more terrifying.

  “Which route do you usually take through the city?” Perrin asked as they turned down another road. The horses were slowed to maneuver around a tipped wagon and the carriages stalled behind it.

  “I don’t. My first time here,” Shem confessed.

  “But you grew up south of here. You go home every year.”

  “But I always avoid Idumea,” Shem explained. “My father made me promise never to come here, so I take the long way around.”

  That was one of his conditions Papa had required before he agreed to sign Shem’s form verifying he was of age to join the army. “Don’t ever go to Idumea. You know how I feel about that place.”

  When Shem was twenty years old he never intended to break that promise.

  Actually, until last night he never intended to break that promise. He felt dishonest about letting down his father, but it was for a good reason.

  Not like it was the first time he’d ever been dishonest, or betrayed anyone. Certainly wasn’t going to be the last—

  Perrin nodded once. “My apologies to Mr. Zenos for making his boy break his promise.”

  “He’ll get over it,” Shem said, “but I see why he hates the place. It’s so crowded I wished I could fly out of here.”

  As the horses made their way past the wreckage in the road, Perrin leaned over to Shem. “Then let’s get this over with and get out of here.”

  He kicked his heels into his horse and Shem joined him, galloping toward the Administrators’ Headquarters.

  People scattered out of the way as the two filthy men rode through the crowds. They stopped abruptly at the white steps of the large orange and red stone building, slid off their horses, and handed the reins to a startled page at the hitching post.

  Perrin looked up at the white steps and drew his sword. A woman nearby screamed, but he ignored her as he marched up to the doors.

  Shem reluctantly drew his sword as
well, received another scream for his effort, and followed Perrin.

  The pages at the doors glanced uneasily at each other. The usual crowd traveling the stairs parted quickly with cries of surprise as the colonel and the sergeant took the steps two at a time. Colonel Shin scowled at the two young pages, and immediately they pushed open the doors and stepped out of the way.

  More gasps and shouts greeted them as Perrin marched unimpeded through the large and polished hallway and down to the right, Shem on his heels. He prayed he didn’t have to use his weapons today, because there was only one person on whom he would, if necessary.

  Scattering like turkeys before a farmer with a hatchet, Idumeans made plenty of room for Colonel Shin to blaze straight to the waiting area of the Conference Room. He didn’t even hesitate when he saw the closed doors.

  Shem glanced over to the recording desk where two men in short red jackets sat. One of the men raised his brow in astonishment as he caught Shem’s eye.

  Shem did his best to quickly communicate there was about to be a bit of a problem. The other man in red leaped to his feet to protest.

  “Sir, you don’t have an—” was all he got out before Colonel Shin kicked open the doors and startled the entire body of the Administrators.

  “Good,” Shin said as he barged into the room and stepped up to the table. “You’re all here.”

  Half of the Administrators scrambled to stand up.

  Master Sergeant Zenos, who followed Shin, promptly closed the doors behind him and latched them. A tumbling noise on the other side of the doors suggested several men crashed into them: the Administrative Headquarters guards, arriving just a moment too late. There was muffled shouting behind Shem, calling for the guards to find another way in.

  “What’s the meaning of this?!” cried an administrator.

  “That’s what I came to find out!” Colonel Shin told him. He looked at each of the men in the room and paused when he saw the unanticipated faces of a general and another colonel standing behind the Chairman. “Cush. Thorne.”

  The officers nodded once back.

  Shem swallowed and stared straight ahead across the immense table, surprised to find himself facing the most powerful man in the world. At least, Mal thought he was.

  Perrin’s gaze also shifted to Chairman Mal and he threw his sword on the polished table. Its clattering echoed in the tall room. “It stays right there, until I get some answers,” Shin explained. “If I don’t hear the truth, I get to use it.”

  The Chairman hid his surprise well, Shem thought. His relaxed-and-in-control demeanor had vanished as soon as the colonel stormed through the door, and now he leaned forward on the table, his hands clasped so tightly together that his knuckles were white.

  The Administrators that were still standing nervously sat back down, as if worried they presented too easy a target.

  Mal glanced over momentarily to the man who was the Administrator of Family Life, according to the gold and wood plaque in front of him. Then Mal shifted his gaze past the colonel to Shem. “Master Sergeant, your sword?”

  “Is to defend you, sir,” Shem announced, grateful that his voice was so steady, “and the other Administrators. In case the colonel forgets his promise.”

  The Chairman nodded once and Shem thought he suddenly seemed paler.

  “What happened?” Colonel Shin demanded. “All that wretched little message said was that the house was invaded and they were killed. That’s all you could spare for the High General and his wife? No more ink than that?”

  General Cush lumbered hastily around the table. “Perrin, Perrin! We sent another message, just an hour later, with much more information. The first message was brief because we thought you should know immediately. It’s terrible news, no matter what. I’m so very sorry.” He reached Perrin and tried to put a hand on his shoulder.

  But Colonel Shin shrugged it off. “Where were the soldiers?” he asked the room. “How many Guarders? Were they the same that attacked our caravan?”

  That last question made all of the Administrators change positions. Some sat up, some slunk down in their chairs, and others leaned forward.

  “We have yet to finish discussing the issue of your caravan,” Chairman Mal said coolly.

  “You mean the theft!” a man snapped. Shem could just make out the title on the wooden plaque in front of him. Administrator of Loyalty.

  “You mean the rescue effort!” countered the Administrator of Security. “Which has brought messages of praise from several villages.”

  “A brilliant public relations move, if I do say so myself,” added the Administrator of Culture.

  “But a serious violation!” argued another.

  The Chairman stood up.

  Judging by the stunned looks on the other men’s faces, he never did that. “This discussion will continue another time,” he said loudly.

  “Where were the guards, Nicko?” Colonel Shin demanded.

  Colonel Thorne came up to the table. “Riplak was, we believe, in the house, and the other four normally stationed around the mansion were there as well,” he reported tonelessly. “Three were killed. One—a corporal—was critically injured. Riplak’s missing.”

  Shin squinted. “Missing?”

  “Found his jacket.”

  “Where?”

  Thorne hesitated for the briefest of moments. “In the cook’s bedroom.”

  Shin squinted more severely, as if he could see it all if he focused hard enough.

  “No one’s seen him since the night before,” said Thorne in a slightly bored tone. “The grounds were thoroughly searched. The cook was seriously injured as well. She’s at the garrison hospital being tended to.”

  Cush tried to take Perrin’s arm again, but he flinched at his touch. “Perrin, your parents are there, too. Burial’s not scheduled until this evening. Let me take you there.”

  “How’d they get in?” a furious Colonel Shin asked Thorne. “Busy roads, crowded neighborhoods all the way there, and no one saw them? How is that?”

  Thorne matched his cold gaze. “They came in the early hours, maybe up to eight of them. From what we can tell they weren’t dressed in their version of uniforms. They looked like farmers. Nothing suspicious about that, is there?”

  “In the early morning hours?” Shin challenged.

  “Dairy farmers!” Thorne shouted.

  “Who saw them? How do you know?”

  “The cook gave the description. Ask her yourself!”

  “Four Guarders were also captured and brought to Pools,” Shin bellowed at Thorne. “I was told you brought them to the garrison. So what have you learned?”

  “Nothing.” Thorne matched Shin’s glare and raised it by several degrees.

  “And why not?”

  “Because they’re dead!”

  Shin threw his hands in the air, ignoring the stunned expressions exchanged between the Administrators. “Oh, now that’s convenient. Come on, Thorne—don’t you know how to deal with Guarders? You’re supposed to check them all over for blades. Didn’t they teach you that in Command School?”

  Thorne’s glare was so severe that Shem felt it cutting straight through Perrin and into his own flesh. It was a good thing there was a large table between the two colonels.

  That’s when Shem realized he hadn’t taken all of Perrin’s blades, either. While his sword was on the table, he didn’t know where Perrin’s long knife was. Not on his hip, Shem was reasonably sure, but probably in his boot. As long as Perrin didn’t suddenly bend down—

  Shem gulped in dread over his own carelessness.

  “I took all their blades personally, Shin,” Thorne seethed. “It seems they had a friend who was rather disappointed they allowed themselves to be captured. Sometime during the last evening he entered the garrison prison and killed each one of them.”

  Several of the Administrators gasped at the news, but Colonel Shin just slowly shook his head. “What a surprise. How’d you let that happen, Thorne?” He
ignored the colonel’s growing sneer. “Thousands of soldiers, and no one notices a Guarder coming in to destroy his associates?”

  “Guarders live among us, Colonel,” Thorne said in a dangerous tone, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “That’s quite obvious now. It’s very difficult to know who to trust.”

  Shin matched his sneer. “Oh, it most certainly is!”

  “Boys, boys!” General Cush said loudly, as if merely breaking up a tussle between two privates. “Everyone’s a bit on edge right now—”

  Colonel Shin leaned aggressively on the table, aiming himself at Thorne. “None of this makes sense. Why my father? My mother? Why were your guards so ineffective, Thorne? And why now?”

  “Perrin!” Cush said sternly. “We know you’re grieving, but don’t say something you’ll later regret. Come on, let me take you to the mansion—”

  “NO!” Perrin shouted, pushing Cush away. “This didn’t have to happen! I know it!”

  “Perhaps if you hadn’t left so hastily, Colonel Shin,” the Administrator of Loyalty began in such a smug manner that Shem firmed his grip on his hilt, “you would’ve been there to protect your father and mother.” His tone was like an excited mosquito buzzing around a bleeding gash, delighted to see an easy meal. “Is that what’s bothering you?”

  Shem should have anticipated it, but he didn’t.

  Colonel Shin exploded onto the table and lunged for his sword. Perhaps that was why the table was so highly polished: it proved to be nearly impossible for him to get traction on his first scrambling attempt.

  “NO!” Shem yelled and leaped on the table, tackling the flailing Perrin just as he reached his sword. Shem dropped his own weapon but pinned the colonel to the table.

  “Colonel, NO!” Zenos yelled again, wrapping his arm tightly around his throat, his knee firmly in Perrin’s back where he knew there was a growing bruise from their fight hours before.

  Colonel Shin, gasping in pain and fury, gripped his sword’s hilt and, despite Shem immobilizing him, managed to aim the tip of the blade just inches away from the Administrator of Loyalty. The terrified man, who was a nauseating shade of gray, didn’t think to push his chair away from the table and out of range.