by Trish Mercer
Mahrree, Jaytsy, and Peto couldn’t sleep. The night was extremely cold, probably enough to destroy much of the fruit blossoms and early crops that were just coming up. They used some of Joriana’s dresses as blankets to keep them warm, and kept their eyes focused outside, watching for another attack.
They’d lost seven soldiers—their conditions and locations still unknown when they left Pools—and Poe Hili had a few gashes that the surgeon hastily bandaged. His arm would be stitched later in Edge, and Shem would likely need a new jacket.
At the next messenger station, not all of the teams of horses were assembled yet, but a nervous supervisor assured Perrin they were on the way. The supervisor also stared at Hili, as if he suspected the young man was somehow related to the station losing a horse the night before. On her way back from the washing room, Mahrree noticed that the private purposely avoided the station supervisor’s inquiring gaze.
Perrin made the decision to divide the caravan. The ten wagons already with horses would go on ahead. The possibility that they’d be attacked again was unlikely, but if they were only half of the food would be lost. It was another hour before the coach and the last ten wagons continued on their way. Sometime in the night they reached Midplain, and the fort was waiting for them with fresh horses.
Mahrree and the children somehow managed to fall asleep along the road to Rivers, and well after sunrise their half of the caravan was passing the point where the two rivers converged and then split to become three. Mahrree woke with a surprise to see them changing horses again. She saw her husband talking to a soldier and he nodded at something he said.
Perrin came over to the coach and smiled wearily. “No sign of danger anywhere. I think we’re going to be fine the rest of the way home.”
“Good,” Mahrree said. “Then come sit with us. Perrin, you look terrible. I don’t know when I’ve ever seen you so tired.”
“Don’t tempt me, woman!” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. “I have other plans. I expect to sleep soundly in my bed this evening. I don’t want any little coach naps to interfere with that. Just a little further to Mountseen and then home.”
Peto and Jaytsy were fully awake by now.
“Home before dinner?” Peto asked.
“I expect so.”
Jaytsy shook her head. “Seems so strange to be back already. Feels like we’ve been gone a lifetime.”
Mahrree agreed it felt strange. She also still felt guilty for eating so well while her mother and their friends had been suffering. She hoped they wouldn’t resent the amount of food she pulled out of the coach, and she worried how she would divide it appropriately.
From outside of Mountseen, they saw distinctly the mountains that bordered their home. The distant bluish-gray bumps occasionally distinguishable in between the trees in Idumea were now tall, rock-covered barriers dominating the landscape over the orchards and pines of Mountseen. Ever since her children were young Mahrree had been looking at the mysterious landscape in a different way. They were her home.
“I never noticed that the mountains are pretty,” Jaytsy said as she craned her head out the window to see them fully. “I don’t know that I’ve ever really looked at them before.”
“No one really does, I think,” Mahrree said. “I’ve never heard anyone call them pretty, but I’m glad you think they are, Jaytsy. For as long as I can remember people in Edge always looked toward Idumea. Even houses that face south cost a little more than houses facing the mountains.”
“I guess I can see the appeal of Idumea, but I also rather like the mountains,” Peto mused. “Kind of feel protective, in a way. In Idumea the land is so flat and it just goes on forever.”
Mahrree smiled that her second child also appreciated the terrain. “I don’t care for the flat land, either,” she said. “I must admit, I found it disturbing that in some places you didn’t know where one village started and another ended. I like the borders of the mountains,” she decided, looking out the window. “We’ve feared the mountains for so long we’ve failed to appreciate their power. I kind of wished our house faced the mountains, now that I think about it.”
“We can just get Father to turn it around for your anniversary next season, Mother,” Peto said confidently. “I’m sure it wouldn’t be a problem.”
At the last changing station just beyond Mountseen, Perrin came up to them again. “Just got word that the first wagons have already reached Edge. They’ve set up in the village center. Karna has a doling system established. I have a feeling I’m about to lose him,” he said dismally. “He’ll make a great commander at another fort. So, are we ready to go home?”
“Yes!” his family chorused at him.
When they finally pulled into Edge that afternoon it seemed every citizen was packed into the village greens around the amphitheater and arena, but they eagerly made way for the last ten long wagons and the coach.
Mahrree squirmed, worried how their friends would react. She couldn’t help but notice the state of the villagers’ clothes: filthy, torn, and in some cases still only bedclothes. That was all they had left. With many houses still inaccessible and so many shops gone, the beautiful gowns in the crate across from her would be the only clothing some women would have, as inappropriately frilly and ridiculously silky as they were.
She felt ashamed of the new pale blue linen dress she wore under her cloak. How utterly inadequate for doing any useful work! At least her dress and cloak were sufficiently rumpled and a bit blood splattered.
To Mahrree’s surprise, the coach received a heroes’ welcome, as did each wagon. By the time the coach rambled in, to great amounts of cheering, it had to circle the other wagons to find a place to stop, which only prolonged the welcome.
“We can’t leave the coach,” Mahrree murmured to her children as they heard the shouts of welcome and calls of gratitude. “This is so embarrassing.”
Jaytsy nodded and covered her cheeks with her hands.
“Don’t worry, Mother,” Peto grinned. “They’re all trying to get to Father.”
His family watched from the coach windows as Perrin dismounted from his foamy horse and attempted to make his way to the doling tables, only to be detained by hundreds of Edgers trying to shake his hand or slap him on the back. He smiled—almost sheepishly, Mahrree thought—at the attention.
Maybe his response was because Edgers regarded him with something akin to adulation, and Mahrree couldn’t decide who wanted him more: Idumea or Edge. She never before appreciated just how in demand her husband really was. Nor had she realized how wholly inadequate she was for him, in the city and their village.
Gamely he made his way through the throng, nodding here, shaking a hand there. His dark eyes were baggy and red, his riding jacket stained with dried blood, his cap askew, and his gait stumbling with fatigue; clear demonstration of what he’d gone through that night for his village.
But when Mahrree saw a young father unabashedly embrace Perrin, she knew she had her answer. While Idumea admired him, Edge loved him.
The coach door yanked open and there stood Shem, grinning. “Ever coming out or are you on your way back to the mansions of Idumea?”
“Uncle Shem!” Jaytsy squealed. “I missed you,” and she leaped into his arms.
“Wow, this is quite a ‘Good to see you.’” He laughed as he set her down on the snowy ground. “Better make sure no other soldiers notice and think they can get in line to be next, Jayts.”
He turned only to find Peto holding out pretend skirts like his sister. “Uncle Shem!” he did his best to imitate his sister’s squeal and flopped into Shem’s arms.
Shem chuckled and dropped him unceremoniously on the snow. Jaytsy reached over her prone brother to take the basket of apples from her mother and held it up for Shem.
He waved away the offer. “Take it right over to the doling tables, Jaytsy. I’m fine.”
Peto got up, brushing the wet and heavy snow off of his jacket. “It’s deep here, isn’t it?”
&n
bsp; “It is,” Mahrree sighed, looking out the door at the nearby tree branches weighed down by snow. “Are the blossoms dead?” she asked Shem in a low voice.
Shem nodded somberly. “I’d guess at least two-thirds are gone. We’ll know more by tomorrow when the snow’s melted a bit. There was a hard freeze last night, too, so the early crops . . .” He shrugged instead of finishing his sentence.
Mahrree nodded that she understood his unspoken worries. Cheers rose up again from the crowd. Apparently Perrin was saying something, but Mahrree couldn’t make it out. She chuckled and Shem grinned at the crowd.
Then he turned back to her. “Mahrree, don’t you want to get out? Are you all right?”
She nodded, but she wasn’t all right. How could she face her friends and village wearing her new dress and knowing that just two days ago she feasted at the grandest dinner in the world? So she only said, “I’m just a little tired, Shem.”
“On closer inspection, you don’t look completely well,” he said, and Mahrree wasn’t surprised that he noticed. Shem noticed everything. He climbed into the coach and was about to sit across from her until he saw the crate on the other bench. Instead he sat gingerly next to her and rubbed at a smudge on her cloak. “Mahrree, is this blood?”
She sighed.
His eyes grew wide. “Whose?”
“Not mine or the children’s,” she chuckled sadly. “Someone Perrin dispatched . . . it just splattered,” she gestured lamely to the other stains on her gray cloak.
“Oh, Mahrree.” Shem squeezed her hand. “We’ve been hearing all kinds of stories about the attack, but I didn’t realize you witnessed it.”
“Witnessed it? I drove the coach!” she laughed miserably. “While Perrin was on top!” She pretended to slash an imaginary sword before dropping her hand. “It was a horrible night, Shem. I think it’s all just starting to catch up to me.” She knew this wasn’t the best time, but she couldn’t stop the tears that slipped disobediently down her face.
“Oh, Mahrree,” Shem repeated, putting a strong arm around her.
She rested her head against his shoulder, grateful for a brother who could spend a few minutes comforting his overemotional sister. She just needed a shoulder to cry on.
“I’m so sorry, Mahrree. I feel responsible—”
“Why?” she asked. “Are you a Guarder?”
Shem chuckled with her.
“Well Shem,” she sniffed back her tears and patted him on the knee, “since we haven’t had you over for a proper dinner in weeks now, you’re coming home with us tonight to help us finish off some of these leftovers, and to tell us everything that’s been happening.”
“Good idea. Now let’s get you out of here.” He moved as if to stand up, but Mahrree hung on his arm.
“I can’t go out there, Shem,” she whispered, wiping her face. “Not like this.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you realize how we’ve lived the past two weeks?” she nearly wailed. “In a mansion!”
“Well, Grandpy did mention—” he started.
“With silk sheets!”
“Wouldn’t those be rather slipper—?”
“And do you have any idea how well we ate?”
“Well, I imagine that—”
“A Harvest Day meal! Every day! I’ve gained weight while everyone here has been losing it!”
“Mahrree,” he chuckled and patted her hand that gripped his arm, “no one’s going to blame you for—”
“I can’t face them. I feel so guilty!”
“Then just don’t tell them how you lived,” Shem suggested.
“What, lie to my village?” Mahrree was shocked.
Shem shrugged. “Sometimes . . . sometimes you have to hide the truth to spare those you love. If they knew everything, it would ruin . . . everything. It’s not dishonest, exactly,” he tried to explain as Mahrree frowned at him. “It’s . . . preserving feelings. Protecting people. They don’t need to know the truth, do they?”
“Hmm,” she considered that.
“Besides,” Shem continued, “listen to them out there. Edge isn’t angry; they’re astonished. Look—they’re even hugging Peto. We didn’t expect Perrin could do anything as grand as this. A few hours ago Brillen, Grandpy and I set up a table over there in the middle of the greens and wondered why. A few villagers came by, asking what we were doing, and we felt rather foolish that we didn’t know what to tell them. Until the first group of wagons came. Mahrree, all of us were overcome to see how much grain they brought, and I’ll be honest: there were a few tears shed.”
Mahrree chuckled quietly. “Well Shem, I’ve seen you tear up on quite a few occasions—”
“It wasn’t me,” Shem chuckled back. “It was Grandpy Neeks. ‘Shin did it!’ was all he could say. ‘Shin did it!’”
Mahrree grinned.
“So come on,” Shem nudged her shoulder. “Let’s get you out there, and—”
A shadow darkened the doorway. “Mrs. Shin?” Grandpy Neeks said, climbing up the steps. “Is everything all right in here?”
Mahrree was startled by the severity of his tone, and the fact that he was glaring at Shem and not addressing her.
Shem pulled his arm out of Mahrree’s grip.
“Fine, Grandpy,” she smiled, suspecting that Grandpy feared Shem was revealing the fact that the old sergeant major was seen crying earlier. “Zenos is just trying to convince me that it’s safe to leave the coach.”
Grandpy shifted his gaze to her. “Are you sure, ma’am? Anything I can do to help you? Because Mrs. Peto has been asking—”
“My mother!” Mahrree shouted. In her self-absorption she’d nearly forgotten about her mother.
“—but she unfortunately planted herself on the other side of the greens and asked me to find a way to get you over to her—”
“Of course! Yes!” Mahrree eagerly took his hand to get down the steps.
Behind her, Mahrree heard Shem chuckle, “Well, that got her out,” and he whistled over a few soldiers to help unload the food stuffed in the coach.
Mahrree followed Neeks through Edgers, who caught and hugged almost as frequently as they did her husband. She spotted, over by the doling table, Poe Hili: black eye, banged up, bandaged, and beaming. A couple of privates had friendly arms around him and villagers patted him on the back as they passed. They all knew who Poe was, and they now knew what he was willing to do to redeem himself.
Poe’s life would never be the same, Mahrree thought. Good.
It wasn’t until early that evening—after Mahrree assured Hycymum again and again that they were fine, and after all of the food had been distributed and delivered by soldiers to those who were unable to leave their homes—that the Shins finally headed back to their house. Hycymum rode with them, touching every inch she could have the “magnificent army coach!”
Mahrree couldn’t wait to finally be rid of it.
Shem and Perrin rode behind the coach, catching up on the past two weeks, while Mahrree and the children watched the houses as they went by. To see so much that had been rebuilt was gratifying. But to see how much rubble and destruction remained was discouraging.
Mahrree had forgotten that Shem had fixed up their house while they were away. She wasn’t even looking toward it when Jaytsy squealed, “It’s done!”
As the coach swayed to a stop, Jaytsy and Peto pushed each other to be the first ones out and into the house. Mahrree stepped out cautiously and looked up, her mouth dropping open. There was no way Perrin could hit his head on the ceiling again, unless he jumped off the bed.
Shem had rebuilt the entire level at least three feet higher. The roof line stood at an impressive peak on top of the house, exactly as she had imagined it could, but somehow better.
Mahrree was still staring, dumbfounded, when Shem and Perrin dismounted and walked over to her.
“Zenos, you missed your calling,” Perrin declared. “That’s amazing! Where’d you learn to build houses?�
�
Shem grinned. “I had help, you know.”
“Yes, I supervised,” Hycymum announced.
“She sure did,” Shem said sweetly. “Poe Hili and I spent all of our spare time up there working and talking, ever since you left. He confessed a lot, Perrin, and still has a lot to fix. But I have confidence in him. He’s a changed man, and he’s going to be a good soldier. Karna and I felt terrible about making him the messenger, but I don’t think that will lead to any backsliding.”
Perrin nodded. “I could tell he’s changed. You’re the perfect man to talk to, Shem. I can’t imagine how a rector could have done him more good.”
Mahrree sniffed. “I can’t stand it,” she whispered.
Her family looked at her, confused. “Can’t stand what?” Perrin asked gently. He glanced at the house that looked perfect to him.
Hycymum sighed. “Well, Shem didn’t take all my advice.”
“No, it’s just too much. These past weeks,” she began to weep again. “How can so many miracles be packed into such a small time frame? I thought I’d seen it all. But now to hear Poe Hili is changed because he could talk to Shem Zenos while rebuilding my bedroom because of the land tremor?” She started to sob.
Hycymum blinked in surprise. Shem and Perrin exchanged startled expressions. Perrin shrugged at his family and put his arm around his wife.
“No, it’s good! It’s all just too good. The house I mean, but other things . . .” Mahrree tried to assure them as she blubbered. It’d been such a terrible night, and leaving the Shins so suddenly, and then everything in the past few weeks, and so much was good and bad and worrying, and miraculously she was home again, and the house was fine when so much still wasn’t, and now all of that was insisting on piling on top of her right then—
She couldn’t explain it, so it just came out in tears.
Shem cringed. He leaned over to Perrin and whispered, “Maybe we should wait until she’s calmed down before I show her the built-in wardrobe. I took part of that attic you don’t seem to use, and converted it so you can walk right in and hang up the clothes—”
Mahrree burst out into loud sobs.
---
The house was small. Compared to the mansion, it was tiny. Shed-size, and added on to in odd ways.
The garden was pathetic: lifeless, with two spits, tree stumps for stools and a bench, and a big rock in the middle of it.
The upstairs bedroom, while far taller and with a walk-in wardrobe that it didn’t have before, was still more confining than the maids’ upstairs bedrooms in the Shin mansion.
But nothing was better than being home.
For the first time in weeks Mahrree and Perrin lay down tentatively on their bed and looked up at the ceiling that was more solid than even the oaks that gave their lives for it. They were fully aware of the pairs of eyes that watched them.
“Well?” Hycymum asked eagerly.
Mahrree pushed down on the plush blankets and bounced her head experimentally on the new feather pillow.
Perrin rubbed the cotton under his hand. “The curtains match the blankets that match the pillows that match the rug, correct?”
Mrs. Peto stood a little taller and looked proudly at her granddaughter who grinned back.
“I like the blue,” Perrin said. “Sets off the red and white nicely. You said it’s called plaid? I must admit, I . . . I kind of like it.” He sat up and nodded at his mother-in-law.
She beamed.
Mahrree chuckled from her prone position. “Jaytsy thought we needed new blankets in here. I told her it was just an excuse to go shopping.”
“But everything was so dirty and starting to mold, Mahrree! I couldn’t get it clean,” Hycymum explained. “The mattress was salvageable, fortunately, but there was nothing left to do but get new bedding.”
Mahrree sat up. “But how did you get it? So much in the markets burned—” She narrowed her eyes at her mother. “You already had it, didn’t you? You probably weakened the ceiling just hoping it would collapse so that we’d have to use what you had ready, right?” She smiled through her scowl.
“Oh, I didn’t do that. I wouldn’t know how to,” Hycymum chuckled. “But yes, I already had it. I was going to redo your bedroom for your anniversary next season as a surprise, and Jaytsy was going to help get you out of the house for me. I thought Perrin would approve of the plaid.”
He nodded and looked around. “Makes me feel rather woodsy, somehow.”
His wife looked at him as if she smelled something foul. “Woodsy?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m new to this, all right?”
Hycymum smiled a bit apologetically. “I realize it’s not exactly a mansion in Idumea—”
“Mother, I’ve had enough of the mansions in Idumea,” Mahrree promised her.
Hycymum’s eyes grew big. “Did you see one?”
Mahrree pursed her lips as her children snorted.
Perrin rubbed his forehead. “I’ll let you break it to her while I’m gone to the fort. I’m not sure if I could handle her reaction right now.”
“My reaction?” Hycymum frowned. “To what?”
Perrin let her question slide, got off the bed, stood on his tiptoes to show his head still had plenty of room, and winked at Shem who, smiling, leaned in the doorway with his arms folded.
Perrin stepped over to his mother-in-law and gave her an unexpected kiss on the cheek. “It’s wonderful to come home to a beautiful bedroom. Thank you.”
Hycymum turned pink.
Perrin turned to his wife. “I want to check on the fort, and then I’ll be back for a late dinner and a good night’s sleep.”
“Leave your jacket, Perrin,” Hycymum reminded him. “I’ll soak it with your riding coat to get out that mud.”
“It’s not mud, Grandmother,” Peto started, “it’s bl—”
“—a real mess. Thank you, Mother Peto.” Perrin unbuttoned his jacket and sent a calculated look to his son. “I’ll wear one of my old ones to the fort.”
“Real brass buttons,” she whispered in awe as she took the jacket from Perrin.
Mahrree shook her head sadly. If her mother swooned over the brass on his new jacket, she’d tip over lifeless at the news they actually lived in a mansion.
Perrin glanced sympathetically at his wife, then punched Shem good-naturedly on the shoulder. “Don’t hang around here too long unloading, Zenos. I’ll need your eyes at the fort soon,” he told his master sergeant before he headed down the stairs.
Mahrree got off the bed and hugged her mother. “It’s even better than silk sheets which, I assure you, aren’t nearly as comfortable as they sound.”
“Silk sheets? They make sheets out of silk? Where’d you see that?”
“Uh, later Mother. Let’s finish unloading the coach so Shem can bring it back to the fort.”
“Absolutely,” Shem said. “It’s had enough airing out.”
---
After inspecting the fort for an hour, making sure nothing was out of place—and blessedly it wasn’t—Perrin walked into his office and sighed in satisfaction. The fort and his office were exactly as they should be, which was immensely comforting since everything else in his life had been upended the past few weeks. He sat easily in the big chair at his desk, his shoulders relaxing before he heard a familiar gait come up the stairs.
“I found him on my way in,” Shem said, poking his head in the door. “He’s on his way.”
Perrin nodded. “Good. Stick around, all right?”
Shem twitched his acknowledgement and stepped back to give room for Lieutenant Riplak as he came up the stairs.
“Colonel Shin, sir!” he stood at attention at the door. “Reporting as ordered, sir.”
“At ease and sit down, Riplak. Sleep well?”
“Yes sir,” he said as he took a chair. “But I should be leaving for Idumea soon, sir.”
Colonel Shin shook his head. “Not until dawn. You’ll accompany the r
est of the garrison soldiers headed south to help return the horses.”
The lieutenant shifted nervously. “But your father will be expecting me. I’m his—”
“His what, Riplak?” Colonel Shin interrupted. “Betrayer?”
Riplak’s chin dropped. “Sir?”
The colonel stood up, walked around his desk, and yanked the stunned young man out of his chair. “Who’d you speak to? How’d they know we were coming?”
Riplak stammered, “N-n-n-o one, sir! I left from the mansion and went straight to the stables. I don’t know how the Guarders knew you were coming. Maybe it was just a coincidence. I’m very sorry, sir. I was shocked when I heard about the attack. I wasn’t expecting that. Honestly!”
Perrin breathed heavily as he stared into the frightened young man’s eyes, looking for deceit. He remembered glaring at Shem like this, years ago, trying to discern if he was a Guarder. Riplak’s face blanched the same way Shem’s had, and his lower jaw began to tremble.
“I’d do nothing to betray your father, sir. Please. I’m committed to serving the world.”
Perrin released his grip on the young man’s uniform and Riplak slumped helplessly back into his chair.
“Can you prove it?” Colonel Shin demanded.
“I-I-I-I rode all night to deliver his message, sir.” Now the tremble in his lower jaw spread to his entire body. “I’ve never been north of Pools, sir. To be honest, I was a bit uneasy. Not exactly my kind of thing, riding in the dark to unfamiliar destinations, all alone.” His breathing quickened. “Was never more happy than to see the sun rise over the marshes! Please, sir, can I just go back Idumea?” He was scared.
Perrin had never known Guarders to be scared of anything. Agitated, shifty, irrational, and impulsive, yes. But not scared.
Perrin stared at the quaking lieutenant and tried to clear his mind to feel for any kind of impression that he shouldn’t let Riplak leave. Nothing came.
Perhaps it was a coincidence that the Guarders happened upon them. Perhaps someone in the stables was a contact. If what his father told him was true—that Guarders lived among them—Perrin could think of dozens of men that could have revealed their plans.
“If you leave now,” Perrin said, “you’ll be riding in the dark all the way back. Alone.”
Riplak gulped at the thought.
“But if you wait until morning, you’ll have light and dozens of men and horses accompanying you.”
Riplak nodded. “Sir, I am sorry. Truly,” he said as he got to his feet. “But you were uninjured, right sir? The future High General’s fine?”
Perrin’s brows furrowed at that reference to the future High General, but he said only, “Be careful on the way home, all right, Lieutenant? My father would be disappointed if anything happened to you.”
“Yes, sir. My life’s purpose is to attend to the High General, sir.”
---
“Think we’re finally back to the same old routine?” Mahrree asked Perrin in the dark of their bedroom late that night.
Perrin snored back.
Mahrree laughed softly and sank into the new sheets. They were cotton and nubby and perfect.
Even though poor Hycymum had nearly hyperventilated to hear that even her grandchildren had slept in silk sheets—and lived for two weeks in a mansion in Idumea—Mahrree wouldn’t have wanted anything else but a plaid bedroom.
That night she dreamed again of a gray, wooden-planked house, filled with children and laughter, but without a stitch of silk in it anywhere.
---
Two men sat in the dark office of an unlit building.
Neither of them spoke for several minutes, still trying to absorb it all.
“And still he succeeded.” It was Brisack. He breathed the words partly in awe, partly in rage. “How the slag did he pull that off?”
The only thing to drag Nicko Mal out of his stunned reverie was to hear the good doctor using such profanity. While slag was the refuse of smelted metals, it also referred to the filthiest elements of society, worthy only of being cast off. A refined doctor wouldn’t use such language unless—
“You’re angry about this?”
“Of course I’m angry!” Brisack snapped. “We had an arrangement! Then we revised that arrangement, and still he went off and did precisely what he wanted!”
As furious as Mal was about the loss of the reserves—the Shins were now nothing more than thieving rogue Guarders in his mind—he was more fascinated that Perrin’s biggest admirer was turning on him. “You’re taking this personally, aren’t you?”
Brisack’s hand clenched into a fist. “With provisions, I told him. Provided he’d create a complete report of the conditions in Edge. Provided he’d give me a week to work on the Administrators. Provided he’d allow me to oversee the loading of the wagons! But what did he do? After all these years of defending him, preserving him, speculating for him, he just, just, just—”
Nicko Mal couldn’t help but smile as Brisack frothed.
“—just, did what he wanted! What an infuriating son of a sow!”
Mal burst into a grin. Observing the breakdown of Dr. Brisack was the greatest entertainment he’d had in years. Two profanities in two minutes? The Shins’ betrayal was nearly worth it to witness this.
Nearly.
“Finally you believe me, don’t you my dear Doctor? Now you see why I’ve always thought of Perrin Shin as one of the most aggravating, annoying—”
“Dangerous!” Brisack added.
Mal nodded. “—dangerous men in the world. And now Relf has just joined that little club.”
Brisack exhaled. “Now that was unexpected! He wrote the message, he released the stores, he commanded the soldiers—next he’ll be saying all of it was his fault, just to protect that insubordinate brat of his!”
“Most likely,” Mal agreed, still torn between fury and fascination. “The Administrators will all be in session tomorrow morning. Emergency meeting. We’ll decide then how to handle this.”
Brisack scoffed. “Handle this? We can’t handle this. We have to go along with it! Think about it: the world will think Edge was saved by the garrison and Administrators. If we expose the deceit of the Shins and say they acted without permission, we come off as the enemy. They had to take it because the Administrators wouldn’t release it! We have to support this if we want to keep any semblance of order.”
“Yes, we do,” Mal said easily. “We can come off looking quite good, if we handle this properly. That’s what I meant, my good doctor.”
“And so then what happens to the Shins?” Brisack seethed. “Patted on the back?”
“Given another meaningless certificate for services to the world?” Mal suggested with a tone of accusation.
Brisack huffed and looked down at his hands.
“What do you think of her?” Mal probed.
Brisack sighed. “I still can’t figure out Mahrree Shin. At The Dinner she was brave in her timidity and confident despite her insecurity. Wished I knew what part she played in all of this.”
“May have been a very big part, Doctor.”
Brisack shook his head. “He has to be punished,” he insisted, ignoring the question of Mahrree Shin. “He can’t get away with this. With such blatant—You realize what it is, don’t you?” He looked up, his eyes nearly ablaze. “Exactly what I warned you about! He’s more loyal to his Creator than he is to us. You wondered what he could do? This! Raid from the garrison, steal the wagons, make up lies all the way to Edge, and convince his father to join him in the deception. And if you were to ask Perrin Shin why, I’ll bet you all the gold in my coffer he’d say he felt a duty to his Creator to do this! She said it—she said it at The Dinner!” he suddenly remembered. “She said she doubted Edgers knew just how much he loved them. Loved them enough to destroy himself and his career!”
Mal raised a surprised eyebrow. “So what’s next?”
“Exactly what I wonder! And fear!” Brisack barked. “Wha
t will he do next?”
“No,” Mal said, “what do we do next? How do we prove to him his devotion should be to us, not some imaginary friend?”
Brisack thought about it for a moment, his breathing becoming more rapid the angrier he became. “We prove who’s more powerful,” he finally decided. “Years ago you wanted Perrin Shin brought to his knees, remember? In the name of his Creator, I will bring him down!”
“Or you’ll die trying?” said Mal, just as icily.
“Yes!” Brisack exclaimed without hesitation.
Nicko Mal clasped his hands in front of him. “Now, that’s more like it.”
Chapter 21 ~ “What we did would be known by now, wouldn’t it?”