by Trish Mercer
That there wasn’t music playing when the tall buildings of Idumea first appeared on the horizon was a bit of a disappointment to Mahrree. She expected fanfare of some sort greeting her from the endless farm lands to announce the appearance of the greatest city in the world.
Then again, maybe there was a triumphant arrival melody, but she missed it because she was trying to stay awake to keep the two heads of her very heavy and sleeping children balanced on each shoulder.
How Perrin managed to get the opposite seat all to himself was still a mystery to her. He said it was less comfortable, but with his legs up and his nodding head bouncing in rhythm to the swaying of the coach, she gladly would have tried out the ‘bumpy’ bench alone, just for an hour. It must not have been too unbearable because when the soldier acting as footman knocked on the side of the carriage to announce Idumea was in view, Perrin woke up with a satisfied smile. Although he’d had an ominous air about him all day yesterday and during the morning after their miserable night of non-sleeping, he seemed to be attempting a more cheerful outlook this late afternoon.
“Actually, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” He smiled at his wife as he stretched.
“I wouldn’t know,” she said wearily, still feeling the kink in her shoulders from attempting to sleep while leaning against her husband during the night. “But I will know on the return ride home. That bench is mine. These children are yours.”
Perrin grinned in a way that usually made her forgive him instantly. Even after sixteen years his eyes still had a powerful effect on her. He’s just lucky they do, she thought to herself, or he’d be walking home.
Perrin leaned forward as if to kiss her, but instead reached out and shook the knees of each of his children. “Jaytsy! Peto! Wake up. You didn’t want to miss the approach, remember?”
With matching moans the teens sat up and grabbed their necks.
“Ah, I’m so sore,” Jaytsy complained.
“You’re sore?” Mahrree said.
“Where are we, anyway?” Peto yawned.
“Just past the center of Pools, on the approach to Idumea,” said Perrin.
Jaytsy looked disappointed. “We missed Pools?”
“That’s where you were born,” Mahrree reminded Perrin.
He scoffed. “Not as if I remember that day. We moved just a couple moons later. But I have a feeling Jaytsy is disappointed about missing Pools for another reason.”
“I know I am!” Peto said, holding his belly. “I’m starving, and one of Gizzada’s sandwiches would have been perfect about now.”
Jaytsy nodded. “Or just a fourth of one of his sandwiches. Been years since I had one, but those were pretty hard to forget. I’ve never understood how he could get so many ingredients to stack up to six inches high without toppling.”
“I was thinking that maybe,” Mahrree said, “if everything goes well that is, we could try to come back here and pay him a visit. I’ve heard his restaurant is quite unforgettable.”
Perrin smiled. “We’ll see what we can do. And thanks for nothing, Peto. Now I’m craving a Gizzada sandwich.”
“You know how I hate to be hungry alone.” Peto stretched, turned to the side, and stuck his head out the window. “Whoa—I didn’t know Idumea had hills.”
“Those aren’t hills, Peto,” his father told him. “Those are buildings.”
Jaytsy turned quickly to look out her window. “How tall are they?”
“The tallest building is seven levels high, with a lookout tower on top, constructed all out of block. I’m curious to see how they held up in the land tremors. Why aren’t you looking, Mahrree?”
She held up her hands. “The children have the side windows, my back is to the driver, and you have that whole bench.”
Perrin slid over and patted the seat next to him. “Waiting for an invitation?”
“Actually, yes,” she said primly. “I understand that’s the custom in Idumea. Yelling over fences to borrow some eggs isn’t proper.” She sniffed. “Simply patting a bench is, well, unsophisticated.”
“There’s another custom in Idumea,” Perrin said, trying only sloppily to match her attempt at snobbery. “It’s called Wife Grabbing.” Faster than she expected, Perrin caught her arms and pulled her over to sit on his lap.
“Really?” Jaytsy squirmed. “Wife Grabbing?”
Mahrree chuckled but Perrin said, “Well, some of the Administrators have been known to—”
“Perrin,” Mahrree warned. There were a few questionable behaviors in the big city that hadn’t yet reached the furthest village of the world, and Mahrree wanted to keep her children as innocent as possible.
“Sorry,” her husband murmured. “Can you at least see now?” he teased and kissed her on the cheek.
“Yes I can. And I thank you, sir, for the comfortable seat.” She wrapped her arms around his and leaned back on him with a contented sigh. For as long as he was relaxed, she was going to take full advantage of it.
“Oh, you’re not really going to act that way in Idumea, are you?” said Jaytsy, her voice a combination of disgust, embarrassment, and just a bit of delight. “You’ll be kicked out of whatever society Grandmother Shin tries to take you to!” But her eyes revealed she was happy to see her parents flirting again. Mahrree realized it’d been nearly a week since they’d been so at ease. It certainly wouldn’t last.
“That’s why I have to get it all out of me now,” Perrin said. “Besides, we’re not going into anything of society. Living for so long in the north has drained all sense of deportment from me. In fact, I’ll be surprised if we aren’t run out of Idumea by tomorrow morning.”
Peto’s face paled. “Exactly how are we supposed to act?”
“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Mahrree chuckled. “Just act like your grandmother and grandfather and you won’t have any problems.”
The look on her children’s faces told her that advice didn’t help.
“So,” Jaytsy started slowly, “I need to make sure my hair is perfect and my clothing is spotless and give everyone a careful smile, and Peto has to squint his eyes and clear his throat gruffly and tip his cap over and over. Peto, you need to get a cap.”
“Speaking of caps,” Perrin said guiltily. Using his boot he gestured to where his lay on the dusty floor of the coach. “Mahrree, would you mind?”
With her foot she kicked it up high enough to catch it. She attempted to brush off the dirt from the dark blue cloth and shading brim. “Hmm. We have been traveling, after all. They’ll forgive you for a little dirt on your uniform, right?”
Perrin only grunted as he took it from her and replaced it properly on his head. He promptly took it off and set it on the seat. “Not ready for that yet,” he murmured.
Mahrree hugged his arms again. “Well, we’re not here to make an impression. We’re just here to help your mother take care of your father. We won’t be going to any events—”
“I doubt anything is going on anyway,” Perrin cut her off, obviously uncomfortable at the idea, “if the reports of damage are correct. No one will have time to do anything but clean up.”
Mahrree nodded. “We’re here to help, not be entertained.”
Unconvinced, Peto and Jaytsy nodded and turned back to the windows.
“I can hardly see the mountains anymore,” Jaytsy said disappointedly. “Just a faint bluish-gray blur on the horizon.”
Perrin leaned out his window to look. “You know, I never realized before you can actually see the mountains from here. No one in the world ever wants to see them, so they just ignore them.”
“I think that’s how Mountseen got its name,” Mahrree said. “The first village where the mountains loom so obviously in the background that you can no longer ignore them.”
Peto looked to the north. “I kind of miss them. All of this feels so . . . open.”
This was the first time in two days the scenery was not predictable, Mahrree realized. As they had left Edge they traveled past field after field waiting for t
he plows to churn over the black and brown mud.
The landscape had a pattern—fields became spotted by houses, then were taken over by a village, then spotted again by houses, then turned back into undisturbed fields once more. And that’s how everything blandly appeared for the last seventy-five miles. At first seeing the villages was exciting, but soon each place had an endlessly dull familiarity about it that wasn’t even worth looking out the windows.
But now the fields were different somehow. Still dormant, but with a uniquely Idumean feel to them, as if they knew they were on the border of someplace important. The clods of dirt even seemed more precise as the occasional farmer squatted in the soil to analyze the dryness. And even the farmers wore tall silk hats, Mahrree couldn’t help but notice, not floppy homemade ones fashioned out of straw like back in Edge.
Very few homes they saw as the coach whipped past them had any damage, with only a crumbled chimney here, or a shifted addition there. But everything seemed to be larger near Idumea. Windows, doors, rooflines—as if everyone near the city was two feet taller than the rest of the world.
“The damage here is odd,” Jaytsy remarked. “That neighborhood before had some crumbles of stone. But here—there’s nothing.”
“I was thinking that too,” Mahrree said, leaning only slightly out of her husband’s embrace. “It’s as if the land tremor was feeling temperamental when it reached here, picking and choosing which houses to hit and which to miss.”
“I don’t remember so many houses through here,” Perrin mumbled. “Used to be fields. Farms. Dairies. Ranches. Now it’s all just these sprawling block homes with—what was that name? Zebra Eztates? They named the neighborhood?” Perrin rolled his eyes. “That’s Idumea for you. Give something real the name of something imaginary,” he grumbled.
Mahrree was glad her husband couldn’t see her face. She gave a warning look to both her teens, but they were already nodding slightly back to her. He was only getting started, so they should just stay out of his way until it was over.
“Look at that—that isn’t a garden. What is that?” he exclaimed before Mahrree could point out they didn’t have a proper garden either. “It’s just an expanse of short green grasses. What good is that but for goat feed? I think I even saw someone cutting that stuff back with some slicing contraption! Not even letting the sheep eat it? We need to cultivate every patch of land we can for either produce or orchards or livestock, but this—what a waste.”
“Well, Perrin,” Mahrree patted his arm more firmly as if his complaining would stop with just the right amount of force and rhythm, “at least they’ve taken your road labeling idea to heart. Every house we’ve passed has a number, and every road has a name.”
He shrugged behind her. “Used to be a time when you were promoted for defending a village or killing a Guarder. Now it’s for making people name things,” he said dully.
Mahrree gently elbowed him. “I’m far prouder of you developing systems making it easier for soldiers to defend their territories than I am for when you single-handedly killed nearly a dozen Guarders.”
“Well, of course. So am I,” said Perrin dismissively.
“What kind of name is that, Father?” Peto asked, distracting his parents from the fact that Lieutenant Colonel Shin had been little more than a glorified law enforcer for many years. “Wapiti Way?”
“Oh, for pity’s sake,” Perrin groaned. “Just let me die now. And there’s another—Elephant Elms! Idumea’s gone stupid. Mythical animals, likely mythical houses and people as well—”
“I remember how Terryp described elephants,” Peto said. “Those giant animals in the carvings at the old ruins, right? With flapping ears? But what were wapiti?”
“Giant deer,” Mahrree told him. “With massive antlers. Terryp saw carvings with three people riding them.”
“And zebras,” Perrin said moodily. “I’d give anything if those were real. Striped horses. Now that’d be something to see. They ran in huge herds, according to what Terryp saw in the carvings. They’d stampede this place properly. I hate Idumea.”
Jaytsy sighed. In a loud whisper to her mother she fully intended her father to hear, she asked, “How long is he going to be on this self-righteous ‘Why I hate Idumea’ rant? Because, I have to tell you, he’s sucking away all the excitement like a mosquito. I’m almost tempted to smack him.”
“I agree,” Mahrree whispered loudly back and patted her husband’s thigh.
Perrin reluctantly shrugged. “I’ll complain only until your grandparents’ house. Maybe again later, after I’ve seen some more of this place. Definitely probably on the way home, though, I must warn you. But I’ll be good at my parents’ house. All right?”
Jaytsy sighed again. “That’s the best you can do, Father?”
Perrin couldn’t contain his smile anymore. “No, but it’s the best I’ll try to do. When we get to the first road jam, you will be joining me in complaining, I’m sure.”
“What’s a road jam?” Peto asked.
Perrin leaned out the window. The houses were clustered more closely together here, and the people seemed to multiply as well.
“You’re about to see one, Peto. Corporal!” he called out the window to the driver. “It’s going to get messy up ahead. That’s why they call it a jam. Remember, you’re driving an army coach. People tend to be afraid of these. Don’t be shy about blazing through, understood?”
“Yes, sir!” the cheerful corporal called down. It wasn’t every day he was ordered to drive aggressively.
Peto’s eyes grew big as he noticed the convergence of two roads and dozens of carts, wagons, and even another coach all approaching at the same time. He looked worriedly at his father.
“We’re the biggest,” Perrin said, sizing up the traffic. “That means we get to go first. The problem is getting everyone else to understand that. That’s when things get complicated. Hold on!” and he wrapped his arm tighter around his wife.
The corporal cracked his whip and shouted, a bit too eagerly, “Make way! Make way!”
The Shins watched worriedly through the windows as people stepped quickly off the road, a wagon turned suddenly out of the way, several horses reared and nearly tossed their riders, and two carts stopped abruptly. The other coach on its way to intersect their path had to veer to their right to fall in behind the army coach. Its driver shouted some words that Peto and Jaytsy had never heard before, but made their mother blush.
As their coach made a sharp turn, Mahrree slid out of Perrin’s grip and off of his lap, and Jaytsy crashed into Peto, smashing him against the side.
Perrin just smiled dourly. “Welcome to Idumea.”
“How many of those will we encounter?” Mahrree asked, breathless on the floor, and cautiously pulled herself to get back up onto the seat next to Perrin.
“Until we reach my parents’ place?” He gave her a steadying hand and brushed some dust off her skirt. “Considering it’s near dinner time and everyone’s trying to get home—maybe a dozen or so. It’s called ‘dawdle hour.’ Everyone’s delayed.”
His wife paled.
“My father had a good idea for regulating the roads, but no one would implement it. He thought people should take turns. Have someone hold up a red flag for a while for one road, then a blue flag for another, signaling when those on the road could go. Could have saved a lot of aggravation. But his idea was killed by the Administrator of Transportation.”
“Why?” Mahrree asked, baffled.
“That Administrator has a lot of connections with those who work in wagon repair. The more damage to vehicles, the more business they get. If they reduce accidents, they reduce work.”
Mahrree was shocked. “But, but . . . people get hurt in those accidents, don’t they?”
“Sometimes there are fatalities, but mostly people just get injured. So that’s more business for the doctors as well,” Perrin said with sad smugness. “The Administrator over Health and Wellness pointed that out
.”
Mahrree was stunned silent, but Jaytsy had an opinion. “That’s terrible!”
“Ah,” Perrin smiled dismally at his daughter, “now you’re beginning to sound more like me.”
The next jam was a perfect illustration of why the administrators over transportation, and health and wellness were upheld by their supporters. Two wagons had collided and spilled their cargos, one wheel was broken, and so was someone’s leg.
Perrin grumbled as he saw the mess. The traffic had slowed to an old woman’s shuffle as each wagon and rider turned to look at the scene as they passed.
“They call this ‘grandmothering’—creeping along to see what’s happened, then making a few snide comments about the general decline of people today. This may take some time. Corporal?” he called up, “Can you turn around?”
“Already looking for a way, sir.”
Suddenly the coach door jerked open and there stood an older man with a jolly face, his great girth forced into a dark blue uniform full of medals. “Well, Perrin, since you might be delayed for a bit, I thought I’d come join you.”
“General Cush!” Perrin exclaimed. “I haven’t seen you in what, sixteen years?”
“Then I’m surprised you still recognize me. Never come home, never visit the old timers—” He smiled as he hefted himself into the coach which swayed under his weight.
Mahrree dove for the opposite bench between her children, grateful that she hadn’t been sitting on her husband’s lap again when the general surprised them. Jaytsy let out a tiny yelp of anxiousness, and Peto actually tried to sit at attention. Mahrree snatched Perrin’s cap from the dusty floor and tossed it to him. While General Cush was turning slowly to aim himself at the seat, Perrin frantically wiped off his cap and replaced it properly on his head.
By the time the general sat, making the coach sway dangerously in his direction, Perrin was the very model of a composed officer.
Even though General Cush wore a dust-free cap, Mahrree could tell he had only a fringe of dark hair remaining around his head, and a thin dark beard and mustache trimmed short to conform to the grooming standards of the army. But Mahrree was sure he was never in hand-to-hand combat with a Guarder that could grab hold of his beard. A Guarder could, however, get a handhold on his ample belly, she thought impolitely. Perhaps there was a size requirement for generals, and if they couldn’t meet it in height and bulk, they could make up for it in width.
General Cush stuck his head out of the window and spoke to an unseen officer on horseback. “Lieutenant Riplak, I’ll ride with the Shin family the rest of the way. You go on ahead and tell Mrs. Shin we’re in a jam at the beginning of the shopping district. They’re trapped just where I predicted they would be.”
The coach lurched again, caused by another weight joining the corporal holding the reins of the stalled horses.
“My best driver will get us out of here in a bit,” Cush assured them. “I have a feeling your corporal hasn’t seen congestion like this.”
“Cush, how’s my father?” Perrin asked urgently.
The general patted Perrin’s leg. “He may be sixty-eight, but he’s a tough old wolf. He’s very weak, though. Hasn’t had food or water for days, but the surgeon’s trying to get some down him. Some broken ribs possibly, concussion, and he lost blood from a deep gash in his leg. They found him trapped and unconscious in that storage room of his, in the cellar of the old garrison. He was under such a mountain of debris it took another three hours to dig him out. Frankly, we were all surprised he still had a pulse. Everyone, except for your mother.”
Perrin’s eyebrows furrowed. “What was he doing down there early on a Holy Day morning?”
Cush shrugged. “You know your father and his paperwork. Probably had a nightmare that one page in one file was slightly out of place, so he had to go see for himself.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me? As soon as he was missing?”
“And what would you have done if a messenger had come that first day?” Cush’s tone turned sharp. “Would you have left your duty in Edge? Was there anything you could’ve done here to make a difference? Everyone in Idumea was searching for survivors. I doubt one more body would have found him faster.”
“But my mother—”
“Was the one who wouldn’t let anyone send you a messenger,” Cush cut him off. Then, more gently he added, “Not until she knew what kind of news to send you. Duty first, Lieutenant Colonel. Remember?”
Perrin nodded, but he slouched and stared blankly out the window.
Mahrree tried to catch his eye, but felt Cush’s gaze instead.
The general brightened as he took in the scene across from him. “Now, speaking of remembering one’s duty . . . Perrin, you’ve yet to introduce me to your family.” He nudged Perrin with his elbow.
Perrin blinked and sat up. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said formally, and Mahrree was impressed with how quickly he shifted back into officer mode. “Advising General Aldwyn Cush, may I present my wife Mahrree, my daughter Jaytsy, and my son Peto.”
The general smiled broadly. “Wonderful to finally meet you. Joriana was hoping you’d be along. Talks about you all the time to my wife.”
“Thank you, sir,” Mahrree smiled. “The Shins have been trying to get us here for a long time. I guess they decided to do something drastic to force the visit.”
Cush chuckled pleasantly.
The coach had turned around and was heading down a narrow side road, filling it nearly entirely. Mahrree pitied anyone thinking of coming in the opposite direction; they likely were fleeing into adjoining alleys.
“I find the lack of damage here remarkable,” Mahrree said as she peered out the window. “The reports suggested Idumea was in far worse condition.”
“Some areas are, ma’am,” the general said soberly. “The land tremor acted like a wave in a small pool. Some of our men on the towers could actually see a wave ripple from the north, then suddenly bounce back from some point in the south. Where two crests of the waves met, that’s where the greatest damage occurred. Everywhere else simply rode out the waves with just a few things falling off of shelves. Strangest thing I’ve ever experienced. Many of the poorer and older neighborhoods were completely demolished, though. And one of the crests hit the old garrison causing complete devastation.”
“As if the land underneath the area is all water, or some other kind of fluidic matter?” Mahrree wondered.
“Very good, Mrs. Shin. One of our scientists suggested that at the briefing this morning.” The general elbowed Perrin again. “I didn’t know you married a thinking woman. Makes me wonder, what was she thinking when she agreed to marry you?” He laughed loudly at his own joke, and Mahrree smiled at Perrin’s discomfort.
“So, young man,” the general sized up Peto. “Do you have aspirations to follow in your father’s footsteps?”
Mahrree watched her son closely from the corner of her eye. She knew the answer, as did Perrin, but she wondered if Peto would have the courage to confess the truth to the second most powerful officer in the world. His grandfather still hadn’t accepted the answer, expecting that time and maturity would change his mind.
Peto squirmed a little as he addressed the large general. “Not really, sir.”
“‘Not really’?” Cush blinked, incredulous. “Three generations of Shin men have been generals in Idumea, well it will be three if Perrin here ever shapes up,” he nudged Perrin again who smiled obligingly, “and you don’t want to be the fourth? Why not?”
Peto shifted under the study of General Cush. “Because I don’t like horses and I don’t like getting hurt.”
The general was thoughtful for a moment before he burst out in a short laugh. “Good reasons, boy! So you’re not like your father, eh? You look a lot like him, from what I remember. But it’s a good thing for your mother you’re not Young Perrin Shin.”
Jaytsy began to smile. “Just what kind of trouble did Father cause, General? Sounds like you’v
e known him a long time.”
General Cush pointed a chubby finger at Jaytsy. “I like this girl, Perrin. Watch out for her! Beautiful young lady.”
Jaytsy blushed.
“Miss Shin, I’ve known this boy,” and he slapped Perrin’s thigh loudly, “since he was just a little thing. What kind of trouble? Perrin, hold up your hand. No, the other one. You know what I mean.”
Reluctantly, Perrin held up his left hand.
The general took him roughly by the wrist and forced his fingers together.
Perrin winced slightly.
“Hmm. There. See it? How that last finger bulges out from the others? I can tell you exactly how that happened.”
“Father already told us,” Peto said. “An incident with the Guarders, right after they were married.”
“Wait a minute,” said Mahrree slowly. “You weren’t injured in that, except for a lot of scrapes and cuts.”
“I didn’t tell you about my hand. You were sick with expecting Jaytsy, and I didn’t want to worry you.” He was almost believable.
“Liar!” Mahrree exclaimed. “I noticed that gimpy finger of yours before we were married. I even asked you about it once, remember? You gave me some lame explanation. I can’t remember now . . .”
“So General,” Perrin said abruptly, pulling his hand from Cush’s grip and turning to face him properly. “How are the rescue and recovery operations going on here? I’d like to see what we could do to improve our response time in Edge.”
The general looked at him for a moment, then ignored his diversionary tactic and turned to his family. “He jumped. Off the stockade fence that surrounded the old garrison in Idumea.” He turned slowly to look at Perrin. “To impress a girl!”
Mahrree’s eyebrows rose. “Please tell me he was younger than twenty-seven when he did that.”
The general smiled. “He was eleven.”
“Ohh,” Mahrree said, remembering. “You told me,” she rounded on to her husband, “that when you were eleven someone sat on your hand! I thought that sounded fishy. But you jumped?”
Perrin looked at the expectant faces of his two children. It was time for damage control. “It was a foolish thing to do, and I was not trying to impress a girl. I was trying to prove her wrong. I seem to have a compulsive need to do that, quite to my detriment.” He glanced at his wife.
The general began to chuckle, and Mahrree snorted.
“She said it would be stupid to climb up there and jump—” Perrin tried to explain.
“So you proved her right,” Peto finished for him.
His sister giggled.
“I almost succeeded,” Perrin defended. “I landed quite well on my feet, but my momentum caused me to fall forward and I fell on my hand.”
“Is that also how you got that scar on your forehead?” Mahrree prodded. “That was the first thing I noticed about you. Also another injury you never elaborated on.”
The general cleared his throat expectantly.
Perrin gave him a sidelong glance. “Yes, I injured my head at that time as well.”
“HA!” the general barked so loudly that each Shin jumped. “That’s not entirely accurate—I know. That girl who was arguing with you was my daughter, and she’d fallen for young Perrin here something fierce.”
Mahrree burst into a grin. While she knew her husband didn’t have the highest opinion of the Cush—his father called him “Mal’s lapdog,” which made Mahrree wonder just how large a lap the Chairman possessed—she recognized a wealth of information when she met one, and was always eager to uncover the mysteries from the past. “General, I have a feeling I’ll need to spend some time with you. I don’t remember hearing this from Mrs. Shin.”
The general laughed. “I don’t think she knew!”
Perrin looked down at his hands guiltily.
“But don’t worry, my daughter got over that puppy love quite quickly, because of what he did to her.” He jerked his thumb in Perrin’s direction.
“Wait, wait,” Mahrree said. “Let me guess—she’s the girl who ‘sat’ on his hand?”
“That’s what he told everyone, too: my daughter’s fault he dislocated his finger because she sat on it! Well, when she heard that, and got in trouble by her mother, she marched over to the Shins’ house and had it out with him.” Cush smacked his hand loudly again on Perrin’s thigh, which would be red by the time they reached the Shins’ house. “She didn’t care he’d just come back from the fort’s surgeon and was in terrible pain. She was going to have her revenge for his lie.”
Jaytsy clapped her hands and squealed. “What did she say to you, Father?”
Perrin looked at each member of his family before glancing at the general. “This is another reason why I hate Idumea,” he said in a low voice.
The general laughed. “Tell them, Lieutenant Colonel. And that’s an order!”
Perrin sighed loudly. “She didn’t say anything. She just took a stick and—” He pointed to his scar on his forehead.
“She hit you?” Mahrree exclaimed. “Really? After our first two debates, I wanted to beat you with a stick, too.”
Over the laughter in the coach Perrin said loudly, “I did apologize—”
“—Six year later, at her wedding!” the general pointed out.
“I hate Idumea,” Perrin said under his breath as his family howled. “Of all the people to rescue us from a traffic jam . . .”
When his family finally regained their composure, Perrin, trying to sound pleasant, asked, “So Cush, how’s Versula?”
“Doing quite well. Her husband’s been a full colonel for a few years now,” the general nudged him again, “and commander of the garrison. My daughter found a man even more promising than Perrin here.”
“Well—Qayin Thorne, was it? He was a few years older, too, Cush, when they married,” Perrin reminded him. “He was graduating from Command School when Versula was, what, seventeen?”
“And their boy is graduating at the end of the season himself,” the general puffed up. “Lemuel’s a most ambitious young man. Sharp mind, aggressive leader, wants to command his own fort. If there’s time, I should introduce you two. I think my grandson could learn a few things from you.”
“Well, I’d be happy to meet with him,” Perrin said, and Mahrree could tell he didn’t mean it. “As long as he isn’t carrying a stick,” he added quietly.
Cush elbowed him once more. “Now, about that scar on his right arm—young Mr. Shin, you’ll appreciate this . . .”
Perrin kept his eyes trained on the scenery moving outside of the coach, and Mahrree smirked at his behavior. It seemed the general had quite a good memory. Mahrree realized they were passing the famous shops she’d heard so much about over the years, but listening to her husband’s more tarnished days was far more entertaining than looking at dresses displayed in the clear windows.
As the coach turned into the row of old large houses, Perrin sat up and interrupted the general. “You’ll have to finish that story . . . never. We’re almost there.”
The Shin family put their heads out of the windows to see large trees canopying above them, the first leaf buds beginning to show.
Mahrree bit her lip in worry. How ridiculously small and quaint her house must have appeared the first time Perrin’s parents came to visit. Despite the three additions, it was still just a fraction of the size of these majestic stone houses with elaborate gardens.
Each yard seemed to try to outdo the other in color and vibrancy. The earliest flowers were already blooming, and Mahrree couldn’t imagine how the later flowers would find any room to grow. She groaned inwardly about her pitiful little garden now complete with two hunting spits in the back garden and without a vining and blooming trellis anywhere near them.
But, Mahrree realized, Mrs. Shin had never said anything unkind or revealed any disappointment in their home. Yet now Mahrree could see why the Shins so frequently suggested it was time for Perrin to move on to something gran
der, because, as she noticed in one back garden, the size of their current home was about the same size as the sheds.
Mahrree turned slowly to look at her husband.
His face was frozen in anxious anticipation.
“Why did you never tell me where they lived?” she whispered to him.
“What? You never asked.”
“In all these years, it never occurred to you to tell me that . . . Look at these houses! I mean, I can’t imagine how you could grow up in this—”
“I didn’t grow up here,” he reminded her. “And I didn’t think you’d care. My parents moved here when I started Command School. King Oren worried his influence was slipping away, and thought that moving the High General into the mansion that he had built for his—”
Perrin stopped and looked at his children, who were gaping out the window and likely heard only bits of what he said. Still, Mahrree raised her eyebrows in warning at him.
“—for his friend and her children,” Perrin finally decided to call Oren’s favorite mistress and sons, “would help secure my father’s allegiance. The king’s friend had already left him. When the Administrators took over, they continued to let my parents stay here. No one needed a mansion—”
Mahrree’s mouth went dry at the word mansion.
“—except maybe the administrator over law who always seems to have another—”
Mahrree gave him a deliberate look that told him the sordid relationships of the Administrator of Law didn’t need to be detailed to their two impressionable teens.
General Cush winked knowingly at her.
“So you’re telling me,” she started slowly, “that we’re about to enter one of the largest—”
“Second largest, actually,” Cush informed her. “In the world.”
“The second largest mansion in the world that used to be home to King Oren’s sons?”
“Yes,” Perrin said simply.
“I don’t believe it! Us? We don’t belong in something like that!”
Perrin waved that off, trying to look nonchalant, but he was too stiff. “It’s not quite as grand as the kings’ old mansion. Chairman Nicko Mal lives in that one now. But my mother appreciated the large house for entertaining visiting officers, holding dinners—you know, all that stuff.”
Mahrree’s mouth fell open. “No, actually, I don’t know all that ‘stuff’. Is that still expected?”
The general laughed lightly. “The generals are expected to put on a show. And the High General of Idumea? Well, his house must be the best, and his shows the best, right?”
Mahrree gulped and looked at her children.
They pulled their eyes from the windows, shared her worried look, and glanced at their father who was watching out the window.
He smiled glumly. “And . . . there it is.”
His family twisted to poke their heads out the windows—
Big wasn’t a big enough word.
Fanfare definitely should have been playing.
The two soldiers holding shut the large iron gates certainly could have held horns in their other hands. There would have been plenty of time for them to play a melody or two as they opened the gates and the four horses of the coach trotted easily up the long cobblestone drive to a house far bigger than the Upper Level Schools of Edge, all put together.
It was a home Hycymum Peto would have walked by again and again in hopes of catching someone’s attention, then securing an invitation to tour. Getting her back out would have required all the soldiers in the area.
The stone was perfectly matched and rose to great heights, with enormous windows scalloped by silk curtains. On the first level were five massive, rectangular windows extending on either side of two ornately carved great front doors, attended to by another soldier who seemed to be watching for them. The second full level had another row of matching windows, only slightly smaller. At least a dozen chimneys rose up from the house, covered in ivy which also draped parts of the house in such an artful pattern that Mahrree wondered if someone had deliberately guided the vines to grow that way.
“Now that is a house you could get lost in,” Peto said with a hint of planning in his voice.
“Don’t even think it, whatever you’re thinking!” Mahrree warned him. Turning to Perrin she asked, “Is there a back door?”
“Yes, three in fact. Why?”
“Look at us!” she wailed in a whisper. “We’ve been traveling for two days and a night and look like nothing that should walk through those!”
The coach lurched to a stop at the terrifying front doors.
“Please, Perrin! Ask them to go around.”
Perrin just smiled. “Don’t worry—my mother’s great, remember?”
The general chuckled at Mahrree’s fretting. “Mrs. Shin, it’s not like there’s a formal dinner tonight.”
The coach doors opened, and the Shins saw the great oak doors open as well. Joriana Shin rushed out, holding up her skirts as she hurried down the perfectly aligned flat stone stairs. For a woman in her late sixties, she ran with remarkable speed and, as always, grace. No one in the world moved quite as smoothly as Mrs. Joriana Shin, even when she was beside herself with worry and joy.
“You’re here! You’re here!” she yelled uncharacteristically. Mahrree had never heard more than absolute calm from her. But this evening Joriana Shin wasn’t anything like the picture of Idumean elegance she normally was. While she was still slender and shapely, there was a sense of frumpled panic in her movement. Her skirt, while still finer than anything Mahrree owned, was wrinkled, the sleeves of her blouse were rolled up, and a small lock of graying hair was out of place and falling in front of her eyes, with no hat in sight to shield the rest.
For Joriana, that was inexcusable.
Perrin bounded out of the coach first and caught her in a firm embrace. “As fast as we could, Mother. Are you all right?”
“I am now!” She squeezed her son, not caring who saw her public display of affection. She reached out an arm, not ready to let go of her son. “Mahrree!” She caught her daughter-in-law who had stepped out of the coach with the help of the footman, and pulled her into the hug. “I can’t tell you how excited I am you and the children came! I’ve been trying to convince Perrin to bring you for years. Who knew it would take something like this to finally get him to do it.”
Mahrree chuckled softly as she patted her mother-in-law on the other side of her husband. “Actually, Mother Shin, I had to convince him to let us come.”
“Mother, here’s an idea,” Perrin offered, trapped uncomfortably between the two women. “Release me so I can see Father, and so you can maul your grandchildren.”
“Yes, of course! Look how tall they’ve grown!” she cried as they unloaded from the coach and beamed at their grandmother who rushed them. “And thank you, Aldwyn. I appreciate you bringing them here.”
“Anytime, Joriana,” said Cush as he emerged from the coach. “Perrin, your father’s in the study. Easier access for the surgeon. I’ll take you there in case you’ve forgotten the way. Your mother seems to be in the middle of a smothering.”
Perrin looked back at Mahrree and held out his hand.
Mahrree was startled. He never held her hand in public, and rarely in their house. After they were first engaged he told her he needed to keep his sword hand free, along with his number two-hand for punching the enemy.
But perhaps being at a house guarded with armed soldiers, he felt for the first time that he could spare one hand to hold hers.
She willingly took his hand, and he gripped hers tightly to pull her close. She’d never seen him behave like this, and wasn’t quite sure what it meant. But she didn’t have time to wonder, because he pulled her through those massive doors.
It was called a fo-yay, she found out later, but never figured out why. All she knew was that the ceiling stretched to the top of the second floor. On one side was a long side table covered with vases and flowers, and on the oppo
site wall was a row of carved hooks to hold visiting soldiers’ caps and jackets. Perrin tossed his cap casually onto one of the hooks, as if he’d done it every day for years, then continued to pull his stunned wife to the Grand Hall.
It was easy to figure out that name. It was a hall. And it was grand.
Grand enough to put their entire house in it, Mahrree thought. The ceiling extended up to the second floor again, and for the first time Mahrree saw chandeliers, filled with hundreds of candles to light the Grand Hall for guests, but not tonight. The Hall extended all the way to both ends of the house, with massive fireplaces on both the west wing and the east wing. Doors along either side of the Hall lead to bedrooms, washing rooms, and, Mahrree fancied, probably another house because . . . why not? This was Idumea, after all.
On either end of the Grand Hall were tall, clear windows. The setting sun in the west hit the Hall directly, bathing it in a warm golden hue, and Mahrree realized that the rising sun would also fill the Hall with light. For some reason that made her smile.
Coming down the middle of the mansion, and opening on to the Grand Hall and the fo-yay, was a staircase.
Well, that seemed to be an understatement for something wide enough that could have accommodated their entire family walking up it side by side. The sides were an open fretwork—Mahrree learned later it was called, likely because any mothers of young children would fret their heads would get stuck in it—the wood railings carved in an elaborate design of flowers, vines, and even a squirrel or two, as if climbing the twenty or so stairs was like climbing a tree to the second level.
All Mahrree could think initially was, What a misery to dust all those grooves . . .
The fretful fretwork continued along a railing of the upper level extending through both the east and west wings, creating an open balcony. Along the balcony were additional doors, many of which Mahrree suspected led to nowhere because she couldn’t imagine what else could possibly be there. But maybe the house-wide balcony existed only to allow people to stroll along and look out the front windows across the Grand Hall, or down upon its floor.
The floor! Mahrree noticed it only briefly as her husband dragged her along the floor that was also wood, but such wood. Not a nick, not a ding, not even any knotholes, but utterly smooth and polished so highly that she slipped and slid along it as if it were ice. She couldn’t imagine why anyone would want such a useless floor that didn’t catch your boots as you trotted along it, but then again she was Edgy, which meant all she could think was, Just how long does it take to sweep up this place?
With her senses fully overwhelmed, and her mouth gaping stupidly, she followed her husband and General Cush as they headed for the first large door on the left of the fo-yay.
Cush quietly pushed open the door to allow them to enter, and again Perrin had to drag her along because she could no longer make her feet move properly.
She now knew the meaning of “rich.” The study walls were lined with more carved wood, this time in the form of shelves higher than her head that held more books than Mahrree knew existed. Their firm leather covers were so carefully aligned that it seemed none of them ever left their positions. The windows were draped in deep red silk curtains, pulled halfway shut to keep the light subdued. A large desk to the side seemed to be out of place there, as if it had been shoved a bit wonkily to make room. On top of the desk were obsessively neat stacks of papers, quills perfectly lined up and standing at attention in a holder, and three bottles of ink patiently waiting for something interesting to happen.
That was also the impression the soldier sitting next to the desk gave off. He was perched on a cushioned chair at a semblance of attention, but with a hint of hopeless boredom in his eyes.
And there, in the middle of the opulent study, was the wide bed which made Perrin stop suddenly in the room. Mahrree tried not to skid into the back of him, but the thick rug on the floor didn’t stop her fast enough. Perrin noticed only his father lying very still in the white sheets. Mahrree peeked cautiously around her husband, afraid of what she might see.
The general looked much paler and thinner than the last time he visited Edge five moons ago, and Mahrree had never seen him out of his uniform, which seemed wrong at the moment. By the concerned furrowing of Perrin’s eyebrows, she wondered if he thought that way too. The general wore his white army undershirt, however, which still made him officially presentable. His cap sat on the desk, ready for him to don it.
Perrin’s grip on Mahrree’s hand became so firm that she patted his hand gently with her other, hoping he’d ease up a bit. He did so only slightly. They both ignored the sound of footsteps behind them, too engrossed in staring at the jarring form of Relf Shin. It was as if seeing a bird stopped ludicrously in midflight, hanging impossibly in the air, and wondering if it would fall to the ground or eventually, miraculously, suddenly fly again—
“You must be the famous Lieutenant Colonel Shin,” said an unfamiliar but friendly voice next to them. “Mrs. Shin’s been talking non-stop about you.”
A middle-aged man gently pushed past them to the general and, as if breaking through some invisible barrier, picked up his wrist and began to count. Judging by the overcoat he wore he was a surgeon, likely from the garrison. But still it seemed to Mahrree an offense to Nature to disturb the tenuous bird.
Next to her Perrin fidgeted uncomfortably, also unsure of what to think or do next.
The surgeon nodded at them amiably, not noticing their reticence. “Pulse steady, but weak. Unchanged,” he reported. He glanced toward the study door, noticed they were alone, and said in a low voice, “About your mother, Lieutenant Colonel—I’m rather glad you’re all here. I haven’t been able to calm her since the tremor. She’s hardly slept in five days. I understand her grandchildren have come, too. It might do her some good to take them to the shops and spend some gold, just to get her mind on something else than sitting and fretting. Ma’am,” he nodded to Mahrree. “Get her some distractions, then convince her to at least take a nap?”
“I’ll do what I can,” Mahrree said.
“Doctor, what do you think?” Perrin asked, gesturing to his motionless father.
“I have hope,” the surgeon said cautiously. “We need to keep getting food and water into him, but he’s very weak. I’m not even sure that he’s fully regained consciousness yet. He opens his eyes, but can’t seem to communicate. Maybe some new voices will help.” He patted Perrin on the back.
Since the surgeon had touched the High General, it seemed obvious that was the next thing for them to do. Perrin released Mahrree’s hand and pulled a chair over to his father’s bedside. He sat and looked blankly at her for suggestions.
Mahrree tiptoed to the side of her father-in-law, picked up his limp hand, and put it in Perrin’s. “You’ll likely detect any movement first in his hand,” she explained. She didn’t know, really. It just struck her as a good idea.
Perrin smiled dismally at her and looked at his father’s hand. He cleared his throat roughly and announced, “Soldier, you’re on duty and out of uniform! When you come out of this, I’ll expect an answer for that.”
Mahrree smiled at her husband and squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll go check on the children and your mother. You stay here and keep berating him. It worked for Shem years ago, it just might work for him.”
“Except that officers,” murmured the surgeon as he lifted up Relf’s eyelids and peered into his unresponsive eyes, “never listen to anybody.”
Chapter 7 ~ “Finally found a way to get them to Idumea.”