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

by Trish Mercer

  But two blades were on Shin.

  One was Shem’s, who held Grandpy’s long knife to Perrin’s throat with his free hand while keeping him in a choke hold.

  The other blade belonged to the sword of Colonel Thorne, who now stood between two ashen Administrators and trained his point just inches away from Perrin’s temple.

  “Colonel, please!” Shem whispered into his ear. “Don’t make me do this—”

  “How dare you, Gadiman?” Perrin rasped at the Administrator with his last breaths. “Makes me wonder . . . if you didn’t . . . plan this whole thing . . . yourself—”

  “Perrin!” Shem snapped.

  Gadiman shook as if he would pass out from terror.

  Colonel Shin turned purple as the sergeant’s grip tightened. He had only seconds left as his throat gurgled—

  “Enough!” Cush cried. “Enough! Off of him! Get his sword, Master Sergeant. Perrin, come on.” The general was doing his best to push his girth between stunned two administrators to reach him. “Enough of this!”

  Shem was more than happy to obey the order to release his best friend, and had planned to choke Perrin only until he lost consciousness, which would have happened in another second or two. Gingerly he pulled the sword out of the colonel’s weakened grip and slid off the table as Perrin began to gasp for air.

  Cush had a hand on his arm, trying to drag him off the table. “Let’s go to the garrison, Perrin. You need to cool off.”

  Colonel Shin’s eyes were glazed and unfocused as he crawled off the table and let General Cush put a supporting arm around him. He was a completely different man, Shem could tell, disconnected from everything around him. It’d been too much, all of it: the news, the long ride, the lack of food and sleep. Perrin could hardly stand as he coughed to refill his lungs.

  Another Administrator jumped to his feet. “Let me come with you. I have something—”

  “No, Brisack!” the Chairman said abruptly. “Not yet!”

  The rest of the Administrators, still stunned by the outburst of Colonel Shin, now turned to look quizzically at either Brisack or Mal.

  Brisack raised an inquiring eyebrow himself.

  Mal, feeling the stares, swallowed. “I mean that . . . Doctor Brisack, I need a few words with you first, in private. Meet them at the hospital in a little while.”

  Doctor Brisack slowly sat down.

  Shem, now on the other side of Perrin with an arm around his waist to steady him, remembered the name of Doctor Brisack. He was the one Perrin and Mahrree liked. He might just be their only ally right now.

  “Thorne,” Chairman Mal turned to the colonel who still held his sword at the ready, “go with them for now.”

  “Yes, sir!” Colonel Thorne said, a little too eagerly, Shem thought.

  Thorne quickly moved around the table and unlatched the door. Several men on the other side opened it and fell back quickly as they saw the four soldiers leaving the room: one supported on each side by two others, and the fourth with his sword drawn and trained at the middle man’s neck.

  The crowds parted even more rapidly than before as the four men strode—or more precisely, three men strode while one was dragged—through the halls and to the general’s carriage waiting at the back entrance.

  Cush carefully pushed Perrin up and into the open carriage where he stared, unseeing and glassy-eyed, at the floor. Shem took the seat next to him as Cush sat across from him. Thorne had a word with the driver, and, with his sword still in hand, sat across from Shem, his focus solely on Colonel Shin.

  Shem looked nervously at General Cush, who watched Perrin with fatherly concern. Perrin now stared blankly at the scenery as it passed, not seeing any of it.

  Shem cleared his throat politely and Cush shifted his gaze to him.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” the master sergeant said. “I should’ve moved faster.” He sent a fleeting look to Colonel Thorne. “I really didn’t think he’d do that.”

  General Cush smiled at him kindly. “You did very well, Master Sergeant. I think all of us were surprised. But Perrin’s going to be all right,” he said a bit loudly, as if Perrin had gone deaf. “Aren’t you, son? Just need a little rest, a little time to think. We’ll take care of you.”

  Perrin didn’t even blink, but stared vacantly.

  Colonel Thorne turned to the sergeant. “It was an impressive move, flattening him like that. You took his breath nearly instantly.”

  Shem wasn’t sure how to take that, but the sandy-haired colonel had admiration in his cold blue eyes. “Yes, sir,” seemed to be the safest response. “Thank you.”

  Cush leaned over. “Are you by any chance Uncle Shem?”

  Shem’s eyes widened. “Uh, yes sir. Master Sergeant Shem Zenos.”

  Cush sat back and smiled. “I had a feeling. Heard a lot about you from the Shins. You’re quite the favorite, aren’t you? Ran a few races against our Perrin here? Was even the children’s baby tender when they were younger?”

  Shem searched for an appropriate response, and settled on the tried and true, “Yes, sir.”

  “The family has a lot of trust in you. So does Perrin, I see,” Cush said. “You’re a good man to have around, Master Sergeant Shem Zenos. You may have preserved a family today.”

  The carriage swayed to a halt.

  “Oh, what now?” said Thorne crossly. He turned behind him to see an Idumean jam ahead.

  “That’s all right.” Cush said. “We’re in no rush, now, are we? Gives us some time to get to know the master sergeant here, and let Perrin have some fresh air. Tell me, Uncle Shem, how long have you been in Edge?”

  “Nearly fourteen years, sir. I arrived at the same time as Peto Shin.”

  “Are you married?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Raised near Edge?”

  “No, sir. I come from between Flax and Waves. My father owns some land there.”

  “So you left home for the other side of the world, did you?” said Cush, surprised.

  “Yes, sir. I like the mountains more than I like the sea.”

  “That makes you an unusual man, then,” interjected Thorne. “Usually everyone tries to go south.”

  Shem looked Colonel Thorne in the eyes and knew what he had to say. He’d been waiting years for the opportunity. “I guess I find the north more appealing, sir.”

  Thorne and Cush both smiled at Zenos.

  After a silent moment, Thorne said, “Many of us do. Chase many Guarders, Shem Zenos?”

  “Yes, sir. More than I care to remember. Sirs, may I ask a question?”

  Cush glanced at Perrin, who still stared blankly at the road. “Of course, son.”

  “Why are Guarders now living in the city in disguise? Why change the tactics now?”

  Thorne cleared his throat slightly, and his father-in-law gave him a brief look. “Go ahead. We have time. And I’m not listening.”

  It was times like this that Shem was grateful for his training. While his ears fairly burned at General Cush’s words—and what it seemed he knew and tried to ignore—Shem kept his face completely placid as Thorne began to speak.

  “When one strategy is no longer satisfying,” Thorne said meaningfully, his gaze focused solely on Shem, “another must be employed, Master Sergeant.”

  Shem sighed. “Yes but, why? After all these years, why not make one unified attack—take out the Administrators all at once and set up their own leadership? It certainly seems possible.”

  “Yes, but is that what the Guarders want, Zenos?” Thorne said. “Control of the world?”

  Shem swallowed. “I’m afraid that right now I don’t know what the Guarders want, sirs.”

  Thorne nodded. “That’s understandable, Zenos. But I believe I can help you.”

  He sat back, checked that Shin still seemed to be lost in another world, and looked back at the sergeant. “The past several years have demonstrated that the Guarders are a very patient people, Zenos, and they think differently than most. You see, they do
n’t enjoy the victory, they enjoy the pursuit. Do you know what I mean?”

  “Yes,” Shem said slowly. “I believe I do.”

  “I believe you do too, Master Sergeant.” Thorne smiled halfway, but his blue eyes remained hard. “Did you ever own a cat, Zenos?”

  “We had a couple in the barns,” Shem shrugged, “but I never paid much attention to them.”

  “That’s too bad. Cats are highly underrated, Zenos,” Thorne said thoughtfully. “We had an excellent mouser in one of our barns when I was a boy. I would sit and watch her for hours. You see, she was an expert at pursuit and attack. She didn’t need the mice she caught—my mother kept her well-fed—but she caught prey anyway, just for the joy of it. And she always brought what she captured into the barn: moles, squirrels, even large bugs. She’d injure her prey just enough that it couldn’t escape, then she’d watch it struggle for life. She’d stay within a few feet of it, observing it trying to flee, batting it occasionally when it stopped moving. Sometimes she’d leave for a while and let the doomed creature think it could escape.”

  Thorne had a chilly smile of appreciation on his face that caused Shem to develop a twitch in his eye.

  “Then when the victim least expected it she’d come back and give it a new wound, just to keep herself entertained,” Thorne continued. “And when she tired of it, she’d pounce and kill it, just for something to do. Then she’d leave it to rot and find another victim.

  “Once she even caught a falcon. They were after the same prey, and she wounded its wing. She dragged it into the barn and taunted it with the possibility of flying away, but it had no chance. She could jump as high as its injured wing would let it rise, and if it didn’t plummet on its own, she’d smack it down. She studied and tormented that bird for days before it finally began to fail on its own through starvation. Only then did she finish it off.”

  The colonel sat back in satisfaction.

  “And that’s how Guarders see the world, Master Sergeant Zenos. They are the cats, the world is their barn, and whomever they want is their prey. Just to give them something to do.”

  “For entertainment,” Shem clarified.

  Thorne tipped his head. “And perhaps a bit of research and gold.”

  “A fascinating metaphor, Colonel,” Shem answered, hoping the colonel couldn’t see that his skin had developed goose bumps. “And a disturbingly insightful one as well.”

  Thorne smiled more broadly. “I’m glad you appreciate it.”

  Shem wasn’t about to contradict his evaluation. This was, after all, a man who as a child enjoyed watching a cat torture a falcon to death. Shem may not have known a lot about the ways of Idumea, but some things are pretty easy to figure out. You don’t disagree with some kinds of men.

  Cush leaned forward, apparently hearing the conversation again. “I wouldn’t ask his theory on women if I were you, unless you want to hear ‘fascinatingly disturbing metaphors’ about every barnyard animal that exists. Had I heard those before he married my daughter, I might have changed my mind about giving approval!” He laughed.

  Shem tried to smile at him, while Thorne gave a tired and obliging nod to his father-in-law who nudged him.

  “Ah, here we are,” Cush said as they pulled into the garrison.

  Perrin still showed no awareness of his surroundings as the carriage drove up to the hospital. But as the carriage came to a stop, Perrin slowly looked over at his friend.

  Shem shivered. He’d never seen a dead man staring at him before. He helped Perrin out of the carriage and Perrin mumbled, “I want to see my parents now.”

  “Perrin, I need to warn you,” Cush said as they assisted him, weakened and clumsy, up the steps and into the main hallway. “The attack was brutal. I’m not sure this is such a good idea, considering your state of mind.”

  The surgeon spotted them from down the hall and jogged over to greet them. “Colonel Shin,” he said extending his hand, but Perrin didn’t take it. “I’m so very sorry.” He let his hand drop. “There was nothing I could do, and I was there very quickly.”

  “I just want to see them,” Perrin whispered.

  The surgeon started to shake his head but then reluctantly nodded. He led the men, Perrin stumbling a bit, downstairs to the holding cellar. Cush and Thorne stayed outside, but Perrin grabbed Shem’s arm.

  “I don’t need you to look at them. I just want you to stay with me,” he whispered, his eyes still not focusing on anything clearly.

  Shem nodded and put a bracing arm around his waist as they followed the surgeon into the dark and cool cellar. The surgeon lit a lantern and held it before the two covered bodies. Once he gingerly pulled back the cloth covering them, Perrin needed only a moment to verify they were his parents.

  He collapsed in Shem’s grip.

  “I knew this was a bad idea,” the surgeon said as he caught Perrin’s other arm. “How much sleep has he had?”

  “Maybe two or three hours.”

  “Food?” the surgeon grunted as Perrin’s weight slowly dragged him down.

  “None that I know of, sir,” Shem said as he hefted his friend off the surgeon. “I also sort of choked him recently,” he felt he should add.

  “The man needs rest,” the surgeon decided, struggling with Shem to support Perrin between them. “I have just the thing upstairs.”

  Shem thought Perrin needed to eat and drink, and maybe be checked over by the surgeon to make sure Shem didn’t cause any lasting damage.

  The two men strained to heave him up the stairs, Perrin oblivious and half dead himself. They were followed by Cush and Thorne, who didn’t offer to help with moving the colonel, Shem noted with some irritation. The senior officers posted themselves at the door of the first unoccupied room they found, while Shem and the surgeon laid Perrin down on one of two narrow beds. The surgeon left to speak to his aids while Shem sat helplessly next to his friend.

  Perrin just stared blankly at some indistinct spot above the open doorway where the Cush and Thorne stood on guard. It seemed to Shem that only one of them looked concerned. The other kept a finger twitching on the hilt of his sheathed sword.

  The surgeon returned soon with his aids and the officers stepped out of his way to let them in. In the surgeon’s gloved hands he held a small brown bottle and a thick cloth.

  “Colonel Shin,” he said louder than necessary as he doused the cloth with the something from the bottle, “I want you to breathe this.”

  Perrin put a hand awkwardly in front of his face.

  Cush and Thorne were now joined at the door by Doctor Brisack. He was slightly winded, having rushed over from the Administrators’ Headquarters. Brisack, seeing what was in the surgeon’s hands, pushed between the two officers and crouched in front of Shin.

  “Colonel, this will help. Trust me,” he said.

  “No,” Perrin said listlessly. “Just leave me alone.”

  The doctors exchanged looks.

  “Colonel Shin,” Brisack said more forcefully. “You will breathe this.”

  “Don’t make him,” Shem held up his hands. “I’ll take care of him. Just bring him something to eat—”

  “He’s not in his right mind, Master Sergeant,” Brisack cut him off. “This will help get him there.” Brisack turned again to his unwilling patient. “You’ll feel nothing, Colonel Shin.”

  Perrin sat up abruptly, forcing Shem off the bed and onto the floor. “I already feel nothing, Doctor!” he yelled. “I want to feel better!”

  The garrison surgeon motioned to the two aids. They promptly stepped over to the colonel, pushing Shem aside.

  “What are you doing?” Shem cried, scrambling to his feet.

  The two aids grabbed Perrin’s shoulders and forced him down while Doctor Brisack threw himself on to Perrin’s thrashing legs. The surgeon shoved the cloth onto his face.

  “Stop it!” Shem lunged for the surgeon.

  But Thorne was faster. He caught Shem’s arm and yanked him back. “It’s all right, Zenos.
It will help. I’ve seen it work before.”

  Perrin gagged and choked and flailed for what seemed like five minutes, but Shem, feeling helpless in the firm grip of Colonel Thorne, knew it was much shorter than that.

  Finally Perrin went completely still, and the doctors smiled at each other in triumph.

  “What did you do to him?” Shem cried, staring at his lifeless friend.

  “Put him to sleep!” Doctor Brisack said proudly, brushing off his red jacket and straightening his white ruffles. “Fantastically beneficial concoction. We’ve been experimenting with sulfur, acids, gases—”

  “And requiring new workrooms when those experiments go awry,” Colonel Thorne interrupted in a loud aside to General Cush.

  Brisack scowled at him before turning back to Shem. “It’s still in the testing stage, and we’re working on the potency to get it consistent, but it’s quite harmless.” He sent another withering glare at Thorne, who didn’t even blink. “Perrin will wake up feeling like a new man.” Brisack turned to one of the aids. “Keep administering as needed for the next six hours.”

  “I was thinking eight,” said the surgeon who was already handing the bottle and cloth to an aide.

  Brisack shook his head. “We don’t want him groggy for the burial.”

  The surgeon nodded and motioned to the aide to follow the orders.

  “But he didn’t want it!” Shem said miserably, watching Perrin’s very still chest. “Are you sure he’s all right?”

  The surgeon checked Perrin’s pulse and smiled. “Strong and steady, just very slow. We call it sedation.”

  “It’s all right, Master Sergeant. Really,” said Doctor Brisack, patting his shoulder. “I used some of it just yesterday on a young boy who got in the way of an agitated bull. Poor little thing had a broken leg and a broken arm. Gave him some sedation and he slept right through the most agonizing pain of setting his bones. He woke up later in splints and in much better spirits.”

  “But you forced it on him!” Shem tried again, knowing his protests were useless, but feeling as if he should point that out. What Perrin wanted, no one cared about. What was best for him, no one even discussed. All they wanted was for him to be quiet and out of the way.