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

by Trish Mercer

  “I thought you were feeling better,” Mahrree said as she massaged his neck.

  “No, no, no . . . that stuff’s worse than mead. I drank mead a couple of times back in Command School, and the same thing always happened—sicker than an expecting woman.”

  Mahrree frantically wrenched open the window on his side of the coach, while his children burst out laughing.

  “Too loud,” he murmured pitifully. “Please don’t.”

  “Yes, please don’t,” Mahrree said to him. “And if you have to, aim it out the window.”

  “Don’t anybody tell my parents what happened when we get back,” he mumbled. “They’re probably asleep already, but I don’t want them knowing.”

  Jaytsy turned to her brother. “Did you have any idea we had such a rebellious father? He’s been drinking, and now he wants us to sneak him in past his parents?”

  Mahrree snorted as their children laughed. “I’m sorry, Perrin, but really—it’s rather funny.”

  “Another reason why I hate Idumea,” he grumped as he flopped on the bench. His family’s continued laughter didn’t help.

  After a few minutes Jaytsy said slowly, “Father?”

  “Hmmf?” he mumbled from his prone position where Mahrree was now massaging his head.

  “Are Colonel Snyd and Colonel Thorne rich?”

  Peto sat up a bit at that.

  “Hm. Suppose so, if they can pay that much to eat things I crunch under my boots.”

  Peto and Jaytsy exchanged glances in the dark coach, and Mahrree knew what the next question would be.

  “So, is Colonel Shin now rich, too?”

  “Of course we are!” Mahrree declared. “We’ve been rich for many years, with a comfortable home, good friends and family, and each other.”

  “Isn’t that cute, Peto,” Jaytsy said in the same tone her father had used earlier, “how she still thinks we’re only five and four years old?”

  “What does it matter how much he earns?” Mahrree said. “We have all we need.”

  Perrin waved aimlessly. “What your mother said.”

  “So we are rich,” Peto nodded in approval. “Now we’ll have to take the coach everywhere in Edge.”

  “No . . . no . . . no,” Perrin droned slowly and forced himself into a semi-sitting position. “Pay is based on years of service, ranking, and size of fort. The garrison and the fort at Pools are both much larger than Edge, which is the second smallest fort.”

  “So Jayts,” Peto explained, “Father’s the second least rich colonel in the world.”

  “Ah, but Moorland doesn’t have a colonel,” Jaytsy reminded him. “So he is the least rich colonel in the world.”

  “Ah, well done Colonel Shin,” Peto said smugly, and he and his sister chuckled.

  But Perrin wasn’t amused. “And since Moorland is dying as a village, there’s not even a major there either anymore,” he reminded them sternly.

  His children quieted and looked down.

  Mahrree wasn’t unsympathetic. It was easy to forget that others were losing their homes while they were living in a mansion. She’d been guilty of forgetting about home herself.

  To try to swing the conversation around again, she said, “Oh, your father’s not getting that much of a pay increase.”

  “Uhh . . .” Perrin said slowly.

  “Need the window?”

  “No . . . it’s that . . . the pay increase.”

  Mahrree frowned at him. “We already discussed it. And,” she added more quietly, “what you’ll be doing with it.”

  “Yes, but it’s a little larger than you may think, and . . . it also comes with a bonus.”

  “How much?”

  Perrin shifted uncomfortably. “Enough to buy a new house. Apparently brass buttons need bigger houses.”

  “As if what you live in reflects who you really are?” Mahrree scoffed.

  “I’m not in the mood to argue with you, or agree with you, wife,” Perrin moaned. He took up her hand and put it on his temple again so she’d massage it.

  “Just agree with me, then.” Mahrree kissed his cheek.

  “Usually do.” He closed his eyes.

  Jaytsy and Peto exchanged anxious looks. “Do we have to?” Jaytsy said. “Move, I mean? I know our house is rather small but it’s the only home I’ve ever known.”

  “I don’t want to move either,” Peto announced.

  Mahrree smiled at them. “Nor do we. Right?”

  Perrin grunted. “No one in Edge expects us to move. And the gold’s already going another direction,” he added cryptically.

  “What’s that mean?” Peto wondered.

  “It means, your Father and I already discussed that it could go to someone who could use it more than us,” Mahrree explained. “Although I wasn’t aware of that bonus.”

  “Been working out how to deal with it,” he mumbled. “Think I have it figured out.”

  “Where’s it going?” Jaytsy asked.

  “Where all my future pay is going: to people who need it more. It’s not as if my duties are changing, or my hours increasing, but your mother and I know of someone who knows of someone—” He paused to work out if that was the correct thing to say, “So we’re going to just slip it over there.”

  To Mahrree’s pleasure, Jaytsy grinned. “I like that! Someone’s going to get a welcome surprise, and we don’t have to move.”

  “Like that man in the rubbish pile at the garrison?” Peto said.

  Perrin opened his eyes. “What, son?”

  “The gold—is it going to that man we saw trying to get a blanket out of the rubbish pile?” A quality in the tone of Peto’s voice suggested he already knew the answer was no.

  “I have looked for him,” Perrin said quietly. “But I haven’t seen him again. I’ll keep trying, though, each time I have to go to the garrison. There are a few things I’d like to give him, but no—the pay increase isn’t going to him, but it’s a nice idea.”

  Peto nodded slowly. “I’ll just imagine that someone did that for him already. That’s why you can’t find him again.”

  Mahrree blinked back tears. The boy could be so obnoxious, then abruptly so compassionate. It was if it was his secret, and he accidentally revealed his softer nature.

  “Someone will take care of him, I’m sure,” Jaytsy said with hollow confidence, and she patted her brother comfortingly on the leg.

  Mahrree sniffled. It was times like this she thought she could envision her children as adults, and the kind of people they could become astonished her—

  “Listen Jaytsy—Mother’s sniffling. It sounds like she’s about to sing about her long-lost love,” said Peto earnestly.

  And just like that, they were snickering teenagers again.

  “Let’s talk about something different, such as . . .” Mahrree faltered, because there was only one other thing that overwhelmed her mind lately, and since she couldn’t come up with anything else, she finally said, “what your grandparents expect of us in a few days at The Dinner.”

  Perrin lunged for the window and lost half a Large Gizzada on the road to Idumea.

  It was about ten minutes after that—after the coachman assured Colonel Shin that they could get the outside of the coach all cleaned again, no problem, sir—that Jaytsy said, “Why does the garrison have so many men? It’s not like Idumea ever gets attacked.”

  “And they’ll claim that’s why,” Perrin said, lying back down again and resting his head on Mahrree’s lap. At least he was finally sounding more alert, she thought. “So many soldiers keep the place safe.”

  “But it’s the villages on the edges of the world that need protection, isn’t it?” Jaytsy insisted.

  “And that, my daughter,” Perrin said, “is why you’d never make a good officer or Administrator. You’re thinking logically, not politically. The only thing logic and politics share are a few letters. Idumea’s so messed up,” he mumbled as he repositioned Mahrree’s hand to rub his forehead. “A city where a fi
fteen-year-old girl is more reasonable than dozens of adult men—”

  “Hey, she’s right,” Peto said, startled. And not to be outdone by his sister who smiled smugly, he added, “It’s all of the northern villages that get hit the most, then the ones in the west.”

  “Doesn’t Trades have a sizable fort?” Mahrree asked. “In the southwest.”

  Perrin grunted. “Largest outside of the garrison. Fifteen hundred men,” he said to the gasps of his family. “And you know why? The gold and silver mine. Five hundred soldiers are on duty, round the clock, guarding the roads in and out, stationed around the perimeter, and inspecting every worker. The mine is where the wealth is, so that’s where the soldiers are. Any time there’s even a hint of a presence in the forest twenty miles away, the garrison sends down another one or two thousand men just to keep the mine protected.”

  “How often have they been raided?” Mahrree asked.

  “Since the beginning when Guarders made their presence known again? I think only two or three times, and only once was successful, back when Jaytsy was still a baby.”

  “Wait a minute!” Jaytsy exclaimed loudly, and Perrin flinched and rubbed his temples until Mahrree’s fingers could get over there for him. “We’ve been hit dozens of times! By thieves! And Moorland—didn’t you say they lost a small herd of cows not long ago? We should have the majority of the soldiers in the north!”

  Perrin sighed. “Moorland got hit several times a year,” he intoned sadly. “Their major requested more soldiers, my father tried to convince the Command Board they were needed, and always the three Administrators shot it down. Cush is also on that Board, but he quit trying to even bring it up.”

  “But why?” Now Peto was angry.

  “Politics, Peto. Moorland is small, far away, and no one important has ever come from there. That’s why no one in Idumea cares it’s been wiped out by the land tremor. They’re not rich, so their taxes were minimal. They’re strange people who actually like the mountains, are happy with simply raising cattle and crops, and don’t even have an arena. They don’t benefit the Administrators at all, so they see no reason to send protection or assistance.”

  “But that’s . . .” Jaytsy spluttered.

  Mahrree nodded sadly. “Politics. The Administrators care only about two kinds of people: those who bring them wealth and power, and those who threaten to take it away. Moorland does neither. Same with Edge.”

  “Your mother’s right,” Perrin told his children. “Trades is the source of all wealth. Moorland provides nothing but some wheat and corn—which is far more valuable in an emergency than shiny metals, anyway. The Administrator of Taxation stores the grain until the next harvest, at which point they simply throw it away to make room for the new.”

  “What?” Peto exclaimed. “They could give that away instead of throwing it away! Like to those homeless people, by the river.”

  “There’s a lot Idumea could do better, son,” Perrin grumbled.

  “I hate Idumea,” Jaytsy murmured.

  Perrin grinned, and Mahrree patted his cheek.

  “Why didn’t Moorland complain?” Peto wondered. “Look at everything here, and compare it what they have there, and—”

  “Ah, but that’s the thing, Peto,” Perrin pointed out, struggling to sit up again. “How many people do you know—besides soldiers—that ever travel to another village?”

  His children pondered that for a moment.

  “Mr. Hegek came from somewhere else,” Jaytsy offered. “And sometimes students leave to go to a university. But after that?”

  “And why don’t people travel?” Perrin pressed.

  “Because they think it’s too hard, too far,” said Peto in disappointment. “Something bad will happen, and then when you get to someplace else, like Coast, everything is different than what you know—”

  “It’s a terrifying hassle,” Jaytsy summed up.

  “Exactly,” Perrin told them. “So no one travels, anywhere. And if they do, it’s because of an emergency, or they think they’re dying and should see something first. The travel is usually tied to something unpleasant, so the whole trip becomes unpleasant.”

  “Then people complain,” Mahrree said, “and talk about how strange and hard it all was, and so naturally no one ever wants to go or do anything. It’s easier to stay at home. And, you have to admit—our trip down here was anything but fun and relaxing.”

  Everyone grunted in agreement to that.

  “But I’d still do it over again,” Peto said in a small voice.

  “Me too,” Jaytsy chimed in. “It was hard, but I’m kind of proud of us. Actually,” she wrinkled her nose in thought, “it wasn’t all that bad. You can get used to it, like Grandmother and Grandfather have. Why, look at us now, going to Pools just for dinner and driving all the way back again! It’s almost as far as to Mountseen, but people rarely make that drive unless they have to.”

  Peto sat up taller. “So people don’t travel because they’re convinced it’s just too hard. That’s dumb!”

  Perrin chuckled sadly. “No, that’s just human nature. We believe the wrong things, and can’t think of alternatives. Like those in Moorland. I doubt any of them ever came to Idumea. In their minds, the city is the same as their little village, just . . . spread out more. Even their major had lingering fears from his time in Command School, so he likely never talked to anyone about the city. People from Moorland never imagine anything as grand as you’ve seen, so they didn’t think they could demand anything more of it. If they knew just how much Idumea possessed, I’m sure they’d insist on more soldiers and better defenses. As it is, they just grew used to their condition and saw no sense in fighting the inevitable.”

  “Grew used to their condition,” Mahrree murmured. “No sense in fighting . . .”

  That’s exactly what happened with the servants of the kings. That’s why they sat there for so long behind the rock wall, never insisting on anything better, never imagining anything more . . .

  Until High General Pere Shin put an end to the injustice by heaving himself over—

  “Perrin,” she said quietly, “we still have a ways before we get to the mansion . . . I think now would be a good time to tell the children about a certain group of servants, and a particular ancestor of theirs who did something for them.”

  Perrin smiled in the dark. “I think you’re right.”

  ---

  “Are you better now?” Mahrree asked Perrin as he crawled into bed with her. He’d spent the last half hour in the washing room next door, and she’d been wincing for him the entire time.

  “Yes, finally. I think.”

  “Still, I’m just going to stay over on this side for the night, if you don’t mind.”

  “See why I didn’t bring you mead that first night I came over to talk to you? I have a feeling you wouldn’t have agreed to marry me if I were throwing up in your washing room.”

  “Yet another thing I never knew about you—mead makes you sick. And yet another reason why you hate Idumea—it’s giving away all of your secrets.”

  He just groaned.

  She chuckled. “So, you said you had a plan for that house bonus?”

  “Going to give some of it to Brillen. By the way, when I was over at the garrison earlier, I was going through some paperwork and realized that way back when Brillen was first assigned to Edge, they figured his pay rate wrong. For the past sixteen years, he’s been underpaid. Of course, when I pointed that out, they were most embarrassed, and knew they should immediately rectify the situation. I told them I could carry that large amount of pay back with me, and bring their apologies personally as well.”

  “What a perfect coincidence!” Mahrree exclaimed. “You can add your pay to what they’re sending, plus your bonus—”

  Her husband’s chuckling stopped her.

  “What?”

  “I was hoping that all sounded believable. I guess I practiced it well enough.”

  “Wait—you just made
that all up?”

  “Even with my ale-ing mind. I’ll even tell him he shouldn’t mention it to them, because some of the higher-ups don’t know about the error, and the lower-downs would get even in more trouble. Best just accept the situation and also realize they’ll be sending a little extra each moon into his pay to make up for the inconvenience.”

  Mahrree nodded in the dark. “Clever man.” After another pause she said, “They took it so well tonight, didn’t they?”

  Perrin didn’t even have to ask what she was talking about. “They did,” his voice swelled with pride. “I spotted both of them in the study, staring at the portrait of their great-grandfather. I always thought he was painted a bit sterner than he really was, but in the candlelight he looks gentler, more like the man I knew. I think they saw that part of him tonight. He was a great High General.”

  “Just like your father,” Mahrree whispered.

  “Yes,” Perrin’s voice sounded like he was smiling. “He’s thwarted at every turn, but at least he keeps trying to do the right thing.”

  “Just like you. You, too, would make a great High General.”

  “Mahrree, I thought you wanted me to feel better.”

  Chapter 15 ~ “You get yourself ready. I will deal with my son.”

  The next several days passed in a blur, Mahrree realized on Jaytsy’s 15th Birthday, which they had celebrated the day before. Gizzada had sent over a few large birthday sandwiches yesterday and, either because he had a bit of a nasty streak in him or he really thought Relf would enjoy it, the food was accompanied by a large jug of ale.

  Relf had sniffed it and scowled. “Heard about this stuff, but not too sure about it. Perrin?”

  He was already leaning back in his chair when his father handed the jug over to him.

  “Ever tried it?”

  “You know I don’t drink anything stronger than water or new juice,” Perrin said curtly, and sent a withering look to his son whose mouth was open with some ready response he realized just then should likely remain in his head if he ever hoped to see fourteen.

  “Well, some have asked if we’ll be serving it at The Dinner. I suppose we could order a few jugs—”