by Trish Mercer
It was late when Perrin finally entered his bedroom to see his wife sitting in bed reading a book she’d borrowed from the study. She was sure the look on her face showed she wasn’t too engaged by Mace Tactics of the Middle Age.
“Your father settled in for the night?”
Perrin nodded from the door. “I think he’s going to struggle getting out of that bed of theirs, but he’s insisting. I told Mother to come get me if he gets stuck and can’t roll over.” He offered her half a smile.
She returned only a quarter of it, which really didn’t amount to anything. “Can you tell me what happened tonight, at dinner?”
He leaned against the door frame. “A family, each one with opinions and tempers to match, ate a meal and had a few words. Typical, I’m sure.”
“There was nothing typical about it!” she burst out. “And as for the walls not having ears? Oh, they do!”
“You mean Kindiri and the others?” He shrugged that away. “They didn’t hear anything.”
“Oh, really? Did you even see how pale Lieutenant Riplak was when you brought him in? For a young man so naturally brown, he was shockingly white. When you told him you needed help moving your father, I’m sure he thought he’d be moving a corpse with your long knife coming out of his chest. He was quite relieved to realize he just needed to help get him to a sofa in the gathering room so he could recline while enjoying his cake.”
Perrin frowned. “I thought Riplak seemed a bit reluctant when I retrieved him from the servants’ eating room. The others also seemed rather nervous—”
“Because he wasn’t the only one worried!” Mahrree told him. “As soon as you left with your father, Kindiri, the maids, and two of the stable boys peered through the door, likely wondering how many more bodies needed to be carted out. Kindiri seemed genuinely surprised we were all upright and talking normally, but she asked me later why I’d been crying.”
“Well, your eyes were rather puffy about that administrator business.” He continued more rapidly when Mahrree reddened with rage, “But I’m sure they didn’t hear what we said—”
“They heard the shouting!” she demonstrated. “And when men with blades shout, bloody things are sure to follow!”
Perrin blinked. “I’d never pull a knife or a sword on you,” he said, slightly hurt. “And my father rarely touches his long knife, and wears his sword only for show.”
“But they don’t know that, do they?” she gestured in the direction of the kitchen. “Besides,” she said more softly, her frustration being replaced by her true worry. “That’s not what I meant. What happened with us? We’ve had our squabbles, but I haven’t felt so angry at you since before we were married.” She refocused on the book, fighting back tears.
Perrin sighed and walked over to sit on the bed, but couldn’t find any space. “You know, you are allowed to move some of these pillows. I can’t understand the purpose of them.” He scowled as he sat down. “Make the bed look cluttered, and then no one sleeps on them? Waste of cloth and feathers. Some poor old naked goose somewhere—”
“Perrin,” Mahrree interrupted more boldly, and set down the shockingly dull book. “What’s going on with you here in Idumea? I feel like I hardly know you.”
He opened his mouth to make another smart diverting remark but closed it again. “I don’t know. Had a talk with my father while you were out earlier. He’s convinced we’re supposed to move here. Of course you heard him try to make me promise in front of the whole family that I would. Sneaky old wolf.” He inspected his boots.” I guess . . . I guess I just reverted back to using you as my reflection. I’ve been arguing in my mind all afternoon while Peto and I wandered around that absurd arena, then I threw those arguments at you to see what you’d say.” He finally looked up at her with apologetic eyes.
She nodded but said, “You promised you wouldn’t do that again, remember? The night after we got engaged you said you’d always be honest with me.”
He took her hand and rubbed one of her fingers with his thumb. “You’re right. I did. And, to be fair, I was honest tonight. A lot of those ideas were mine. It’s just . . . I feel like I have two minds sometimes. One that can find ways to rationalize and agree with the Administrators, and the other that tells me I should be doing something else and that I need to keep my distance.”
His rubbing became more forceful and Mahrree wished that he’d remember he never held her hand. She closed her other hand over his tense one. He immediately relaxed, to her finger’s relief.
“So you threw at me your ideas to see how I’d react. You know, Perrin, we could just talk about what’s bothering you. Everything doesn’t have to become a battle.”
He slowly smiled. “But battling is what I love best. Well, actually arguing.” He kissed her hand.
Mahrree sighed. “What happened at dinner was not arguing.” She resisted her usual tendency to give in to him and kiss him back. “That was a full-blown, all-out fight. Worse than the back garden sofa incident.”
He continued to study her small hand in his massive rough one. “You know, if you’d let me teach you to hold a sword, you could spar with me, and you’d find I’m the most easy-going man in the world.”
Mahrree wasn’t going to be shifted off topic. “If you’re bothered by something, talk to me about it.”
“And talking is what you love best.” He put down her hand as if suddenly bored with it.
“You already promised once, remember? Along with promising not to kill me?” She chanced a small smile. “And, Perrin, I must confess, there was a moment that I felt the desire to kill you tonight, so perhaps you better not teach me to hold a sword. I may actually use it someday.”
Perrin returned her smile. “I’ll try to do better to talk to you about issues that are bothering me,” he said dutifully.
Mahrree nodded. “Good. We can start with something easy.”
“What, tonight? Mahrree, it’s late—”
“Did you meet Cush’s grandson?”
Blandly, he said, “Yes.”
Mahrree paused. “You see, that’s not exactly talking. That’s just responding. Tell me . . . tell me what you thought of him.”
Perrin rolled his eyes. “That if I need my boots cleaned, he’s the man.”
“And . . . that’s what we call a commentary. Closer, but not quite what we need.”
“Mahrree, come on—”
“Please Perrin? I need something to distract me about your meeting tomorrow morning! Just . . . just talk to me about why you were in Edge with the Densals when you were eighteen. That shouldn’t be too difficult.”
“Obviously you have no concept of what is ‘difficult,’” Perrin groaned.
---
Morning came both too soon and not soon enough.
Perrin had another two hours before he’d march to the Administrators’ Headquarters near the university to present himself to the Administrators in their weekly meeting. He practiced the walk before breakfast as he paced from the west wing to the east and back again.
His father, supporting himself with a crutch and bracing himself against a pillar at the base of the long staircase, watched his son attempt to wear a groove in the oak floor.
“So do you know what you’re going to say?” he asked as Perrin passed by the fourth time, merely shining up his path.
“Not until I know what they’re going to say.”
The urgent knock at the front door startled both of them.
Perrin stepped up to answer it before a bored Riplak, still stationed in the study, could leap into his first action of the day. Sulkily the lieutenant leaned against the study’s doorframe while Perrin did guard duty.
A small man in a red uniform stood at the open door with a folded sheet of paper. “Lieutenant Colonel Shin, this is for you and to be read immediately.” He bowed, turned smartly, and left.
Mahrree, who had heard the knock, came from the eating room and stood next to the general by the stairs. “Maybe they’ve changed thei
r mind,” she murmured to him. “Maybe decided to go out for a ride in the countryside or something. You know, some kind of Administrative retreat?”
Perrin opened the message, and his face lost the ability to move as he silently read.
“I’m guessing it’s not the countryside,” the general said levelly with a glance to his daughter-in-law.
Perrin didn’t look up, but cleared his throat and read out loud. “The Administrators look forward to the visit of Lieutenant Colonel Perrin Shin this morning, and respectfully request that his wife, Mahrree Shin, accompany him to be presented to the Administrators as well.”
Up until that day, Perrin thought that only in poorly written dramas at the amphitheater did women fall to the floor in a dead faint.
But Riplak finally got some exercise by sprinting to the surgeon’s office.
---
“I’m sure it’s nothing. In fact, now more than ever I’m confident it’s to go over the menu for next week,” Perrin assured her uselessly as they walked through the tree canopied neighborhood past the mansions of Idumea.
Mahrree gripped his arm even tighter.
He paused. “Why don’t we go back and take Cush’s carriage. It’s all ready, and he said he wouldn’t be needing it for the next few hours. You’re still very pale.”
“No.” She pulled him along. “The walk will do me good. Get my blood flowing.
“Whatever blood you have left,” he mumbled.
She ignored him. It wasn’t that bad; it only looked bad, creating a puddle like that on the shiny floor. “You shouldn’t be worrying about me, anyway. It’s your poor father. I’m going to feel awful about that for years.”
“It’s fortunate you fell on his good leg.” He patted her hand consolingly and, since providing consolation wasn’t a frequent habit, his pat was rather firmer than it should be. Mahrree wished he’d stop trying to make her feel better.
“The surgeon said that had you hit his other leg you could have opened that gash again.”
Mahrree sighed. “Why’d he try to catch me? He should’ve just let me fall!”
“Instinct, I guess.”
“It wasn’t your instinct, apparently.” She nudged him.
“I thought he had you. For an old man, he’s still—”
Mahrree scoffed. “You thought he had me? The older man has broken ribs, nearly starved to death just last week, is crippled in his leg and you thought he could catch me? I think I’ve set him back at least a week in his recovery.”
“Well, now he really can’t dance at The Dinner,” Perrin said brightly. “He was happy about that. Besides, the crutch got its revenge. You can hardly see the gash. Creative bit of cover-up my mother did on you with those hair clips. If it starts bleeding again, though, we might have a problem.”
As they walked he inspected the long cut above her ear, barely visible behind the silverwork hair clips.
“Looks like that resin the surgeon used is holding it together quite well, which is fortunate. Stitching it would’ve been rather unpleasant this morning. Still, if it starts to spurt again, I’ve got extra bandages.” He patted a pocket of his uniform jacket.
Mahrree sighed. “If there’s a problem I’ll just tell everyone what General Cush said: I had a run-in with an old wolf and I won.” She tried to chuckle, but it stuck in her throat.
“That’s my wife!” Perrin again patted her forcefully on the hand that was wrapped tightly around his arm. “Good attitude. Think commanding thoughts.”
He was cheerful. Overly, unnaturally, and unnervingly cheerful, trying to balance his wife’s panic.
It didn’t help.
“A good half-hour’s walk,” said Perrin when Mahrree remained quiet. “That’s all you need. I’ll take you through the university. The gardens are just beginning to bloom. You’ll enjoy that.”
“Of course. Thank you. You know how I appreciate gardens.”
But she took the distraction. She was about to face the Administrators—the leaders she was sure were more manipulative and conniving than anyone in the world realized, and she was about to stand before all of them to . . .
Likely pass out again.
She should’ve just sent Perrin to Idumea alone—
Oh, that’s loyal. Send her husband alone to deal with the worry of his father and to face his greatest annoyance. Yes, what a faithful, loving wife she was. She groaned in silent admonishment and firmed her grip her husband’s bulging arm.
How did he walk with such confidence? Once, years ago, she thought him a coward, but that was only briefly until she realized she was a far greater coward.
She glanced up into his dark, clear eyes that focused straight ahead. His face was unreadable, but set and determined. How could she borrow some of that resolve?
There was so much she still didn’t to know about him, apparently. Last night’s discussion of his time in Edge as an eighteen-year-old certainly made that clear. It was almost as if there was the Perrin of Edge, and another Perrin of Idumea. She found herself longing for the Perrin of Edge.
Or maybe just longing to be back home again, and not walking in the middle of the Idumea ready to face the scariest men in the world.
Soon they left the neighborhoods of overly ambitious houses and gardens, and ambled across the common green to the university. The grand buildings had been constructed with stone, but many additions to the main building in the center had been completed in block. One of the newer buildings had attempted to do something else besides a square construction, making the classroom building look like a fort.
“You know, if might be a better idea if you would build the forts out of block than out of wood,” Mahrree said. “I know how you hate block, but block wouldn’t burn like wood.”
“I considered that, too,” Perrin said. “Realizing how quickly the marketplace burned. I’ll suggest block for forts if I’m groping for ways to make myself look valuable to the Administrators.”
Mahrree’s grip tightened again.
“Just a joke, Mahrree,” he said humorlessly. “It’s all right . . . Ah!” This time his tone brightened naturally. “My favorite old tree is still here.”
He eagerly led her over to the new distraction, a large oak tree. They stopped underneath and he pointed to some of the enormous branches.
“When I first saw that oak at the amphitheater in Edge, I immediately felt at home. It reminded me of this one. Another cadet and I used to climb this tree carrying some of the small hard breads they served in the hall. Nasty little things, like something Jaytsy would bake up. We would sit up there at night waiting for the students to meet the neighborhood girls. They’d sit under the trees to kiss, thinking no one could see them. That’s when we got in some target practice.” He chuckled.
Mahrree just marveled at yet another new thing revealed.
“The real trick was to sail the breads so that they didn’t hit any other branches and lose their trajectory. We knew we were successful when we heard a thud followed by a ‘Hey!’ I tried for the most ‘opportune’ moments, if you know what I mean. I like to think I save many girls those nights, even if I hit a few. They likely needed someone to knock some sense into them.”
Mahrree stared at him. “How is it we’ve been together for sixteen years and only now I’m finding out these things about you? What’s next? Did you used to be the youngest Administrator?”
He chuckled a little nervously. “I guess the surroundings just bring back the memories. I have to admit, not all of them were bad. There are some advantages to this place. Look at that statue.”
He pulled her along up a small hillside, his voice suddenly filled with youthful excitement.
“Isn’t it amazing? Took the sculptor three years to create that horse alone. And the rider on top? Another two years. What people can carve . . . I use my knife for the wrong things.”
Duly impressed, Mahrree gaped at the larger-than-life statue of King Querul the First carved out of dark stone, pe
rched on a horse that balanced on a wide pedestal.
“Sculptors!” she exclaimed. “I forgot they have sculptures here. I’ve never seen something so fantastic! You told me all about statues, but there’s nothing like this in Edge.”
“I know. I live there, remember?”
“We should bring the children to see this,” Mahrree breathed, moving closer to it. “I wonder that they keep a statue of him here, though. Doesn’t it bring up bad memories?”
“Well, that’s the point,” Perrin agreed as his wife gingerly touched the platform. Her eyes traveled all over the wondrous creation. “The statue’s here on the Command School grounds to remind students of the excesses and indulgence of King Querul and all those that followed him, to remind that we never want to have a king again. It’s here more as a memorial to the man who carved it, though. He died just as he finished it. Slept only a couple of hours a night for years as he worked, and spent all his time trying please the king. The sculptor was a friend of Terryp’s—”
Mahrree’s eyes widened.
“—and he was inspired by the carvings Terryp found at the ruins. He was the first one to attempt sculpting stone. Obviously he had a gift for it. This was his last and greatest masterpiece.”
Mahrree spun to look at Perrin, and her head swirled dizzily. “Oh, ow,” she muttered and held her temple, but the pain wasn’t enough to quell her enthusiasm. “The statue’s one hundred fifty years old? That’s ancient!”
She stepped onto the raised dais that held the platform for the horse. Tenderly she ran her hand up the horse’s back leg. “Do you realize what I’m doing? I’m touching the statue that was carved by a man who mostly likely shook hands with Terryp.”
Anything remotely connected to her favorite historian and adventurer was a fantastic and rare treat. She strained to touch the haunches of the horse and wished she had a way to reach the rider on top. The dark stone seemed soft somehow, perhaps because it was so smooth. She caressed the leg longingly and was about to move to the next when she heard her husband clear his throat.
“Uh, Mahrree? I don’t have any hard bread to throw at you right now, but if you’d like I could leave you two alone for a moment. But please remember, you are a married woman, and in a public place. Woman, just how much blood did you lose this morning, anyway?”
She reluctantly pulled her eyes away from the sculpture to shift her gaze to her husband. He was squinting, his lips parted, and his hands on his waist in complete bafflement. She absent-mindedly patted the rump of the black horse.
“And here I thought you hated horses.”
“Sorry,” she guffawed, but kept a hand on the horse’s perfectly chiseled knee. Or ankle. She wasn’t sure. “But really think about it, Perrin; this is a piece of our past—a tangible link to Terryp and those who lived at his time. And we can touch it, and see it, and know that others were most definitely here before us!”
“Yes,” Perrin said cautiously, as if evaluating a previously undiscovered creature.
“You don’t get it, do you?” she said. “It’s real! This connection links us to the Creator who was here! Terryp and his friend who carved this may have known someone whose grandfather had a grandmother who was one of the first five hundred families the Creator brought to this world. Something like this makes it all real!” She gripped the leg of the horse with both hands as if she could pry it loose and take it home with her.
Perrin’s squint turned into a wince.
“It’s so easy to forget the past, where we came from, who we are. But things like this reach back almost halfway in our time and link us—”
“All right, now you’re babbling,” Perrin interrupted her. He gently pried her fingers off the statue, leaving her flummoxed as if waking her from a vivid dream. “We really should’ve used Cush’s carriage.”
Taking her by the shoulders, he pivoted her into a new direction. “The last thing you need to do in front of the Administrators is babble uncontrollably.”
“Oh,” Mahrree said simply, coming around. “I almost forgot where we’re going.”
For the briefest of moments she was somewhere else, in a faraway dream that was actually real, a way to go back into history and—
“How much further?” she asked, trying to bring herself reluctantly into the dark present again.
“Over this rise between the two dorms you’ll be able to see the Headquarters. Are you all right, I mean, in the head and everything?” He looked at her askance. “Because this really wouldn’t be a good time to—”
“I’m fine, really.” She patted his arm. “I’m sorry about that back there. I just really didn't expect to see something like that statue. I guess there are all kinds of surprises I never knew about in Idumea.”
“Well, if all goes well this morning, my mother has plenty of more surprises for you in the afternoon,” he said in a mollifying tone.
“And if things don’t go well?”
Perrin was silent as they started walking up the rock steps to the top of the small rise. “I really don’t know, honestly. But I feel things will be fine. Don’t you?”
Mahrree nodded. “And last night I said people who act solely on their feelings are thoughtless. But that’s all I have to go on right now, and I feel calm. Maybe it’s the blood loss.” She chuckled as they crested the hill, where she stopped and gasped.
“Oh, my.” She rooted herself to the ground to take in the view.
She’d expected the Administrative Headquarters to appear as dreary and dull as the schools in Edge: gray block walls, the death of all imagination. But what lay before her was astonishing.
The building itself was enormous, only a few minutes’ walk down the small hill, three full levels high, extending on either side of the main doorways, almost like the Shin home—probably because they were both designed by King Oren—but enlarged exponentially. Great columns, eleven on either side of the doorways, were carved out of white stone and helped support the triangular roof which peaked and extended over the front of the building.
The rocks used in the construction of the walls themselves were unusual shades of red and orange, set in precise patterns. Only from the distance of the hillside could the design be fully appreciated; the whole of the walls was a warm orange, with a swirling maze of deeper reds like curling tendrils that led the eye from one end of the building to the other. It was if an enormous and lush burgundy vine had gently grown over the pumpkin colored building.
The peak of the roof held a large triangle of white stone, its surface carved in a similarly swirling pattern. Each level had a row of tall windows edged in white carved rock to repeat the stone of the pillars. A long cobblestone drive led up to the great front doors and the dozen broad white steps.
Swarms of people went up and down the steps and through the massive double oak doors. Carriages and coaches disgorged their travelers before the white stairs, and vehicles traveling the opposite direction sucked them back up again, giving the impression of streams of ants arriving and leaving a grand pumpkin festival.
“It’s beautiful!” Mahrree whispered, unable to walk any further.
“Hm, I suppose,” Perrin said casually.
“Really? That’s all you can say?”
“Well, I remember watching them build it when I was at the university. King Oren started it but ran out of support to finish it. When the Administrators came to power they completed it as their headquarters. I guess the mystique of the place has worn off on me over the years. Still, there isn’t anything in Edge to compare with it, now is there?”
“Absolutely not!” Mahrree said. The building was so warm, so beautiful—how could it hold anything fearsome?
“Are you about ready, because . . .” Perrin glanced at the sun.
“Yes! Of course,” said Mahrree, eager to get a closer look.
She forgot why they were going to the building as they made their way down the hill and across the busy drive where they dodged horses and carriages. Trees
lined the road and the grasses underneath them were cut in a surprisingly uniform manner, leading them naturally to the steps of the Headquarters.
At the top of the stairs stood a man in a deep red jacket with tails, a white shirt with ruffles at the throat, and black trousers. His dark-brown skin was gently wrinkled with age, and while he wasn’t unpleasant looking, Mahrree still encountered a new level of dread.
Now she remembered why they were there.
The man eyed the Shins as they began to climb the steps, and he positioned himself to be at the top of their progress. Everyone else respectfully skirted around him.
“Lieutenant Colonel Shin, Mrs. Shin I presume?” He held his hand out to shake Perrin’s as they neared.
Mahrree swallowed hard as her husband easily answered him. “Yes, sir. I hope we’re not late.”
“Of course not. Perfectly on time. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t get lost along your way. I’m Administrator Giyak.” He afforded Mahrree a bit of a smile. “Ma’am. Would you two please follow me?”
Mahrree was suddenly gripped with fear. It came upon her without warning, and she wondered if she was the only one who felt it. She looked up at Perrin for reassurance, but he was in full army mode. He looked straight ahead and pulled Mahrree along toward the large front doors that were held open by two porters.
Inside the doors was a great hall with polished stone flooring. White with gray streaks and swirling lines, it reflected the light that poured into the windows. The effect was dazzling and dizzying.
Mahrree quickly looked around her, feeling her head swoon again with amazement, trepidation, and earlier concussion.
All along the great hall to her right and left were tall doors spaced evenly apart. Dozens of people walked briskly from one great door to another, illuminated by the tall windows opposite of them. She realized that when the sun hit just right, each large wooden door would be shadowed by one of the pillars outside.
Over some of the doors nearest her she saw the titles painted in what looked like gold. Administrator of Transportation. Administrator of Education. Administrator of Agriculture. Administrator of Commerce. Administrator of Family Life. Interspersed between those doors were others with just the names of the Administrators and no titles. Twelve men were over specific concerns in the government, while the other ten were Administrators in general, filling seats in committees and keeping an eye on the other twelve.
And somewhere was Chairman Mal’s office.
Mahrree frequently imagined scenarios in her head of how things should happen, and they never occurred as she planned. Usually things turned out better, or duller, or just plain anticlimactic.
Then there were rare days like this, which turned out far worse than she ever could’ve imagined. She really needed to stop trying to predict the future. Somehow the future always found out about her guesses and did all in its power to thwart her. No scenario she’d imagined on the long coach ride to Idumea ever came up with finding herself on the way to the Conference Room of the Administrators.
She stared at a large stone staircase that rose in the middle of the hallway, again like the Shins’ home, leading to unknown offices upstairs. She surmised her letter readers sat at the very top of the third level in an attic-like room, dank and hot and cramped, where the junior letter skimmers sweated over yet another copy of another letter to another hopeful writer. Had Mahrree not been so worried about what was coming, she might have felt some sympathy for them.
Perrin pulled her down the hall to the right toward two sets of double doors. Above them read the words ‘Main Conference Room’ in gold.
Administrator Giyak said nothing as he snaked through the crowds of people, glancing back occasionally to make sure his guests were keeping up. The doors, twice as tall as any man, opened automatically as he approached, and only once they were past a large group of men in dark coats did Mahrree see two men in red uniforms, similar to what the messengers wore, holding open the doors.
She took a deep breath and looked again at her husband. He seemed to notice nothing as he followed the Administrator through the doors. They found themselves in a large room lined with sofas and chairs, woven in the same pattern as the orange and red stonework mosaic outside.
Giyak turned and said to Mahrree, “You’ll wait here, please. I’ll return for you in a moment.” His face was kind, but his tone insistent as he gestured to a large orange and red-tendrilled sofa.
A wide desk sat by the next set of doors, and a man in a dark red jacket but no ruffles nodded to the Administrator. “I have it,” he said. “Mrs. Mahrree Shin, correct?” Another younger man sitting next to him wrote carefully in a thick ledger.
Mahrree looked nervously at them and tried to smile. The first man nodded politely to her. Perrin released her arm, nodded to her officially, then pointed to the sofa. Mahrree swallowed hard and sat on the surprisingly firm and uncomfortable cushion.
Another porter opened the second set of doors, obscuring Mahrree’s view. He announced, “The Administrator of Security with Lieutenant Colonel Perrin Shin.” With that the two men stepped through the door into the unseen room, and the porter shut the door behind him.
Mahrree felt something ugly and painful grow in her stomach. Administrator of Security?
Our security has been infiltrated. That’s what her father-in-law said last night, and now those words were big and blobby in her mind.
But we’ve done nothing wrong, she thought defensively.
All right, she had to admit to the part of her brain that had mastered the admonishing one-arched eyebrow, we’ve bent the rules a little on how I teach the students, and Perrin allowed debates for as long as he could.
She rummaged through her mind trying to uncover anything else she’d conveniently forgotten, like filthy and torn socks shoved under the dresser.
She’d written letters, but not for a few years. And there were the debates they held at home with the children. And their heated dinner discussions, such as last night. And then there was her husband’s disloyal grumblings to her, and her complaints to him about the state of the world.
That was all. Maybe.
As she considered the pile, she realized there was a lot of dirty laundry she’d ignored over the years.
She strained to hear anything that could be happening behind those massive double doors, and wondered if the men behind the desk were armed guards, waiting for their moment. She didn’t dare look at them again, just in case they were watching her for the slightest hint that she was a security threat.
Our security has been threatened—
She wished she had told Perrin she loved him before he went through them. What if it was the last time she saw him—
Stop it.
The words sounded like her father.
Just stop it, Mahrree. Now you’re being ridiculous. Consider that the Administer of Security was sent to make sure you arrived securely? Stop letting your imagination run away on you. Since when do you behave so childishly? You’re a grown woman, a wife, and a mother. Now act the part.
Her father’s words didn’t do much to calm her worry, but instead added a layer of guilt for being so silly; a tender cosmic slap upside the head she knew she needed.
She rolled her eyes at herself, shook her head a little, and offered a silent prayer.
Dear Creator, please, please let this go well. We haven’t done anything really wrong but talk, have we?
For fifteen minutes she sat there, feeling the long cut on her head stinging, the ugly blob in her belly overtaking her intestines, and worrying that she would lose consciousness again—
That might be a good idea, she realized. Pass out on the
sofa. Get the sympathy of the Administrators.
She ran through a few scenarios of how to knock herself out—all of them more painful than she wanted to really attempt—and was just beginning to wonder how long she’d have to hold her breath when the heavy doors swung open with an
unintended bang.
Mahrree jumped a little as Perrin stepped through and turned immediately to her. He was smiling.
“It’s good, it’s all good,” he whispered as he pulled her to her feet. “Just smile and nod. Smile and nod.”
Administrator Giyak stood at the door with a small smile on his face too.
Riding on a cautious wave of relief, Mahrree allowed Perrin to lead her through the large doors. She stopped when she found herself facing an enormous and strangely shaped table.
Several oaks must have been used to create the shape. It was like a large raindrop, pushed flat at the top and bottom. At the top peak, directly across from Mahrree, was a man older than General Shin. Slender with white hair that seemed easily rumpled, he had more ruffles on his shirt than Mahrree could’ve imagined would fit there. His elbows were on the table and his hands were clasped in front him, waiting.
Men in red jackets and ruffled shirts sat on either side of him around the table as it gently curved away to the large open section where Mahrree stood. Each man could view the others, but it was clear who was the Chairman of the Administrators. Light streamed in from the tall windows to Mahrree’s left, the back side of Headquarters, bathing the shiny table and the Administrators in sunlight.
Mahrree’s gaze traveled briefly across each man, and she remembered she’d taught her students all of their suspiciously similar biographies. But discerning one ruffled senior-aged pot belly from another? If they didn’t have little pieces of polished wood with their names in gold in front of them, she wondered if they could tell each other apart. Even though their skins were various shades of dirt, ranging from pale gravel to deep brown, they all had a sameness about them that was hard to pin down. It was as if they all knew something more than anyone else, and it showed on their hardened faces that, for the moment, were trying to appear cordial.
She felt all twenty-three pairs of eyes examining her back. In none of her daydreams—or day-nightmares—had she anticipated anything quite like this. Perrin positioned himself right behind her, perhaps to catch her if she swooned again.
Chairman Nicko Mal, as declared by the wooden sign in front of him which was a bit larger than anyone else’s, cleared his throat to draw her attention back to him. “Mrs. Mahrree Shin, I understand this is your first trip to Idumea? How are you enjoying your visit so far?”
Mahrree didn’t realize she would have to speak. Perrin had just said smile and nod. She opened her mouth dumbly and suddenly felt a sharp poke in her back from Perrin.
“Ah, wonderful,” she said quickly. “Many things I’ve never seen before. This building is quite amazing, for example—” She felt another sharp poke telling her it was enough, and she pressed her lips shut.
The Chairman nodded courteously. “I’m glad to hear our old friend General Shin is recuperating. Although I understand Relf had a bit of a spill this morning?”
Mahrree’s eyes widened at his unexpected knowledge. “Yes, sir. Seems he lost his balance on his crutch,” she lied to the Chairman of the Administrators. “He’s in good spirits, though.”
She wasn’t. She had just lied to the Chairman of the Administrators!
Chairman Mal only smiled thinly. “Good, good. I see he found a way to avoid dancing next week. Clever man.”
Mahrree didn’t know if that required a response or not. When Perrin didn’t jab her, she obediently smiled and nodded.
“Mrs. Shin, you’re probably wondering why we’ve requested to see you this morning.”
“Yes sir?” She nearly choked on the words.
The Chairman looked at the Administrator of Security and nodded once. The Administrator had remained next to the lieutenant colonel and now turned to Mahrree with an official smile.
“It has been relayed to us that when the land tremor hit Edge, many people were in a panic, disoriented, and unsure of what to do. While Lieutenant Colonel Shin went to the fort to organize the rescue and recovery efforts, you organized your own little army of sorts, giving commands to neighborhoods, beginning searches for survivors, and creating maps of the damage. For your willingness to take control of the situation, enabling your husband to better complete his duty to Edge, the Administrators wish to present you with this Certificate of Appreciation.”
He finished his rambling speech by holding out a thick piece of parchment with writing in black and gold.
Mahrree was stunned motionless. Perrin had to jab her three times before she composed herself enough to take it from his hands.
“Thank you,” she murmured, staring at the certificate.
“As Administer of Security it’s my job to make sure the homes and land of the citizens of Idumea and the world are secured and protected in time of crisis or calamity. The recent land tremor and quaking has shown many ways in which the citizens are unprepared and disorganized, and it is my desire and intent to develop and implement preparedness programs throughout the world to improve and help the situation.”
Mahrree stared at him, picking out his important words and discarding the rest. She was struck by the thought that this man might be useful . . .
“We intend to borrow some of the village and neighborhood organizational strategies and procedures you created, devised, used, and implemented in order to facilitate, improve, and increase the reaction and response time in the event or occurrence of another disaster and/or emergency.”
Having followed all of his extra words without stumbling, Mahrree felt a surge of confidence. “If you’d like, Administrator, I could write up all that we did in Edge and have it delivered to you,” she blurted out. Then, realizing that she was only to smile and nod, she added lamely, “If it would help.”
Perrin poked her back, a bit belatedly, but with a great deal of warning packed into the tip of his finger.
To her surprise, Giyak broke away from the official smile and tried on a real one. “Yes, yes actually I’d appreciate that. Excellent idea.”
“I have some other ideas as well,” Mahrree plowed on, ignoring the incessant jabbing in her back. She had to say the words—they were burning so hot in her chest she’d begin smoking if she didn’t. When, ever, would she have such an opportunity again? “You see, by the fourth day we still had people at our home in the morning, begging us to tell them what to do.”
“Really?” asked another administrator who scowled severely. “Where were the soldiers?” He glared at Perrin.
Mahrree answered for him, taking a step closer to the table to give her back a rest from the pokes. “Far too busy, sir. Much of the commerce section of Edge burned to the ground the first day, but the lieutenant colonel and his men successfully prevented it from spreading to the homes. I’m sure you’d agree a fire would’ve been a far greater disaster.”
Several of the Administrators nodded.
Mahrree noticed that one of them watched her earnestly, and he caught her gaze and held it. A small smile grew on his face as he nodded additional encouragement. He raised his eyebrows and parted his lips slightly as if to prod her to continue. The glare of sunshine bounced off his nameplate, but Mahrree could make out ‘Family Life.’
Emboldened by the support, she continued, despite the less-than-subtle throat clearing of her husband behind her. If he needed a drink of water, he should leave to get one.
“After the fires, every soldier was on detail to remove rubble and assist citizens. With all due respect, I haven’t seen nearly the level of destruction here as we experienced in Edge,” Mahrree explained. “Every house was affected. We even left ours damaged and exposed to the elements to come to Idumea. Each soldier has been working double shifts to attend to everyone’s needs. The soldiers are now rebuilding houses with the citizens as quickly as possible.”
“Yes, we’ve heard a bit of that plan too,” Giyak told her. “We wanted to hear it all from the colonel, here. That’s why we invited him . . . and you. We’re very impressed.” When he was out of his official mode, he spoke more succinctly.
Mahrree nodded and breathed comfortably, despite hearing Perrin take a small step closer to her to get back into poking position.
“Thank you, Administrator. But I didn’t get to my point that I wanted to make.” She took another judicious step forward out of stabbing range and bumped the table in front of her. Her chest sizzled with unspoken words.
“What concerned me about the citizens, and I’m sure would concern each of you as well, is that no one seemed to know what to do. No one could discover for themselves how to evaluate damage, or assess what needed to be done first. No one dared make a decision. Everyone just wanted the soldiers to come rescue them or tell them what to do.”
“Do you see that as a problem, Mrs. Shin?” asked another Administrator whose name Mahrree couldn’t make out because the name plate was at the wrong angle. She couldn’t tell if his tone was accusatory or concerned.
“Only when all of the soldiers are busy helping others, sir. Edge loves the fort and appreciates the presence of the soldiers. But there are only so many of them to go around. What I think needs to happen, Administrator,” she turned back to Giyak, “is that people need to be taught how to help themselves in a crisis.”
“Well that’s what we’re hoping to accomplish, Mrs. Shin,” he assured her. “We are putting together a step-by-step plan that will help the citizens see exactly what to do in every situation.”
Mahrree nodded slowly. “Sounds like it has great potential,” she said. “But I wonder—”
She felt her husband suddenly at her side, followed by the most severe stab yet, up under her ribs, making her breath catch in her throat.
Effective, she thought, but not enough, Perrin. She kept her face as placid as possible, because there was still more that had to be said. “I wonder, sir, how can you account for every single scenario? Can you create enough different plans to account for every kind of problem citizens may encounter?”
“Most likely not,” Giyak admitted.
“So then, sir, instead of creating plans for each scenario, why not teach the people to think for themselves? Give them some guidelines, yes, but also allow forums for people to discuss problems and share their ideas?”
The Administrator looked at her for a moment. “A forum, you say. In every village perhaps? I must consider that.”
Mahrree beamed, feeling the intense rush that accompanies the realization that people in power are actually listening. “Please do, sir. It’d be similar to what we used to have, at after-congregation meals, when people talked with each other instead of watching some silly show at the amphitheater. Because after all, I can’t imagine you would want an entire populace that relies on the Administrators and the forts to make every decision for them.”
And . . . just that quickly, her confidence vanished as twenty-three pairs of eyes glared at her.
Perrin didn’t even need to stab her. She’d gone too far, she knew it. She’d been dancing merrily and safely, then suddenly ran headlong over a cliff.
There was still sun shining in the room, but the warmth of it was gone. A cold darkness had come instead, and the light left the Administrator of Security’s eyes. His smile remained, but frozen in place. “Yes, indeed. That would be a problem.”
Someone coughed, and across the room a chair scritched the stone floor as it was repositioned. And then there was only silence.
No, Mahrree realized with growing horror. That’s not a problem. That’s their solution: a population that can’t think for themselves but blindly follows their leaders. Because when people stop thinking, they become passive.
She remembered the day of the land tremor when her neighbors gathered around her like lost toddlers, because they were. The Administrators had positioned themselves as Parents of the World, never wanting their Children to move on to lives of their own. The Children wanted someone to make their decisions, to alleviate them of all responsibility, and it was the Administrators who greedily took everything.
She’d hit it directly on the head, and didn’t even realize she was swinging. What she’d suspected for so many years was now verified in the presence of the very men who implemented it: people who don’t debate don’t think.
And when they don’t think, they don’t question their leaders except to ask, “What do you want me to do next?”
She heard Perrin’s breathing right behind her, and thought she heard him hiss, “Mahrree!”
Smile, smile!
It was her father, nudging her. Mahrree formed a large smile and tried to think of the most innocent and motherly thoughts she could, hoping they’d reflect on her face. Kittens. Fresh baked bread. Kisses on the forehead. Laughing babies.
SMILE!
It must have worked, because the frozen appearance of Administrator Giyak began to melt, his eyes brightened again, and his smile became genuine. “Mrs. Shin, I look forward to your information. When do you think you may have it ready?”
Mahrree took the reprieve offered her as the room slowly—
warily—warmed up again. “Would tomorrow be satisfactory?”
“Yes, yes, of course! My goodness. That is prompt. I don’t think we’ll have a plan for a few more seasons, you understand, it having to go through committees then sub-committees then be approved by all the Administrators—”
He stopped abruptly. A twitching near his eye suggested he’d just received a poke in the back, but Perrin was nowhere within stabbing distance. But another administrator was.
The Administrator of Security recovered quickly. “Your information will undoubtedly help. And I thank you again for coming.” He extended his hand to her. “You’ve done great things for Edge, you and your fine husband. Congratulations again, Colonel Shin.”
Just keep smiling, she thought as she shook his hand. Keep smiling.
A gentle throat clearing from the head of the table turned her back to face Chairman Mal. His position had not changed at all during the discussion; his hands still remained clasped in front of him. “Thank you for coming, Mrs. Shin. I hope you’ll have the opportunity to tour all of Idumea. I suspect your in-laws hope your presence here will be permanent. Perhaps we should see what we could do to help facilitate that.”
Despite all that had just transpired, Mahrree couldn’t stop herself. “We’re quite happy in Edge, Mr. Chairman. Please don’t go to any trouble on our account.”
The Chairman’s thin smile returned. “It’d be no trouble at all, Mrs. Shin. We like to keep our family close to us. Especially such interesting ones.” He nodded once to dismiss them.
Mahrree had never been so grateful to exit a room. She turned around and felt Perrin’s hand in the small of her back, gently pushing her, but unnecessarily. The doors swung open for them, and as they reached the waiting room Mahrree expelled a big breath.
“Not yet,” Perrin snarled in her ear. “Say nothing. Just get out.”
He continued to push her through the waiting room to the crowded corridor, nudging her through the throngs of people that barely moved away in time. When they reached the large main doors he instead continued to direct her to the opposite hall.
With growing dread she asked him, “Where are we going?”
He came to her side and gripped her arm tightly. “There’s one more office you need to see.” The growl in his voice startled her.
The crowds were substantially thinner here on this side of the building, and several paces before the last door of the great hallway no one milled about, or even stood, as if an invisible shield kept away all intelligent life from approaching too closely. And if someone did near it, it’d whisper, Turn around now and run.
Mahrree imagined she heard the warning, but her husband obviously didn’t. Perrin stopped abruptly and turned his wife to face the final door. The gold words above it proclaimed, Administrator of Loyalty.
“That, Mrs. Shin,” his voice was cold and angry and quiet, “is the next door you’ll walk through if you don’t learn to control that tongue of yours!”
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Tears of frustration and anger filled her eyes. “Nothing happened!” she whispered fiercely back. “I just gave them some ideas, and, and . . .”
He spun her to face him, and he looked around briefly to see if anyone was watching. If they were, they did so only out of the corners of their eyes, which was the only way anyone ever looked toward Gadiman’s door.
Perrin yanked his wife to a corner and pushed her right into it. The back of her head banged the stone wall, but he didn’t seem to notice her wincing.
He stooped down to look her straight in the eyes. “You just stood in front of all the Administrators and Chairman Mal and revealed to them you can see that they are trying to control the world. You really think they’re just going to let that go?”
Mahrree ignored her new headache and murmured, “I didn’t say that.”
“Not in so many words, but yes, you did!” he snapped. “What’s wrong with you? Smile and nod. That’s what I told you. Didn’t you even feel me poking you? You’re lucky I put my long knife in my boot instead of my waistband today!”
Mahrree stared into her husband’s eyes that looked like black stone. She wouldn’t back down. Not today. “I said what needed to be said. Don’t I need to do my duty, no matter the consequences? I had the whole of the government in front of me. All I suggested was for them to help people respond better in a crisis situation. If they read more into it than that, that’s not my fault. I did nothing wrong.”
She ran the entire discussion in the main conference room through her mind. It was fine; she was sure of it. The words flowed easily as if she was prompted, and many of the Administrators were smiling and nodding to her, especially the one that was bald, had very warm eyes, and may have been Doctor Brisack.
There was just a lull in the conversation, that was all. Lulls are always uncomfortable.
Perrin’s jaw was working on something. He stood straight again and looked at the cut stone wall next to him, as if ready to interrogate it. He glanced behind him to the corridor, where a dozen people many paces away suddenly began to move as if they’d just remembered they had somewhere important to go.
Perrin turned back to his wife. “Let’s get out of here. We need to . . . talk.”
He gripped her again, digging his fingers into the space between the muscles of her upper arm. She gulped as he steered her through the crowd, and noticed most people jumped out of his way before they even reached them. She didn’t dare look at his face to see what everyone else saw to make them scatter, but a few people tossed her glances of sympathy.
Out the doors, down the steps, and through the grassy fields they marched in heated silence, then up over to the campus and to a large stand of trees.
Perrin finally released her in the small clearing in the middle of them, then looked around him and above to make sure no one was near.
Mahrree sat worriedly on a stump and waited for him to slow his pacing around her.
“I can’t think here,” he muttered as he passed in front of her.
She was about to suggest they go somewhere else, but realized he wasn’t talking to her.
He walked in a circle around her stump, scanning the area as he did so. “I can’t focus, I can’t see clearly. I can’t separate the two. I feel like I’m suffocating.”
Mahrree twisted to watch him walk and mutter. He looked down, around, at her, toward the Headquarters building, and down again. He reminded her of a restless bobcat a neighbor had once caught in his garden and caged to release to the forest. It was so agitated they fed it mead until it was drunk, just to be able to pick up the cage without it thrashing wildly about. Mahrree pressed her lips together and, for the first time in her life, wondered where she could buy some mead.
She fingered the fancy parchment in her hands, aware that she was crinkling the edges of the gold-gilded and black-scripted acknowledgement. She didn’t need to be awarded some meaningless scrap. She took care of Edge because Edge was her home, and it was the right thing to do. It didn’t matter if the parchment wrinkled in her nervous hands. She already knew exactly where it was going once they got home: on the same shelf as Perrin’s Officer of the Year awards and his numerous commendations from the Administrators. She could slip this in between them where it, too, would never again see the light of day.
She’d never reveal it to her mother, either. Hycymum would devise a way to encase it in wood and glass and insist on having it displayed on their mantelpiece. Then she’d also insist that their home wasn’t grand enough for such a piece of parchment, but that the Edge of Idumea Estates had a few very large homes available that could accommodate it.
As Mahrree watched her husband circle and mumble, she was tempted to tear the parchment in two and shove it under a rock. Maybe the parchment, or her, or both of them were contributing to his mild insanity.
“I can’t continue like this. I can’t decide who to be,” he continued mumbling. “I’ve got to get out of here, but I can’t go anywhere. Just work around, just work around. Can still do good here, just work around . . .”
Mahrree sat in silence. This was hardly the time to point out that ‘talking’ involved two people exchanging information. She wasn’t sure if she preferred this madman murmuring around her to their shouting matches. As she listened to him muttering, she wisely abstained from commenting. See? she thought, I can keep quiet when needed.
He stopped unexpectedly and stared just beyond her. His mind was working on something that didn’t reach his mouth. A flurry of ideas seemed to pass across his face as his eyes shifted erratically. The shifting slowed, the flurry seemed to die down, and he released a deep breath.
Finally he dropped to his knees and stared dully at her hands on her lap, holding the parchment. “You were right. You were absolutely right. If anyone heard more than what you said, it would’ve been Gadiman. And no one likes to pay much attention to him anyway.” He slumped to a sitting position.
Mahrree reached out and touched his shoulder experimentally.
He startled her by grabbing her hand, kissing it, and looking into her eyes. “I know I’ve said this before, but—”
Mahrree smiled and said it with him. “I really hate Idumea.”
He laughed softly before sobering. “I’m so sorry. I said nothing to assist you back there. Then again, you didn’t really give me an opening.”
Mahrree looked down guiltily. “I think I was a little too excited by the power in that room. I felt it and grabbed it and started babbling just like you feared I would.”
“But you didn’t babble,” he assured her. “You did very well. Most people feel the weighty influence of those men and lose their nerve. Honestly, I thought you would too, but you didn’t.” A smile came across his face. “You were quite articulate, even with me jabbing you. Once I got over the shock of what you were saying, I thought to myself, That’s my wife! My wife,” He kissed her hand again.
Mahrree grinned proudly, but her smile soon faded. “Perrin, did I really just accuse all of the Administrators of being no better than the kings?”
To her surprise, Perrin’s face became lighter and he grinned. “Yes, my darling wife, I think you really did! Not in those exact words, to be sure, but still.” He was smiling broadly now. “I can’t take you anywhere, can I?”
Mahrree covered her face with her hands, letting the parchment drop to the ground. “Oh, no . . . what have I done?”
“As I said before, I don’t think they really heard it.” He pulled her hands from her face. “And if they did, they’ll think nothing of it. You’re just a simple wife from a little village. You know what I mean—don’t give me that look. You just stabbed in the dark and hit something. They’ll think it’s ironic or funny and forget about it by midday meal. You really are something else, you know that? What that something else is, I’ve yet to figure out.”
That made her smile and even chuckle. He was her husband again—wholly, completely hers.
“I’ve noticed somet
hing about the way we work,” she said. “When you rant and rave, that’s when I’m stunned to silence.” She made a circling motion around herself to remind him of his behavior a few minutes ago, and Perrin shrugged apologetically. “And when I can’t seem to shut my mouth, that’s when you shut yours.”
“If I don’t say anything it’s because I’m surprised that you are,” he said. “Besides, one of us has to keep a cool head about them.”
“You keep a cool head?” Mahrree scoffed, and then reconsidered. “Actually, you do, quite often. Except in that corridor down there. You hit the back of my head! Don’t you think it’s been through enough today already?”
He stood quickly, bent over her, and kissed the back of her head. “I’m sorry,” he said as he kneeled down in front of her again. “Better?”
Mahrree scrunched her nose. “That’s the best you can do?”
“Of course not.” He grinned. “Besides, I always wanted to do this here. I think I was jealous of all those students years ago.”
He rose up on his knees, leaned in to her . . . paused and surveyed the trees above them . . . and, convinced they were alone, he kissed her long enough for someone to run to the mess hall and retrieve the hard bread.
They walked back to the mansion a while later, talking and laughing easily. Perrin had the parchment folded in his jacket pocket and out of sight. In some ways it was almost possible to like Idumea, Mahrree decided. They’d faced their biggest fear and walked out of there commended. No one would remember her words, and she was perfectly fine with that.
She was still the anonymous wife of Perrin Shin, and she’d never have to see any of those men again, except for a few maybe at The Dinner. But they’d be more interested in talking to the High General than to her, and then they could go back home to Edge and live happily ever after.
“I almost forgot,” Perrin broke into her thoughts, “when we go out this afternoon with my mother I need pick up some new uniforms.”
“Why? What’s wrong with this one?”
“Well, they changed the color to a deeper blue, you see, and since I need some new insignias on the jacket anyway, I might as well just get the whole package.”
“Wait a minute . . . the Administrator said ‘Congratulations Colonel Shin’, didn’t he?” She squeezed his arm.
“Still has to be approved, you know,” he smiled almost bashfully. “But I’ve never known an Administrative directive being overturned by the army.”
“And who is to approve the promotion?” Mahrree smiled back, already knowing.
“The High General and his Advising General. I have a feeling that’s why Cush was here this morning, to officially sign the papers.”
“Time for the brass buttons now, right? You realize that with this promotion you’re one step closer to the next ranking.”
He sighed. “I could be a colonel for many years still. No one’s promoted to general in less than two years.”
“Not even Relf’s son?”
Perrin grumbled.
“You realize now you really do have to go to that dinner, Colonel.”
“I’m praying for another land tremor,” he murmured as he looked sideways at her. Abruptly he stopped walking and focused his gaze just beyond her.
“I nearly forgot,” he whispered. “How could I forget?”
Mahrree looked around, perplexed. “Forget what, Perrin?”
He nodded down a road she hadn’t noticed. “Feel up for taking a short detour?”
Mahrree turned to what direction he was facing and gasped. “What in the world is that?”
“Take one guess.”
She shook her head. “If your parents live in the second largest mansion in the world, then that must be the largest!”
It filled the entire road, ending it several hundred paces down from them. She hadn’t noticed it on their way to the Administrative Headquarters because of her preoccupation, but now she couldn’t image how they missed it. They passed a few exceptionally large houses, nearly as grand as the Shins and formerly the homes of the kings’ family, advisors—and in one case, a favored mistress, as Mahrree remembered—that lined the road leading to the mansion. But as Perrin led Mahrree down one side of the road, she could barely take in the other houses he told her now belonged to some of the Administrators. All she could see was the mansion.
Mansion wasn’t a big enough word. It was crafted out of white stone so precisely cut and fitted that the first stone cutters certainly got plenty of experience trimming thousands of rocks. Larger than the Shins’ home, it stood three stories high, and was more than two times deeper than the Shins,’ Perrin told her. There were only a few narrow windows facing the road, however, which Mahrree thought peculiar. She also could see just the front of the building as they approached the tall iron gates locked in front of it. The rest of the building was obscured by mature trees and thick shrubs.
“Beautiful, but cold,” Mahrree muttered to her husband. “Can’t really see in or out, can you?”
“That’s the point,” Perrin told her.
They stopped in front of the gates, still a few hundred paces away from the house. The four soldiers manning the gates, two inside and two out, stared past them as if they were simply curious squirrels.
“Can’t get any closer without an invitation,” Perrin whispered to Mahrree. “But this wasn’t what I wanted to show you. Come with me.”
He gently pulled her away from the gates, and Mahrree could feel the eyes of the guards following them, because even squirrels may be a threat.
Perrin followed the high stone wall that created the perimeter of the compound, enclosing a massive area. The barrier turned a corner, they followed it, and soon they were in the relative privacy of the dense bushes that hugged the wall. Perrin glanced around to make sure no one was watching.
“Well?” Mahrree asked.
“Do you realize what this is?” He patted the stacked and mortared rocks.
“A wall,” she answered lamely, looking up to see the top of it about twelve feet high.
“But do you remember what this kept in?”
“Kept in . . .?” Then she mimicked her husband five minutes earlier. “I nearly forgot! How could I forget?” She spun to look at the barrier and sighed. “Querul’s servants!”
“Slaves,” Perrin whispered.
Mahrree nodded. “Those thirty-three servants, kept behind this stone wall, for three generations! Oh, Perrin—I haven’t thought of them for years.”
“Nor have I,” he confessed. “One of the greatest travesties of the reign of kings—that they kept their servants locked behind these walls and ignorant of the world around them—and I didn’t remember until just now.”
“I think the world wants us to forget,” Mahrree said. “There were only a few of us that knew, too. My father heard about it from the man who helped teach them how to function in the world again. You knew it because your grandfather told you about his liberating them.”
“Never forget,” Perrin sighed sadly. “That’s what Pere told me. ‘Perrin, never forget them, how they were imprisoned by those who claimed to protect them.’ I’m so sorry, Grandfather. I haven’t even told my children about them.”
“We’ll remedy that,” Mahrree assured him. “As soon as we have some quiet moments. Pere’s probably the one who turned you to see this again.”
Perrin nodded. “I used to be obsessed with this wall,” he told her as he ran his hand along it. The stone here wasn’t chiseled into perfect squares, but were ordinary rocks mortared together. While some seemed to be cut castoffs from the construction of the mansion, most were just round rocks the size of melons, and likely gathered from the rivers.
“After my grandfather had told me about the liberated slaves,” Perrin continued, placing his hands along different rocks as if looking for holds, “I came here to see this wall that kept them in. I was about twelve and shorter then, and it actually looked large and intimidating. But when I came to Comma
nd School, I walked by the wall again. Mahrree, look at this—the rock bulges out in many places. It’s the same on the other side.”
Mahrree experimentally put her boot on a lower rock. “You could climb this if you found just the right bulges to support yourself.”
“Exactly!” he said with agitated excitement. “My grandfather scaled this himself, just to show the servants. And you’ve seen his portrait: he wasn’t exactly a thin and limber man. Look, it’s really not that high. I could probably toss you right to the top of the wall.”
Mahrree stared up at the height. “Only you could, though,” she chuckled lightly, until a darker thought struck her. “Toss me up where I could sit, look over the wall, and be the perfect target for an assassin’s arrow.”
Perrin frowned. “What?”
“That’s probably what they thought,” she explained. “Undoubtedly they came to the wall at some time during those many years. Someone must have noticed it was quiet outside—no raging battles, no starving children, no women screaming because of horrible atrocities happening just outside the only safe place in the world. But something else kept them in.”
“Fear,” he sighed. “The first three Queruls had them so convinced the outside was pure evil, they willingly stayed in. What they didn’t realize what that it was the evil that trapped them there. You’re probably right. They believed the compound was surrounded by the enemy, ready to kill whoever came out or tried to escape.”
“So sad,” she murmured. “To be so fearful that you never question—” She stopped, as a new realization came to her. “That’s why you went into the forest, isn’t it?”
He turned his gaze from the wall and looked at her with what he likely hoped was quizzical innocence.
“When you were a captain. First you took in Karna looking for Guarders, then you went in alone again to find the fourteen Guarders sent after Jaytsy and me. You were looking for reasons to go over the wall!”
He smiled guiltily. “I was. My grandfather told me that sometimes there’s only one man out of the whole world who can accomplish something. He was the only one with the right authority to free the servants. They believed only him that there was nothing dangerous on the other side. So I always had it stuck in my head that maybe I’d be the one to enter the forests and confront the Guarders. I don’t think you know about my first time trying to do so. It was before we were together. Karna and Wiles—remember Wiles?—they dragged me away from the forest. I was there for all of five minutes. But yes; I always wondered if I’d be brave enough to escape from the ‘compound.’”
“Oh, you were!” she said proudly. “No man’s ever been as daring as you.”
“Except for the men who already live in the forest,” he pointed out ruefully.
“The ones your father think now live here, instead,” she reminded him. “Perrin, I don’t think anyone has ever lived there permanently,” she whispered as if anyone could overhear them. “What if the Guarders have only done what you did? Run in for a time, cause their trouble, then run away to . . . somewhere else?”
He sighed. “So where’s that ‘somewhere else,’ Mahrree?”
She swallowed, having no ideas.
He ran his hand along the rocks again, fingering the small ledges that protruded. “How often does fear hold us back?” he wondered aloud. “How often do we come face to face with the truth, the reality we never suspected, but turn and run away from it instead? Would we even know how close we came?”
Mahrree gulped again. His words stung her so directly that she wondered if he might not have known about her own adventure into the forest more than twelve years ago. And the shame of that moment—facing the truth and running away from it—still panged her at the oddest times, like right now.
His eyes traveled down the rock wall and over to her. She looked into them. There was no accusation there; just innocent wondering.
She shook her head slowly. “They were so close. All they had to do was climb this wall, and then they could have seen for themselves.”
He stared at a particularly smooth stone. “All we have to do is go to the end of the forest—”
“That’s not all!” she said, alarmed at his idea. “Then there’s that massive boulder field, and the mountains themselves. And then where?”
He looked back at her again. “Think about Terryp,” he whispered, glancing around as if uttering a most secret and abominable name. “Mahrree, he didn’t go north. He went west, remember? Querul sent him and his soldiers west. They had to cross only the desert and they found other land. They went over the wall.”
The look of hope and longing in his eyes was so intense she wanted desperately to join him. But why was he suddenly talking like this?
“What’s your point, Perrin?”
The glow in his eyes faded. He looked down at the ground and kicked at some gravel. “It’s just that . . . there are lots of walls, Mahrree. And on the other side is probably . . . nothing.”
“Oh, you don’t mean that,” she whispered. “You know as well as I do Terryp found something that so amazed him that he went nearly crazy with the desire to record it all. Ruins, Perrin! Evidence that others lived in the world before we did. But then Querul told everyone the land was poisoned.”
“And you believe that as firmly as I do.” He looked into her eyes with such yearning that she was startled.
“Oh, Perrin,” she whispered, troubled to be the one knocking down whatever scheme was growing in him, “there’s not even a known route, or a speculated one. All of his writings and maps were destroyed in that fire that burned all the family lines and histories more than 130 years ago. Perrin,” she gripped his arm as if to hold him back, “there’s just nothing we can do.”
“You’re right.” He smiled dimly, thoroughly unconvinced. “I know. I’m sorry.” He exhaled loudly. “I don’t know why, but sometimes the desire to just jump the wall grips me so ferociously that I just want to, to . . .”
“Where do you want to go?” she prodded. She’d never heard him say such things.
He shook his head. “Just don’t listen to me, Mahrree. I feel such an agitation in Idumea that makes me want to escape my own skin.” In frustration he smacked his hand against the stone wall and cringed in pain.
Mahrree took his palm, already turning red, and kissed it. Idumea may have been getting to him, but he was fighting it back. Not in exactly the most effective manner, she acknowledged, when one’s weapon is a bare hand and the opponent is a century old stone wall. But at least the effort was admirable.
He smiled miserably at her.
“Before you knock down Chairman Mal’s compound wall,” she went on tiptoe to kiss his lips, “perhaps we should start heading back to your parents. I’m sure they have some rocks you can break your hand on.”
Chapter 11 ~ “You messed up again, didn’t you?”