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

by Trish Mercer

  But it was the garish buttons that really stood out. Their golden hue sparkled brighter than the dull silver buttons of the lower ranks. Perrin had never before realized what an ugly alloy brass was.

  “I’m really dreading this night, Mahrree,” he confessed quietly as he fingered the shiny surface of the top button, unintentionally making it more lustrous. “If we make a good impression, we’re doomed to return. If we do poorly, my parents deal with the consequences.”

  “How about we just do our best, and let the Creator decide the path for us?” Mahrree suggested gently. “Maybe His plan for us involves tonight somehow, and this trip.”

  “Now you’re sounding like my father,” he mumbled.

  Mahrree released a loud exhale that held more frustration than relief. “And now you’re starting to irritate me. Perrin Shin, get dressed and do your duty! Let’s just get this over with! I’ll be back in five minutes, and if you aren’t ready, I’m sending your mother in here to dress you!”

  Perrin leaped to his feet, saluted, and grinned in terror.

  ---

  Mahrree paused as she stepped out of her bedroom where her husband was obediently changing, and took in the Grand Hall. Decorated in vines and flowers that dripped artfully from the balcony above, the main floor of the Hall was lined in chairs and side tables littered with spring blossoms and elaborate candlesticks soon to be lit. In less than an hour here would be the elite of Idumea—soldier and citizen—dancing and mingling in front of her bedroom door.

  And also down the Hall, and up the stairs, and likely on the balcony, and probably into the study, where Relf’s sick bed had been recently removed, and into the large gathering room and the massive eating room . . .

  She began to feel claustrophobic in Idumea’s second largest mansion.

  Fortunately the three long tables for The Dinner had been set up parallel to each other on the other side of the house in the west wing, where she warily made her way now.

  As she neared the fo-yay, she noticed a sofa from the gathering room had been placed strategically against a corner. Sitting there stoically was an older man in his dark blue uniform that was covered in more metal than made up his sword, watching every point of the mansion, from the front door to the staircase to both wings and even out to the stone terrace in the back garden.

  High General Shin leaned against his crutch as he watched the small army of servants, caterers, and soldiers hurriedly set the tables with more dishes and silverware than Mahrree had ever seen together in one place. He squinted analytically when he saw Mahrree, but his eyes were twinkling. In his deep rocky voice he growled, “Ready to meet your doom tonight, Mrs. Shin?”

  She assumed his formal tone was a hint, considering the number of strangers working just in front of him. It was odd to be so formal in one’s own home.

  Mahrree chuckled nervously. “You’re not helping things, High General.”

  He patted the sofa. “We’re not allowed to help, if that’s what you’re hoping to do. We’re allowed, however, to supervise.”

  “Ah,” she said as she sat next to him. “So I’m at a complete loss, then.”

  Relf leaned over to her. “Where is he?” he said in a slightly anxious tone.

  “Getting dressed. Finally.”

  “Maybe you should have stayed in your room and supervised him?”

  “Uh,” she paused to find the best way to say it, “considering his state of mind, my presence would have been a hindrance.”

  Relf chuckled quietly. “Understood. Well, you do look . . . very nice,” he said, trying to sound as if he frequently gave women compliments. He firmed his grip on his crutch, concerned that he’d unintentionally crossed some line.

  “So do you,” Mahrree felt was necessary to add, and also found herself in unfamiliar territory. But she knew how to get somewhere else quickly. “You hardly seem to have nearly died last week.”

  “Thank you for that,” he said impassively as he watched the bustle of activity in front of him. “And you hardly seem to be about to pass out again.”

  “And I thank you for that,” she said formally.

  He smiled ever so faintly. “But I have to admit, I am a bit worried about . . . There she is.”

  Mahrree sighed with him.

  Down the wide staircase and past a maid who was removing invisible bits of dust from the fretwork floated the yellow butterfly. Jaytsy’s nearly black eyes were glowing with anticipation, her cheeks were rosy, her dark brown hair was piled remarkably on her head with curled dangles framing her face, and her every movement was dainty yet vibrant—

  “Has he seen her yet?” Relf whispered to Mahrree as Jaytsy giggled at a private who shyly handed her a blossom he’d stolen from a centerpiece.

  “I don’t know,” she whispered back.

  “It’s different, isn’t it,” Relf started uncertainly. “When the female is yours?” He glared at the private whose gaze followed Jaytsy, now fairly dancing between two tables oohing at this and that, then patting a caterer in approval as the older woman placed a platter of something green and orange on the table.

  When the private failed to realize he was being eyed by the highest commander, Relf cleared his throat with alarming volume. The private did a little jump—as did the dozen or so others in the Grand Hall—and immediately the hapless soldier turned to the High General. Seeing the threatening look in his hardened eyes, the soldier quickly went back to fussing with silverware, even though he was on chair detail. Jaytsy flitted obliviously to the gathering room.

  “Well done,” Mahrree whispered to Relf. “Can you do that all night?”

  “I’m sure Perrin will. I’ll just serve as backup. She really is quite . . .” He held up his hands in positions that made him immediately uncomfortable.

  “Agreed,” Mahrree chuckled. “She’s very much a Shin. Perrin’s slowly catching on just how stunning she is.”

  “There’s a great deal of her mother in her as well.” Relf gently elbowed her.

  “Well,” Mahrree shrugged in embarrassment.

  “Where’s Peto?” Relf asked, keeping a sharp eye on the private who kept glancing nervously back at him. He finally remembered he was to be lining up chairs, and struggled with exactly how one did that.

  “Dressed, as of some time ago. Hiding in his bedroom though.”

  “That’s probably for the best,” Relf nodded. “Joriana wants him by her side so she can supervise him.”

  “The poor boy!”

  A controlled but loud shout from the area of the kitchen made Relf and Mahrree wince. Apparently the head of the hired hands Joriana had employed wasn’t happy. “This was NOT how it was done last year! Mrs. Shin!”

  From the eating hall, where platters of lamb were placed to be trotted out to the tables later, Joriana—in a flurry of deep purple silk and grumbling none too elegantly—bustled to the kitchen to set a few things straight.

  Mahrree pursed her lips in sympathy, even though she didn’t know who to feel sorry for.

  Relf verbalized her response. “Poor all of us.”

  As they chuckled together Relf bounced his fist lightly off her skirt. “About tonight, don’t worry so much about Administrators watching you. Just do the old smile-and-nod—and by the way, that means not saying words—”

  She shot him a playful glare.

  “—and if someone does ask you a pointed question or tries to get you to say something you’d rather not, remember that you’re a host this evening, and offer to get them a plate of food. That always throws them.”

  Mahrree exhaled. “Good idea. I’ll remember that.”

  “Besides, I’m pretty sure they’ll all be watching me instead. Several of them aren’t too happy I’m recovering,” he told her in a low voice. “And I know of a few colonels who were likely hoping this mansion would have been vacated by now, and that tonight a new High General would have been announced instead of in two years. They’re all coming to see just how spry I look tonight.”


  Mahrree gave him a quick once over. Then she evaluated him again, more closely.

  He was different than in years past. He was still solid and massive and imposing, but there was gentleness around his black eyes that she’d never noticed before. Maybe because it wasn’t there before. His hair, a mixture of black, gray, and a few new white hairs, had been trimmed neatly the day before, and the color was coming back to his still somewhat gaunt face. His perpetual scowl and squint were missing, replaced by an expression of earnestness. Altogether, Mahrree realized, he was quite a striking man.

  “You look remarkably well,” she assured him. He’d instinctively sat a little taller, she noticed, during her inspection. “All things considered. But you forgot your sword.”

  “I left it off on purpose,” he confided. “It’s rather heavy. Can’t effectively put off the illusion of strength and resilience when my sword’s tipping me over.”

  Mahrree chuckled quietly with him and bounced her own fist on his leg. She’d always been nervous around High General Shin, but she quite enjoyed the company of Relf.

  “Everything fine out here?” a shrill voice stopped their chuckling. Joriana stood before them with her hands on her hips, seemingly insulted that the two of them appeared so relaxed when such an event was about to occur.

  “Yes, dear,” Relf said promptly. “The Hall’s shaping up nicely, everyone’s working diligently, and we even seem to be a bit ahead of schedule. And you look very nice tonight.”

  Joriana blinked, a bit startled. Apparently she wasn’t accustomed to receiving compliments from Relf either.

  “Why, thank you.” She looked around and wrung her hands, unsure of what to do next since he’d thrown her off her trajectory.

  Relf cocked his head toward the east wing. “Perrin?”

  “Yes!” she exclaimed, and marched loudly down the Grand Hall. “You BETTER be dressed!”

  To Mahrree’s questioning look, Relf said, “She enjoys the drama. If things are going too smoothly, she gets nervous. She needs something to fight against to keep her going. That’s why she’s been such an excellent match for me. She keeps me going. They never would have found me after the tremor if it hadn’t been for her persistence.”

  The High General cleared his throat to expel the emotion that was rising there, and Mahrree, pretending to not notice the shininess in his eyes, turned instead to watch the lowering of the chandeliers.

  A moment later from down the Hall they both heard the exclamation of, “Mother! Do you mind?”

  “You know, Perrin, some officers actually practice getting dressed quickly? Oh, do get over yourself. I changed that bottom more times than I care to remember—”

  As the bedroom door in the east wing slammed shut, Relf and Mahrree snorted so loudly it echoed in the Great Hall, despite the decorations and tablecloths to muffle the sound.

  Or maybe their snorts of laughter were echoed by the dozen servants and soldiers still setting up, pretending not to hear the exchange between mother and son.

  “Oh, my ribs, my ribs,” Relf wailed quietly and slouched back on the sofa, still chuckling.

  “Poor Mother Shin,” Mahrree giggled. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her in such a state!”

  “Granted, she’s rather more anxious this year than in years past,” Relf admitted after he caught his breath again. “But that’s because the most important visitors she’s ever had are coming this year.”

  “Oh, dear,” Mahrree clenched her hands nervously. “Who?”

  “Her son and her daughter-in-law,” he said quietly.

  Mahrree stopped fidgeting.

  “Told me the other night that she wanted everything to be perfect. Of all the dignitaries and elite of Idumea, she most desperately wants to impress you, Mahrree. Because if you’re impressed, you’ll influence Perrin. She feels it’s time for her children to come home.”

  Mahrree swallowed hard and watched with Relf the lighting of the candles in the chandelier.

  Chapter 16 ~ “Those kind don’t belong here.”

  Gadiman surveyed the scene in front of him and scowled.

  Hundreds of guests were stuffed into the mansion, with many spilling out onto the terraces to enjoy the surprisingly warm evening. Officers, wives, Administrators, citizens, teenagers, a few small children, and even several enlisted men wearing eager and uncomfortable expressions lined the walls of the Grand Hall, talking and laughing and . . . mingling, the word might be.

  Dozens of couples were in the middle of the Hall, twirling to bouncy little melodies played by the ten musicians who sounded to Gadiman like the raucous birds that rudely woke him every morning. The Chairman had ordered Gadiman to come, and he conveniently missed The Dinner portion. Small talk was not one of his strengths. Nor did it seem it would be necessary right now either, since several people took a large step away from him as he entered the open front doors.

  Watch people. That’s what the Chairman said to do. And don’t wear the red coat.

  He always ‘watched’ people. He had crates full of files to prove it.

  But Mal had said there was a different kind of watching. Gadiman looked around the crowded mansion for a corner to lurk in. He praised himself again for choosing to wear the long black coat which blended with the shadows cast by the hundreds of candles burning along the walls, and from the chandeliers hanging over the dance area.

  He noticed an empty corner opposite of the front doors and walked straight toward it. Several dancing couples tripped and dodged away to avoid colliding with the unexpected presence of the Administrator of Loyalty as he marched through the dance floor, but he didn’t pay them any attention. He positioned himself against the corner, feeling safe that no one could be behind him.

  And then he watched.

  Five minutes later he wondered if it was enough. It really was quite tiresome and he wasn’t getting anything out of it.

  But then he recognized Mrs. Mahrree Shin talking with a girl that looked like a puff of yellow smoke. He focused on the girl’s dark eyes: they were exactly like Colonel Shin’s. She must have been their daughter.

  Mrs. Shin, who had wedged herself between side tables loaded with leftovers and desserts, was dressed in a gray silk gown with a skirt that was uselessly twice as full as the woman was wide. She smiled as she handed her flushed daughter a glass of water.

  A young officer in his dress uniform stood waiting, presumably for his turn to dance with the girl, but his face was partially obscured by other guests. The Shins’ daughter handed the glass back to her mother, smiled at the young officer, and took his arm.

  As they turned to the dance floor, Gadiman stood taller when he recognized the sandy-haired boy who looked a great deal like his mother: Lieutenant Lemuel Thorne, Cush’s grandson. Gadiman spotted Colonel QayinThorne over by another corner and quickly made his way to him.

  “Do you see what’s going on out there?” Gadiman interrupted the colonel’s discussion with a visiting major.

  “Administrator Gadiman,” Colonel Thorne said coolly, “may I introduce you to . . . . Hmm, looks like he left. How surprising.”

  “Out there!” Gadiman pointed. “Your son?”

  Thorne looked out at the dancers and a partial smile came across his face. “Yes, he’s dancing with Miss Shin.”

  “Do you think that’s wise?” Gadiman hissed.

  “Most definitely. I instructed him to find her, in fact.”

  “Why?”

  Thorne turned his glare full on to Gadiman. With his heavy brow and prominent nose, Thorne always reminded Gadiman of an angry eagle. Gadiman had tried a few times to replicate the expression in a mirror, but he always came off as constipated rather than intimidating.

  “Because, Gadiman,” Thorne sharpened his gaze into piercing, “consider: the granddaughter of the High General of Idumea with the grandson of his Advising General. Cush told me himself that the Shin boy wants nothing to do with the army. If Colonel Shin ever becomes a general, he will have no heir to con
tinue the tradition. But, if he has a ready son-in-law . . .”

  Gadiman nodded. “Ah, I see. After Perrin Shin is High General, then your son would be the first High General Thorne.”

  Thorne’s low gurgling noise made Gadiman take a hesitant step backward.

  “No,” Thorne said between clenched teeth, “I will be the first High General Thorne! I would have been promoted to general by this evening had a certain old man been left to rot in his cellar storage room. Cush would have been named High General for the next four years until he retires, and I would have been made his Advisor. But, as it is, I’ll have to bide my time a bit longer, and make sure my son secures the line for yet another generation of generals.”

  Gadiman nodded. He could appreciate that kind of long-term planning. But, “I thought Mal wanted to bring Shin to Idumea?”

  “Oh, he will,” Thorne said with a smile that tried to be genuine but was too smug. “Snyd was hoping for a move, but the garrison needs a new colonel in charge of requisitions and other mundane things, so Shin can have the pleasure of serving under me for a few years.”

  Something in the way Thorne said “pleasure” made Gadiman’s skin crawl, and he decided that was another Thorne tactic he could try to practice.

  “It will also give him some experience being my Advisor when I’m High General.”

  Gadiman considered that. “But won’t having him here make future research plans . . . complicated?”

  “A natural assumption,” Thorne intoned, “coming from someone who is easily confused. But for me, it will create a scenario that will provide years of fascinating entertainment. Mal and Brisack aren’t the only ones who can straddle the fence to use both sides. Besides, my legs are much longer. The world hasn’t seen anything yet.”

  Gadiman blinked, sensing he’d been insulted somewhere in there, but was too intrigued by what Thorne was intimating to mention it.