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

by Trish Mercer

  Mal made a thrusting motion, but sighed in disappointment.

  “Ah, well. I guess we have to give Gadiman a little credit. I thought you were going to bring him tonight?”

  “Couldn’t find him again.” Brisack held up his hands. “I thought perhaps he’d gone out to celebrate, but that’s not his style. Maybe he’s out looking for a blacksmith that can make him a shield he can wear under his shirts. I’ll tell you,” the doctor began to chuckle, “I have never, never, seen a man go so gray without passing out!”

  The two men laughed.

  “We should have brought mead tonight,” Mal sighed as he wiped tears from his eyes. “Or ale to celebrate. This was easy and brilliant. And there was something else we were lucky enough to observe first hand. Or rather, someone we were allowed to meet.” He looked at his companion meaningfully.

  Brisack pointed at him. “That’s what I thought too. When I saw him execute the suffocation technique on the table, it suddenly hit me—it was him!”

  Mal nodded. “After all these years, I thought he was gone or even dead. But no—our Quiet Man is alive and very well.”

  Brisack leaned forward in his chair. “So we have confirmation?”

  “Revealed himself to Thorne in the carriage on the way to the hospital. He said he ‘always found the north appealing.’ He was the baby tender, after all! Stunning.” Mal looked up at the ceiling. “Oh, if only I could get him alone for five minutes, just to know what he knows—”

  “You can,” Brisack pointed out. “Who can turn down an invitation from you?”

  “It’s too risky,” Mal shook his head. “I’ve already contemplated several scenarios, but whatever he does while he’s here, Perrin will know about. Then fourteen years of our Quiet Man’s work will be gone. No, I’ll find another way to reach him.”

  “‘I find the north appealing,’” Brisack muttered. “Haven’t heard that one in years. Nearly forgot about it. But he didn’t. I guess it’s not surprising he doesn’t know the later codes, since he hasn’t left Edge for many years.”

  “He said he was from between Flax and Waves,” Mal told him.

  The doctor shook his head. “I doubt that. I spoke with him in the hospital. His demeanor and speech are nothing like those from the southern edge of the world. Then again, he has been in the north for quite some time.”

  “Extraordinarily close to the family,” said Mal, a bit awe-struck. “Did you hear him call Shin by his first name when he was choking him nearly to death? Never have I heard an enlisted man call an officer by his first name, not even out of uniform.”

  “I noticed that as well,” Brisack nodded in concern. “That could signal a problem.”

  Mal scoffed. “That Perrin’s closest man is also one of our closest men?”

  “But is he still?” the doctor pressed. “Nicko, what if the Quiet Man has bonded to Shin? What if he has a skewed sense-of-duty problem just like his commanding officer? If he’s forgotten he’s loyal to us, then . . .” Brisack shrugged. “He was extremely concerned about Shin’s treatment at the hospital.”

  “Worried that you might be eliminating him?”

  “That’s what you thought I’d do, isn’t it?” the doctor accused. “When you didn’t want me to go with them to the hospital?”

  Mal shrugged.

  Brisack shook his head. “Nicko, you know I’d never do that! I still respect the man. Perrin completely fascinates me, now more than ever. I certainly don’t want to eliminate the most fruitful research project we’ve ever encountered. I really was just intending to sedate him.”

  “Of course you were,” Mal smiled thinly. He pursed his lips in thought. “Qayin told me he got the impression the master sergeant is tiring. He was questioning the methods. He seemed to accept Qayin’s coded explanation that the testing is the point, but still . . .”

  “But still, fourteen years is a very long time,” Brisack finished his sentence.

  The two men pondered the question of the master sergeant for a few minutes.

  “Perhaps,” Brisack eventually began, “perhaps Zenos’s attention to the colonel was an effort to make sure the colonel remains in the game for us. He has no idea who I am, but he apparently knows who Thorne is. He was quite adamant about our not administering the sedation, but when Thorne pulled him back, he seemed to accept the decision. Would a man who’s switched sides bother to ‘check in’ with Thorne, and then listen to his advice?”

  Mal considered that. “A traitor would avoid those he betrayed at all costs, so that they wouldn’t be able to see the deceit in his eyes. Qayin was impressed with him, and Qayin’s never impressed with anyone.”

  Brisack nodded once. “So the Quiet Man is still our man.”

  Mal nodded back. “I’m going to assume so. He just doesn’t know what to do, is all.”

  “We’ll devise something for him to do. In the meantime,” the good doctor said, massaging his hands, “you realize we can’t just let this go. The caravan was one thing, but barging in here and threatening to kill the Administrator of Loyalty? That’s just a little tough to ignore, Nicko.”

  “Agreed,” said the Chairman. “Now tell me, my dear doctor: for how long can a man remain on his knees in a pit?”

  Brisack shrugged. “I really don’t know. That’s never been tes—” He stopped. “Oh, Nicko—brilliant. That’s never been tested!”

  “We can drag this out for a very long time, my dear doctor. We can pick at his heart like a scab. Just when it’s starting to heal over, we can peel it off and expose the wound yet again, watch it fester. I’ve already decided that there will be some major changes to his fort. Perrin must remain in Edge for the time being. There were too many in Idumea who fell under his influence. Several reports came back to me as to how ‘impressive’ he was. If he remains here, in some other capacity, he may become too confident. The time’s not right for him just yet. Besides, now he’s everyone’s favorite pathetic orphan, so sending him back to his favorite village will be seen as an act of mercy. But it won’t be. Our colonel will lose all who are close to him, except for our Quiet Man. We’ll need him for the next steps.”

  “And is Qayin’s request going to be honored?”

  “Might as well. His little scruff needs a posting somewhere. In time, he may even find the north appealing.”

  “Excellent,” Brisack agreed. “And then?”

  “We’ll just see how long that festers, then . . . I hope you’re ready for this: Perrin faces more loss.”

  Brisack’s smile dimmed. “What kind of losses?”

  “Spread out over time, I assure you. But don’t worry, my dear doctor; we’ll let Mahrree Shin survive for as long as we can. Her death will be the biggest blow of all. After he’s lost his officers, his children—one at a time, mind you, and that’s how the Quiet Man will demonstrate his devotion to us—the last thing he’ll be able to bear will be losing her. Tell me, Doctor—can a man die of a broken heart?”

  “Again, Nicko,” said Brisack with unusually severe resolve, “that’s never been tested. But it will. He will come to realize that we are far more powerful than his Creator.”

  Mal smiled. “This is so much more enjoyable when you agree with me, Doctor. Finally, after all these years, you’re beginning to see the light.”

  ---

  It was dark as two different men sat at the table in the guest quarters of the garrison with dinner in front of them. The plates were brought by a major some time ago. Only one of the men was eating; the other was filling a sheet of parchment.

  Shem watched Perrin intent on writing line after line. He wondered if he should reveal what he suspected—what he knew.

  After a few silent minutes, he tried. “You know, I was just remembering that time, maybe eleven years ago, when we spent every Weeding Season night sitting up in the trees on the edge of the forest listening in on the Guarders below us. We sure picked up a lot of information then, remember?”

  Perrin didn’t look up but kept writing.<
br />
  “They were so careless in those days,” Shem went on, “thinking that no one was spying on them as they spied on us. We just climbed high enough, and they never bothered to look up. Why would soldiers be dressed in black themselves and sitting at the tree line to overhear their plans?”

  Perrin scratched out another line.

  “Some of those nights sure were dull though, weren’t they? Except when we saw the occasional mountain lion under us, sniffing the trees. But we had plenty of time to perfect our silent communication of winks and facial tics, right? So those nights weren’t a complete loss.”

  Perrin scrawled yet another line.

  “But then there was that night when Brillen and his partner eavesdropped on two Guarders talking about a raid, and we surprised those ten Guarders the next day just as they came running out to the field.”

  “Yes, Shem—I was there,” Perrin said, a bit impatiently.

  “Swiftest end to a raid ever,” Shem said, and then attempted a soft chuckle. “Remember that time I had to climb down to go, uh, water the trees, and that Guarder mistook me for his contact?”

  Perrin merely grunted.

  “Yeah, that Guarder—we were talking about needs in the south and lack of silver slips, until suddenly he became suspicious of me. Starting saying a slightly strange phrase—”

  “You messed up in responding,” Perrin cut him off. “So I dropped from the tree and slashed his throat before he could slash yours.” His quill continued to move methodically across the page.

  Shem smiled faintly. “Quite a mess, and thank you again for saving my life. But I’ve frequently thought about that phrase. It was about the north—”

  Perrin looked up at him, his eyes dark and cold. “Not now, Shem.”

  “But Perrin—”

  “I’m not in the mood for any of your stories, Zenos!” Perrin snipped. “Now is not the time for ‘Remember when.’”

  Shem took a deep breath and let it out as Perrin went back to work. He was right; now wasn’t the time. Someday it would be, but now, considering his state of mind . . .

  Shem looked at Perrin’s plate, still untouched. He knew it was well over a day since Perrin had eaten. “You need food. If you want to be strong enough to go home tomorrow you need something.”

  Perrin didn’t answer, but started on a second page.

  “I realize it’s only army food,” Shem tried to say lightly, “but still.” When Perrin remained silent, he asked, “Is that for the major?”

  Perrin didn’t look up but instead regarded the notes he made. “Yes. Some questions I want him to investigate. I want them to look more into Riplak’s background. He started working for my father as a teenager, in the stables, but where did he come from before that?”

  “Uh, they have some ideas as to why his jacket was in Kindiri’s room.” Shem hesitated to go into further detail.

  “I know why,” Perrin said offhandedly.

  “You do?”

  “Caught Riplak coming down the servants’ stairs one morning.” Perrin dipped his quill in the ink and continued with his notes. “He was buttoning his jacket, but had missed a button. When he saw me, he seemed surprised but tried to be casual about it.”

  “What’d you say to him?”

  “That I expected better behavior from an officer. But he wasn’t an officer. Not really.” Perrin’s quill never stopped moving.

  “What do you mean, not really?” Shem asked, mystified.

  “He was one of them, Shem. A Guarder. He used Kindiri.”

  Perrin said it so plainly that Shem shook his head a little to make sure he heard that right. “Riplak was a Guarder? How do you know?”

  “He set us up. All of us. Worked for my father for years so that he trusted Riplak. Used Kindiri to keep close access to the house when he was supposed to be sleeping at the garrison. He left his jacket in her bedroom on purpose, Shem, so they’d think he was ‘caught with his trousers down,’ right?” Perrin looked up briefly into Shem’s stunned expression.

  “Well, uh, yeah, uh . . . that’s what Cush was suggesting—”

  Perrin turned back to his pages. “That’s what he wants them to think: that he was a derelict officer, and now he’s run away in shame.”

  “Yeah . . . exactly . . .” Shem shook his head, dumbfounded.

  “They’ll never see Riplak again. He’s long gone, but not in shame—in triumph. He’s probably been given a sizable bag of gold and will become the newest trainer of Guarders in how to infiltrate, murder, and get out alive and rich.”

  Shem sat back, deflated. “That’s . . . that’s . . . How’d you put that together? The way your mind works—Perrin, sometimes you really startle me.”

  “Thank you.”

  “That wasn’t exactly a compliment.”

  “I know.”

  Shem sighed. “I thought Riplak sounded honest in your office. He had me fooled, too. I guess Guarders are living in Idumea in disguise.”

  “Probably have been for years. The Guarders never quit; they just planted a few apple trees in some choice land, knowing they’d be back in a few years and would want a harvest.”

  “Wow,” Shem said dismally. “How’d you come to that conclusion?”

  “It’s what I would do.” He didn’t look up as he made a note on a smaller piece of paper.

  “Guess you would have made a good Guarder, then, with forethought like that.”

  “Three Guarders may have had free rein in that mansion,” Perrin bristled. “One of them even held my daughter for an hour teaching her to dance!” He scribbled more furiously.

  “Three? But,” Shem started hesitantly, “Kindiri couldn’t be one of them. She was beaten, horribly.”

  “Because she followed them, perhaps? Because she recognized her brother’s voice? Or went after her lover, trying to see what he was up to? She condemned herself. Oh, by the way—that corporal that survived but was found wounded and unconscious?” He waved a little note impassively. “Died this afternoon, of course. The only man with any answers as to who did what and where?” Perrin scoffed. “Besides, what better way to show Kindiri’s not connected to them but to attack her? Leave her bloodied and beaten in the house?”

  Perrin dropped the quill and exhaled. Shem blinked at his abrupt manner.

  “Leave them bloody and beaten in the house,” Perrin repeated tonelessly. “I’m such an idiot.”

  “Perrin?”

  He slowly looked up at Shem. “Leave them bloody and beaten in the house. Like you were. Left in the Arkys’ house during that first successful raid of Edge.” He leaned back in his chair and glared. “There’s been an apple tree in my back garden for fourteen years.”

  Shem’s mouth fell open in shock. “What are you talking about? Perrin! That was, that was—are you, are you suggesting, after all this time . . .” He struggled to know how to say it as angry tears filled his eyes.

  Perrin sighed and put his head in his hands. “No, no, no,” he said quietly, “of course not. I’m sorry. I’m just feeling . . .”

  He stopped, released his head, and looked at the affronted face of his friend. “Shem, there are cats everywhere.”

  Shem looked at him, baffled, before he understood. “You heard all of what Thorne said?”

  “Of course I did. I was in the carriage right next to you.”

  “But you seemed, you looked . . .”

  “Like a man who didn’t want to talk to Cush and Thorne? Like a man who just wanted to be left alone?”

  Shem smiled feebly. “Yes, and you were. But Perrin, I’m not like them. If anything has shown that, I would think the last thirteen, fourteen years would have.”

  Perrin held up his hands. “I know. I know. You’ve said so many things to me no Guarder could ever consider.” He looked away and seemed lost in thought for a moment. “Shem, what did you mean earlier today? As I was asking the Creator to watch over them at the burial? You said my parents were there.”

  Shem put his fork down and
looked intently at Perrin who now stared at the flickering candlelight. He’d been waiting for him to ask. “They were there. On either side of you as you knelt between their coffins. You mother on your right, your father on your left. I don’t mean their bodies. Their spirits.”

  Perrin slowly looked up at him. “Why didn’t I see them?”

  “Because you’re too angry.”

  Perrin breathed out heavily. “How did they look, honestly?”

  Shem began to smile, to Perrin’s surprise. “Wonderful! Much younger, radiant, and very concerned about their son.”

  “They were . . . cleaned up?”

  “Perrin, it’s only their bodies that were hurt, not their souls.” He leaned forward earnestly. “They looked as if they could be experiencing great joy, if only they could see you freed. They’re going to stay with you until they’re sure you’re fine. They had their arms around you, and each had a hand placed right—”

  Perrin put his hand on his chest, just above his heart. “Here?”

  Shem smiled. “Yes!”

  Perrin nodded slowly. “I wondered at first if it was the start of a heart attack, but it felt peaceful, like a glimpse of the sun during a terrible thunderstorm. But it didn’t seem right to feel such comfort at a time like that. I guess I pushed the feeling away—”

  “They’re trying to reach you, Perrin,” Shem said as his eyes shifted back and forth across him. “Right now, in fact.”

  Perrin looked down at his plate, breathing deeply. “There’s nothing I want to believe more than that.” His eyes darted to either side of him and saw nothing but the table and empty chairs next to him.

  “Then you have to forgive,” Shem said. “It’s the only way you’ll feel them.”

  Perrin’s head shot up. “Forgive?!” He leaped to his feet, shoving the chair behind him. “Do you see any Guarders kneeling at my feet begging for my mercy? Do you see any officials saying anything more than, ‘Sorry Perrin, let’s go get you sedated’? No!”