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

by Trish Mercer

Shem Zenos rode faster than he ever remembered, barely seeing the surprised looks of soldiers and citizens as he dodged and weaved through the dinner time congestion of Edge. Soon Edge was a cluster of buildings growing smaller behind him.

  He tried to think what he would do, what he would say when he finally caught up to Perrin. He had glimpsed the look in his eyes as he sped past him out of the fort, and Neeks was right: he was murderous. Who his target was, Shem couldn’t even imagine. Maybe the first unlucky man that crossed his path.

  Shem didn’t want it to be him, but he would be a better target than anyone else. At least Shem would have a fighting chance.

  He squinted into the distance to make out Perrin’s figure in the light of the setting sun. The trees that lined the roadside were casting too many shadows to see distinctly, but Shem was sure it was Perrin ahead of him, passing a slow wagon.

  Mathematical formulas began limping into his brain, weakened from disuse and neglect. He remembered when they were first taught to him, and he came home to complain to his father.

  “It’s stupid,” he had said. “Look at this problem, Papa. Two men are riding horses. One is traveling at one hundred paces a minute, the second is traveling at one hundred ten paces a minute. If the two men leave from the same destination, but five minutes apart, how long will it take the second faster man to reach the first slower man?

  “When would I ever need to use this?” he had grumbled.

  Shem now laughed mirthlessly inside. When would I ever need this? Right now. Perrin will probably reach the first messenger station and change horses before I get there.

  Papa had laughed at his question. He was always laughing, when he wasn’t teary-eyed. The sweet and simple man had only two emotions.

  “I don’t really know when you’d use this,” he had said. “But if they’re teaching it, it must be important.”

  “But you didn’t learn it,” Shem had complained. “And you get by all right.”

  “I didn’t learn it because Archedes just came up with it,” Papa laughed again. “He’s going to hold a lecture on it and some other theories he’s developed. You’re blessed to have such a brilliant man as your upper school teacher. When he does his lecture on displacement, I plan to sit in the front row. I’m always losing things.”

  Shem almost smiled at that memory.

  “That’s not what displacement is,” he had told Papa. His father knew cattle, and that was about it. Granted, he knew just about all there was to know about cattle, from what part of the day they liked to eat clover to exactly how long each cow would wait to be milked. But beyond cattle?

  Young Shem would then sigh and shuffle off to stare at the formulas. The same ones he was trying now to recreate in his mind.

  But the formulas faded away and Shem could think of nothing but his own father.

  What would he feel if the message had come about him? Papa always greeted Shem with the standard, “Where have you been, and why have you left me here all alone . . .” whenever he came home to visit. True, it was with a smile, but there was loneliness in his eyes as well. His father fully supported Shem and his work, and understood why he had to be gone so far, but still Shem ached each time he left him.

  Shem had been too young to remember when his mother passed, but he couldn’t even imagine the pain Perrin must be feeling now. After taking out all those Guarders on the road, ones that he had missed had killed his parents.

  What if Perrin hadn’t left Idumea for Edge when he did, Shem wondered as the line of trees ahead ended and the road straightened out with no shadows on it. The sun hanging above the horizon illuminated the figure of a distant horse rider, and Shem was gaining. The rider passed another wagon.

  What if he and Karna delayed sending Hili? They’d thought about waiting. Maybe Perrin could have still been at his parents when the Guarders came. Maybe he could have stopped it . . .

  Shem shook his head and readjusted his stance on the now-foaming horse.

  No use thinking like that. Whatever the Creator wills, will happen. It must have been their time to go. Maybe it had been General Shin’s time to go three weeks ago, but the Creator gave him time to say goodbye, and to be with his wife when it happened. Perhaps Relf had unfinished business he was allowed to attend to. Who else could have released the stores and saved Edge?

  Perrin had told him it was the best visit he’d ever had with his parents. Perhaps it was a tender mercy to let Relf and Joriana see their son and his family, and then watch them leave in such a good way. If the family had been there when the Guarders came, today may have been even more tragic—

  No, Shem reminded himself as he closed in on Perrin. There’s no tragedy in death. Death isn’t the end; it’s only a change. The only tragedy is in not living the Plan, in failing the Test.

  The Shins’ final act was one of pure generosity, without a care for what happened to them. What better way to finish the Test?

  I have to tell him that, Shem thought as he saw the red flag in the distance signaling the messenger station. I have to remind him. He already knows; his heart just can’t connect with his mind right now.

  The sun was setting and the last of the light hit the messenger station that sat a little off the road. Shem picked out some movement at the small distant building and hoped they would delay Perrin. As he got closer he saw more urgent action and realized someone was rushing a horse out of the stable.

  “No!” Shem groaned. He was just a hundred paces away when he recognized the distinctly large figure of Perrin mount the horse and take off again.

  “PERRIN!” Shem cried.

  He thought he saw his friend look back, then continue at a fast pace.

  Shem was at the messenger station now and slid off his tired horse. He grabbed the two packs and rushed into the office.

  “I need a horse, now! I need to catch up to the colonel!”

  The small, older man standing behind the counter greeted Shem with a mixture of fury and terror. “And you’re far too heavy as well! Weight limit is 120 pounds. You must be over 200! That wild colonel is even bigger and will kill that horse. No!”

  Shem stepped up quickly and leaned over the counter. “I need to stop that wild colonel, and I need a horse, now.” It was a fairly good attempt at intimidation, which was not one of Shem’s strengths, but far better than he’d ever done before.

  The older man shifted his stance before saying, “No. Not for anyone but the Administrators’ messengers.”

  “What if I told you that wild colonel is most likely after the Administrators? If he reaches them, it’ll be your fault. Give me a horse!”

  The supervisor didn’t get his position by being pushed around by large soldiers. “I have my orders.” It was hard to argue with that.

  Shem took a deep breath, knowing he was losing valuable time. “How’d the colonel get a horse?”

  Without meaning to, the man’s eyes darted to the side. That’s when Shem saw the two men lying on the floor. One kept his head back and held his nose which was bleeding profusely, and the other was unconscious. Definitely Perrin’s handiwork.

  A third man rushed in, greeted Shem with a yelp of terror, and crouched by the bleeding man to hand him a wet cloth.

  Desperate, Shem turned again to the supervisor.

  “No.”

  Realizing that some situations can’t be worked out any other way, Shem said, “This really isn’t in my nature, and I’m very sorry about this, but—”

  The force of Shem’s fist hitting the small man sent him backward into a wall. Shem didn’t wait to see him fall but sprinted toward the stable.

  The man with the wet cloth—the only one who was still healthy and capable, and wanted to stay that way—cried out, “Give him a horse!”

  Another messenger ran out from the stable with a horse, making as if he was about to mount it, probably to send a warning or request assistance, but Shem snatched the reins, nodded a polite thanks, and took off on the animal.
/>   Perrin was now only a blob in the darkening distance.

  If Shem were a swearing man, he would have cursed. Instead he pressed his lips together and leaned over the horse in a vain attempt to make his load lighter. There’d likely be no one following them. The messenger services typically had only two horses saddled at a time, one to go in either direction. It would take them time to get a third horse ready to send in pursuit as a warning. By then, somewhere Shem should have caught up to Perrin.

  But that didn’t happen at the next station. He was even closer this time as Perrin abandoned his horse for a new one, and he was sure the colonel saw him in pursuit. But when Shem barged through the messenger station, the supervisor and riders were panicked. Another man was prone on the ground, motionless.

  “Sir, we’ve been informed that you’re to remain here,” the supervisor attempted in a shaky voice. “You have a serious illness and a representative from the fort will be here shortly to see to—”

  Shem had no time for this. He went directly to the stables and took the next saddled horse, ignoring the cries of protest.

  Clever warning, Perrin, Shem thought. But worrisome. You’re thinking. You’re planning. You’re trying to throw others off. But you’ve lost all sense of rationality. What else are you planning, my brother?

  Shem was closing in on Perrin about a mile before the third messenger station. He was nearly on top of him, yelling his name, when Shem’s horse began to go lame. Perrin was well on his way with a new horse leaving Shem to face another crew of shocked, wounded, and unconscious messengers. But he wasn’t going to bother with them. He ran straight for the stables.

  “Horse! NOW!”

  A farrier shook his head vigorously. “Don’t have one saddled.”

  Shem spun around, found a horse that looked rested enough, and grabbed its reins. Riding bareback was his only choice. Good thing he did that a lot on his father’s ranch when he was growing up.

  Once again Shem was in pursuit, but this time he was sure he’d catch up to Perrin. A few miles along the darkening road Shem saw him clearly, and his horse was struggling. It was smaller than the others had been and clearly unsuitable for Perrin’s weight.

  They were nearing the station at Midplain when Shem finally pulled up even with Perrin, who looked bitterly askance at him.

  “I’m going with you!” Shem shouted at him. “Let me help!”

  Perrin tried to spur his horse on faster, but it was flagging. The station came into view and Perrin rode straight for the stables. His horse stumbled outside the open doors, but Perrin slid off the lamed animal and plowed into the stables, with Shem close behind.

  “Stop!” Shem shouted at the colonel, but it was Shem who stopped suddenly, just inside the barn, when he found himself facing Perrin.

  Or rather, facing Perrin’s sword, which was raised and hovered just inches away from Shem’s chest.

  “Go home,” Perrin commanded. It was the look in his eyes that caught Shem’s breath. He’d never seen such fierce resolve, such murderous intent.

  Shem couldn’t let anyone else in the world try to deal with him, so he shook his head. “No, I’m going with you. Whatever you’re planning.”

  He was aware that two young stable hands stood to the right of him, frozen in place with pitchforks full of straw. They slowly looked at each other. With his hand, Shem made little waving motions to get them to leave, but the boys merely turned to stare at Perrin’s sword.

  A messenger in bright red ran into the stable. “What’s going on in—” was as much as he could say before he stopped right next to Shem. He found himself also staring at the tip of Perrin’s sword, which now bobbed between the two men.

  The only sound was of two pitchforks dropping and boys scrambling out the door.

  “Just leave,” Shem whispered to the little man who began to tremble.

  “But, but,” he whispered back, “no one’s supposed to—”

  “GO!” Perrin bellowed.

  The little man jumped nearly as tall as Shem and ran out, slamming the wooden doors behind him.

  “I meant that ‘go’ for you as well, Zenos!” Perrin snarled.

  Shem firmed his stance. “I’m not leaving you. What’re you planning to do?”

  “Get justice!”

  Shem tried to keep his voice steady. “You don’t want justice, you want revenge. Neither will bring them back, Perrin.”

  It was the first time Shem was faster than Perrin in anything, as if something told him what to do the moment before he was to do it.

  Perrin lunged with his sword, but Shem was already stepping to the side. He grabbed Perrin’s hand, wrested the sword away from him, and flung it into an empty stall where it buried itself in the straw.

  Infuriated, Perrin started to go for Shem’s sword, but Shem drew it faster and pitched it into the straw as well.

  “Idiot!” Perrin yelled and swung at Shem, connecting with his jaw.

  Shem hadn’t seen that coming, and had never before felt the full force of Perrin’s rage. They’d wrestled dozens of times and sparred with each other for years, but never to any degree of viciousness. The jaw-numbing blow awakened something in Shem, something primal and raw.

  He found himself on all fours in the straw with an unfamiliar anger boiling in him, and the anger said, I didn’t spend hours chasing you down just for a fight, but if that’s what you want, Shin, that’s what you’re going to get!

  Perrin was striding past Shem to the stall where he had thrown the swords when Shem pushed up and lunged for Perrin’s middle, knocking some of the air out of him and shoving him against the wall. Shem struggled to his feet to punch him, but Perrin caught him first with a hit to his kidney before Perrin fell to the ground, gasping. He was down only for a moment before he righted himself and charged at Shem, who was holding his side and trying to stand back up.

  Shem stepped out of the way at the last moment and kicked Perrin as he tried to turn to catch Shem. Perrin stumbled into a stable, frightening the horse in it, and stood back up, seething.

  Shem readied himself. “Come on!” he beckoned. “You’ve got to have more in you than that, Colonel!”

  Perrin, his eyes black and impenetrable, stood his full height.

  Shem felt a twinge of fear, but he pushed it aside. As Perrin rushed him, Shem stepped forward and planted his fist squarely on his jaw.

  Perrin only stumbled backward a bit, shook out his head, and came at Shem again like an agitated bear.

  Shem tried to brace himself for the impact, but Perrin was too strong. He plowed into Shem and kept going until the wooden rail of a stall stopped them momentarily, then gave way under their combined weight. Shem groaned as the splintered wood dug into his back, and kept groaning as the full weight of Perrin sandwiched him.

  Shem let his rage work for him. Perrin sat up, straddling Shem’s chest, and made a fist. But before he could hit him, Shem swiftly raised his leg and kneed Perrin in the back where he knew he was still sore from the long ride a few days ago.

  For the first time, Shem saw something else besides murder in Perrin’s face. He saw a glint of agony as his friend arched and writhed.

  Shem used that moment. He brought his elbow down hard on Perrin’s stomach, and as Perrin began to lean, Shem pushed himself out from underneath him, flipping Perrin on to his back. In one smooth movement he snatched Neeks’s knife from his boot, straddled Perrin, and held the knife at his throat.

  “No more, Colonel!” Shem told him. He sat heavily on Perrin’s chest, knowing full well what his weight must have been doing to his back.

  Perrin winced in pain. “Zenos,” he gasped, “we both know you can’t kill me. You can’t kill anything. Never could.”

  Shem shook his head. “Don’t make me surprise you, Colonel. And I don’t need to kill you, just need to give you something to remember me by. Remember your advice?” He pressed the sharp tip of the knife into Perrin’s flesh to prick it.

 
Perrin didn’t even flinch, but as a trickle of blood began to slide down to his neck, he knew Shem was serious.

  “What are you intending to do, Colonel Shin?”

  Perrin closed his eyes and his breathing became shallower. “I want to get justice.”

  “This isn’t the way, Colonel.”

  Perrin’s breathing became more rapid and Shem noticed his shoulders start to quiver. Something around the hard lines of his face began to soften, and Perrin raised an arm to cover his eyes.

  Sensing a change in him, Shem slid off his chest, but kept his leg on top of him and the knife next to his throat.

  Perrin’s entire body began to shake and Shem finally understood. He scrambled off and tried to lift Perrin to a sitting position, but Perrin had no strength left as he began to sob. Shem sat in the straw next to him, put the knife under his leg just in case, and wrapped both arms around his stricken friend.

  Perrin leaned against his chest, dampening his jacket. “Shem, Shem . . . they’re taking all I love,” he wept. “If I can’t stop them— They’re taking them by age. The Densals. My parents. Then me. Then there’ll be no one left to protect Mahrree, Jaytsy, and Peto. They’ll be next—I know it.”

  Shem held him and rocked. “No, no, Perrin! They’re not. You’re not. We’re watching them, always. We’re protecting. We’re keeping them safe.”

  Perrin shook his head and trembled like a child. “They’ll be gone. No matter what I do, Shem, it doesn’t make any difference.”

  “Everything you do makes a difference!” Shem tightened his embrace as if that could somehow make Perrin believe him. “And you won’t be alone. Not now, not ever. I’m here. The Creator sent me to you. You’ll always have your brother. You’re protected! I’ll get you through this, I promise. You’ll be all right, Perrin.” Shem was almost frantic now, trying to get him to feel the reality of his words. “All of you will be, I know it. Trust me!”

  Tears streaked down Shem’s face, too. He’d never seen another man so distraught, and if what Shem was feeling right now for him was just a fraction of Perrin’s grief, he didn’t know how Perrin was surviving it. Shem prayed fervently for guidance to know what to do and say as he firmly held Perrin’s shuddering body.

  ---

  Outside of the stable the full staff of the messenger station cautiously peered into the windows, wondering when it was safe to open the doors. They’d inserted lengths of wood through the door handles on both exits as barricades. No one could see what happened after the two fighting men had broken through the stall, and all had been quiet for several minutes.

  The supervisor looked at his employees and came to a conclusion. “We unbarricade the doors in an hour. If they’re alive, they’ll be calmer—most likely from large losses of blood. If they’re dead, then an hour won’t make any difference. In either case, it’ll be easier to remove them if we wait. Anyone feeling a bit peckish?”

  Everyone agreed a bit of cake would be most welcome right now. As the men were settling down to a well-earned snack, a messenger arrived, winded and frantic, to warn them about huge soldiers stealing their horses. But when he heard the soldiers were subdued and contained in the stables, he too pulled up a chair and realized that the urgency of his warning wasn’t as urgent as the last piece of cake.

  Forty-five minutes later the stable doors burst open, to the shock of the willowy riders who thought the pitchfork handle would hold, likely because it would’ve held them.

  Two men walked out, side by side, swords sheathed, and horses’ reins in their hands. The lantern light behind them shadowed them dramatically, making them look even larger than they were, which meant they appeared to be roughly the size of wood sheds. They strode calmly up to the office where the entire staff was now staring out the open door as if seeing two ghosts with horses. A mug crashed to the floor.

  “We’ll be taking these two horses. Do you have a problem with that?” the colonel asked through the doorway.

  The entire messenger staff gave their answer to the supervisor in the form of uniformly shaking heads.

  The supervisor hadn’t reached this level by not knowing how to work the rules. Especially when those requesting the rules to be broken just destroyed half his stables and not only lived to tell about it, but walked out serenely, oblivious to the blood and cuts and bruises and straw that covered them.

  The supervisor shook his head erratically, as if unable to decide if nodding or shaking it was more appropriate. So he did both. “No, no, no, no problem. Whatever you gentlemen need.”

  The colonel nodded at him, then the two men mounted and rode off into the darkness.

  ---

  Rector Yung looked around the forest and knew he was in trouble.

  Actually, he knew long before he slipped unnoticed into the trees at the fresh spring that soon he’d be in trouble. But there was no other choice. A message had to be delivered, and he was the only one left to do it.

  That’s what he’d been trying to do for the last hour, but it was maddening how each tree looks exactly like another, especially at night. He couldn’t come any earlier, but not because he didn’t dare; no soldier ever stopped lowly little rectors, or questioned why they were wandering near the forest.

  He couldn’t come earlier because he was actually busy. For the first time since he came to Edge a year ago, he was needed all day and all night.

  People always wanted a rector when tragedy struck. Distraught, they suddenly remembered snippets of The Writings, warm feelings, and the notion of a Creator that they’d encountered long ago when a grandmother dragged them to Holy Day meetings as children. Suddenly they needed that comfort and a shoulder to cry on. Rector Yung had the dampest shoulders in all of Edge.

  He knew exactly what they were experiencing, the realization that someone they were used to waking up to each morning was no longer there, and never would be again. It’d been seven years since he lost his wife who simply didn’t wake up one morning. He knew what to say to someone in that same distressing position and, more importantly, what not to say. He was happy to be so needed, but equally discouraged as to the reasons why. Yung didn’t know the majority of the people he was asked to comfort, but each embraced him as a dear friend when he finally departed.

  Yung had just left the home of an elderly man who feared the pains in his chest were a sign he was about die. The rector patted his hand and listened to the man’s regrets until he finally fell asleep. A doctor confided to Yung that the man was merely suffering from the stresses of the past several weeks, but he seemed much calmer once he unloaded all of the past misdeeds that weighed down his mind and heart for too many years.

  But before that, Yung had been at the Shins.

  Word of what happened to the High General and Mrs. Shin flew through the village like mosquitoes from the marshes, and Yung hastened to the Shins to find the family predictably in anguish. Mrs. Shin had asked him to offer a prayer for them, and for her husband, and for Shem who was trying to chase him down—

  That’s when Yung knew he’d have to go back into the forest. It was now the middle of the night, but already he’d delayed delivering the news.

  It was at moments like this that he missed his wife even more. While the rector had a knack for seeing into a person’s heart and guiding them out of their worries, his wife had the ability to see into the forest and find the fastest way through it. He never understood how she did it, and she didn’t understand how he couldn’t. Perhaps it because he was so much at home in the world it was almost as if he’d been born there.

  Rector Yung sat down on a log and sighed. Hopeless. He couldn’t even see the stars above him to discern where he might be. Not that he’d know how to even if he could see the stars . . .

  He looked down at the ground, peered closer to what was next to his boot, and chuckled.

  “Of course!” he said out loud. “Everything’s changed! You, my friend,” he pointed to the hole in the ground, “are supposed to be venting r
ight now. I’m only a few dozen paces away.” He looked up at the sky, nodded a thanks, and headed up the slope and over a gentle ridge.

  “Well, hello boys!”

  The men in green and brown mottled clothing—six of them asleep, six others sitting around a tiny fire and chatting quietly—jumped in surprise.

  Yung sauntered down to their fire and pulled up a log as the men stared at him, astonished.

  The waking men rubbed their eyes to focus on the unexpected visitor, and one of them found his voice. “Yung!”

  “Yes?” he said easily, rather enjoying the fact that he shocked someone, for once.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Yung sighed. Enough fun. “Boys, there’s been some trouble. Big trouble.”

  “And where’s Shem?” asked another man, slightly panicked.

  Yung sighed again. “And that may be even more trouble.”

  Ten minutes later a man sprinted through the forest with the most worrying news he’d ever delivered.

  ---

  Instead of stopping at the next station before Idumea, Perrin and Shem rode to the fort at Pools, Perrin gesturing once to the road that led to Gizzada’s.

  “If we had time, you’d be amazed,” was all he said as they rode toward the fort.

  Colonel Snyd was at home sleeping, but Captain Despertar was on duty that night. He was obviously startled by the sudden appearance of the colonel and the master sergeant, and stood up from the desk in the command office, trying to force the sleep that wasn’t supposed to be there out of his eyes.

  “Colonel! What a surprise. I had no idea—”

  Colonel Shin extended his hand to shake his. “No one knew I was coming. Sit down, please,” he said coolly.

  The captain sat and Perrin took the same chair he had just a few nights before. “I have some questions about the night our caravan was attacked.”

  The captain nodded, turned to a cabinet behind him, and retrieved a file. “All we have is right here, sir. And may I add, I’m very sorry about your parents. We just got word a few hours ago. Everyone is on high alert.”

  “Except in this office, I see,” Colonel Shin murmured. He opened the thin file and started reading while the captain looked down nervously and resisted the urge to rub his eyes.

  “What’s this?” Colonel Shin demanded. “The captured Guarders were in your custody for only a few hours? Then they were retrieved at dawn. By who?”

  He handed the top page to the master sergeant who scanned it. Colonel Shin looked at the paper behind it and didn’t find the answer he wanted. He gave a pointed look to the captain who was trying to think of how to phrase it.

  “The . . . the general. From Idumea. The other one. General Cush. He sent Colonel Thorne, and his men took the four Guarders we captured.”

  The master sergeant sighed and looked over to the file in the colonel’s hand. “Doesn’t look like they got anything out of them.” Now he gave a disappointed look to the captain.

  “I recommend talking to Colonel Thorne,” Despertar suggested.

  “I intend to!” Colonel Shin snapped. He threw the file on the desk, scattering pages over the floor, and left with the master sergeant.

  That’s when the captain finally rubbed his eyes and cursed that he traded the major shifts that night. He didn’t find out until later in the morning that two of their best horses had been replaced by smaller, exhausted messenger horses, and that for some reason new Master Sergeant Oblong—while seen near the stables but not assigned to them—had a smug smile on his face all morning.

  ---

  Normally Gizzada’s was closed for the night, but this was no ordinary night.

  Bad news flies quickly, into the elitist establishments and also into the lowliest. Gizzada’s happened to be both—one in the front, the other in the back.

  Just before the midday meal rush, Sheff Gizzada heard the news from a few shocked officers and, stunned himself, could do nothing else but sit in the back half of the restaurant for the rest of the day and well into the night.

  He didn’t sit alone. Enlisted men filed in and out in record numbers, wanting verification and shedding a few tears themselves. It wasn’t so much that they knew Relf or Joriana Shin personally, but as a figurehead the High General had been around for all of their careers. He was a solid, honest man, and those were becoming rare.

  But the tears shed behind hands shielding faces were more for his son, the silverest brassy who bought rounds of ale for the enlisted men. It happened not even two weeks ago, but news spreads.

  News also grows. The night the Shins were there, Gizzada had counted just over two dozen enlisted men. But now it seems as if half of the enlisted men in Pools and the garrison in Idumea—easily several hundred—had also “been there” that night, singing with the brassy and meeting his family. And by the middle of that long dreadful night, every man considered himself part of that family as well.

  That was probably helped along by the ale, Gizzada considered later. He’d opened the tap and told Margo to take the night off. The boys needed to drown their sorrows freely in peace. They especially appreciated the free part.

  At one point Gizzada took down the sign advertising his simple menu, scratched off the word “Gizzada” in front of “sandwich,” and with a burned stick from the fire wrote, “Shin.”

  “That’s the new name, boys. My first Large Gizzada sandwich was actually created for the younger Shin, years ago. He was out at the forest’s edge, trying to track down some noise—never did figure it out. He’d missed his breakfast and midday meal, so Mrs. Shin ordered me to make him a couple of sandwiches. I put everything on it I could,” he remembered fondly to a packed and silent room. “He told me later it was the best thing he ever ate, and that I should sell them in the marketplace. So later I did. In honor of all Shins—generals and colonels—the sandwich is now a Shin.”

  The men held up their mugs of ale in honor, and a weepy Sergeant Oblong patted Gizzada on the back. His shift was coming up before dawn, and he needed to get back to the fort.

  He was still thinking about generals and colonels and fathers and sons and sandwiches when he strolled through the back door of the stables and noticed a movement in a dark corner. Training told him to draw his weapon, but instinct told him to quietly see what it was.

  Oblong didn’t have time to tell Shin about the sandwich honor, or to officially meet the master sergeant he remembered Shin telling him was his best friend. They looked as if they’d had a fight with a barn which they’d obviously won, and now they needed horses to get to Idumea.

  Oblong put his fingers to his lips, gestured for the men to wait outside, then found Snyd’s favorite horse, and his second favorite horse, and led them quietly out of the dark stables.

  Shin patted him on the back, the master sergeant winked gratefully at him, and off they rode.

  Oblong stood at attention, saluting, for a full minute after they were out of sight.

  ---

  The Administrators would most likely not be in their offices until mid-morning. That was Perrin’s evaluation, and the reason Shem used to force him to rest for a few hours before they made their presence known in Idumea.

  They were in a barn that didn’t appear to have been used for some time, but there were old bags of oats suitable for Snyd’s horses to feed on. Shem had taken Perrin’s sword and long knife, and ordered him to rest for a while.

  “You need sleep too, you know,” Perrin said to him, lying down in the straw.

  “I need to watch you more, though.” Shem sat near him.

  Perrin’s voice was calm as he closed his eyes. “You can trust me, Shem. If something happens to me, Mahrree and the children will be alone. The only man I could ever imagine taking care of them would be you. But then again, I don’t think I could tolerate any man marrying my widow, especially you. I’d find a way to haunt you in that bedroom you just made.”

  “I’ve no doubt you would,” Shem chuckled nervously. �
��And I don’t think I could bear Mrs. Peto as a mother-in-law, anyway,” he tried to lighten the moment. “She was there nearly every day while we worked on your bedroom, giving me bad advice, telling me what I was doing wrong . . . you’re a braver man than I am.”

  “Then I guess you wouldn’t want to marry her, either.” Perrin sounded almost as if he were smiling.

  “What?”

  “The night you brought her to our house after the land tremor, well, there’s something you don’t know about that . . .”

  When Perrin finished mortifying Shem about Mrs. Peto’s fleeting fancy for him, Perrin sighed. “I could be a builder too, Shem.”

  “A builder?”

  “Just give it all up. Be a builder. Feels good to create, not destroy.”

  Shem was thoughtful for a moment. “But we need you as a colonel. Not all that you do is destructive, Perrin.”

  “I had it all figured out, too, a few days ago,” Perrin continued as if not hearing Shem. “When I thought my parents—” He stopped.

  Shem searched for a distraction. “Do you know what this reminds me of, Perrin?”

  “No, Shem, what does our lying in a barn remind you of?” Perrin’s tone was a touch impatient.

  “Not so much the barn, but . . . the time you failed to train the cook properly.” Shem smiled into the dark.

  “The cook?”

  “The one that transferred over to Scrub a few of years ago? He cooked because cooking was the only thing he could do? Not really qualified to do that, either. His chicken stew was, well, hard to forget and for all the wrong reasons. I don’t know why he thought mushrooms belonged in everything. Stews, breads, cakes—”

  Perrin grunted in response to get him to continue the story.

  “That accident was one of the oddest things I’ve ever seen.” Shem chuckled softly. “We tried so hard to teach him. No matter how much I worked him and how much you trained him, he could never manage to hold that sword steady.”

  “I’ve tried unsuccessfully to forget him,” Perrin sighed. “Scrawniest thing I ever saw. No muscle. Still don’t know how he managed to fall on me.”

  Shem chuckled again, trying to make it sound natural. “If I hadn’t witnessed that accident myself, I would’ve sworn he was a Guarder in disguise sent to get you. But he truly was just that clumsy. Horrible gash. And I think he was more traumatized by it than you. He kept saying over and over, ‘I’ve stabbed the major!’”

  “And how does this barn remind you of that?” Perrin asked, a little hotly.

  Shem sobered. “I remember one of those nights when you were in so much pain that you couldn’t sleep. Must have been the second night, when all those stitches in your side started turning red.”

  Perrin ran his hand along his liver where the white scar remained. “That was a bad night,” he whispered. “Mahrree was so anxious. She’d never seen so much of my blood before. She never left my side, trying to care for me. Refused to let me stay at the surgeon’s. You sent her upstairs to bed so she could finally rest,” Perrin recalled, “and you stayed on a chair next to me while I was on the sofa. We talked all night, didn’t we? You told me the most ridiculous stories to distract me from the pain. Even something about putting a piece of moldy bread on the stitches to prevent them from becoming infected.”

  For just a moment, Perrin’s voice sounded a little lighter.

  “I still think of that each time I see bread gone moldy. Peto came out of his room that night, remember? He didn’t dare come near me—I think my moaning worried him—but he sat in his doorway listening to your stories. Must have been about four years old.”

  Shem smiled. “He fell asleep there, too. I put him back in bed just before Mahrree came down in the morning.”

  “You stayed for five days and nights, didn’t you?” Perrin said quietly. “Supposed to have gone on leave, but you spent your leave at our house helping Mahrree, instead of visiting your father. I still need to apologize to him in person about that some year.”

  Shem waved that off. “He didn’t mind. Mahrree had the surgeon’s assistants so riled up none of them wanted to stay around for long after checking you each hour. I was just glad the timing was right so I could stay and help her.”

  “You’ve always done more than just ‘help,’ Shem,” Perrin whispered, a slight tremble in his voice. “I remember earlier that year when my father sent me all over the world training the fort commanders. Mahrree told me how you put yourself on guard duty every night at our house while I was gone for those weeks. You even spent one night in Jaytsy’s room when there was a bad storm and she was missing me. Jaytsy never thought Mahrree was ‘strong’ enough to keep away the thunder,” Perrin smiled briefly at the memory. “But you were strong enough. Mahrree said it wasn’t until you lay down on the floor next to Jaytsy’s bed that she finally felt safe for the night and went to sleep. You’ve always been there for our family, Shem. You’re more of a brother to us than any real brother could have been.”

  “My pleasure,” Shem whispered.

  “Someday I hope to tell your father in person how much you’ve done for us. Maybe I’ll have to get down to Flax or Waves again. He won’t be taking any more trips, will he?”

  “He still feels bad about that,” Shem told him. “The one time you go all the way down there to train the fort commanders, and my sister takes him to Coast for a week! As if he doesn’t see enough salty water in Waves. It’s been what, about ten years now? He’s still talks about meeting you some day.”

  “The one time I had the opportunity to do something for you and him, and I missed it,” Perrin said. “We just take and take from you, and you just keep giving to us.”

  “It’s not like that at all, Perrin,” Shem said diffidently. “You’ve given me everything. You’ve given me a family in Edge.”

  “As long as that satisfies you, Shem. You’re a man who doesn’t ask for much.”

  Shem squirmed. “Perrin, I mentioned that night when you were hurt so long ago not because I wanted you to compliment my desperation to feel like I belong to a family, but because I wanted you to remember that time. I was as worried about you as Mahrree was. She said that injury was worse than what you suffered when your back was slashed in the forest almost five years earlier.”

  “But that scar’s more impressive,” Perrin said in a pitiful attempt to be light-hearted.

  Shem chuckled obligingly. “It is, I agree. But that gash to your liver cause you so much pain, and there was nothing we could do for you but stay by your side and be with you while you suffered.

  “But you made it through, Perrin,” Shem said earnestly. “You endured it, and eventually improved. The last time I saw your scar, it was barely visible. Tonight’s a lot like that. You’re enduring a tremendous pain, and I’m terribly worried about you. But you’re a strong man, and you’ll get through it. I wish I knew more of what to do to help you, but no matter what, I’ll stay by your side until you heal.”

  “I know you will,” Perrin whispered. “Thank you. I have to confess I was hoping you would follow me.”

  “And stop you?”

  “And help me. Again,” Perrin said darkly.

  Shem stiffened. “Help you with what, Perrin? What do you want me to do?”

  Perrin was silent for a moment before he said, “Keep me safe. Take care of my family.”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to do for the past fourteen years.”

  Perrin stared up at the roof of the barn for a few minutes. Eventually he rolled over. “Wake me in three hours, all right?”

  Shem would’ve done it, if he hadn’t fallen asleep himself. When he awoke with a start, it was because the sunrise was pouring in through the cracks of the barn and hitting him in the face. He looked in front of him and saw the impression in the straw where the colonel had been.

  “PERRIN!” he yelled as he scrambled to his feet. He rushed outside and found the two horses with Perrin adjusting the straps.

  “Just
getting everything ready,” he said easily. “Thought I’d let you sleep a few more minutes. Trust me, all right?”

  “I’m trying to,” said Shem, leaning against the barn wall and massaging his eyes.

  “It’s less than an hour to the Administrators’ Headquarters from here. Are you still ready?”

  “Yes, I’m ready.”

  “Good. Now Shem,” Perrin said as he climbed onto his horse, “when we’re there, that’s when you should stop trusting me.”

  “I’m ready for that, too.

  Chapter 23 ~ “Once she even caught a falcon.”