by Trish Mercer
On day three after the land tremor, Mahrree scrubbed at the stain in her son’s trousers and sighed. She was tempted to just toss them and purchase a new pair, but the shop where she usually bought her son and husband’s work clothes had only ashes.
“Why am I bothering,” she said aloud, “because they’ll just get dirty again.”
“Am I interrupted something?” she heard Perrin’s voice in the kitchen, and he peered into the washing room. “I wasn’t aware you discussed your laundry with . . . the laundry.”
“No, I’m merely questioning my logic. Why are you home in the afternoon?”
He leaned against the doorframe. “Where are Jaytsy and Peto?”
“Out. I’ll join them in a bit—just needed to try to get these clothes clean and drying for tomorrow again. Jaytsy’s down the road helping to tend some children while their parents try to shore up their walls,” Mahrree said as she wrung out the cloth, “and Peto went to my mother’s to help some of the widows set their shelves aright. Brillen declared most of their houses safe now, and my mother’s friends were anxious to get their knick-knacks put back.”
Since Perrin didn’t have a clever or stinging commentary about old women and their clutter, she asked, “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”
He nodded slowly. “Just got word about Moorland. Considering its proximity to Deceit, I think it’s clear that the land tremor originated from the mountain. Moorland’s devastated.”
“Oh, no.”
“The lieutenant who brought me the message said the commander of the fort and the magistrate both agreed there’s really nothing salvageable. Probably three-fourths of the structures are a total loss, and hundreds have died, at least half the population. Since that leaves maybe only five hundred, they’ve decided that the survivors will simply leave for other villages. Moorland has died,” he whispered the last words.
Mahrree’s mouth fell open. “But . . . but . . . that can’t happen! How can a village just . . . die?”
“They don’t have the resources and manpower to rebuild,” Perrin said quietly. “And you know Idumea doesn’t care about the place. It was always the smallest village in the oddest place—at the base of a mountain that no one likes . . . what’s its purpose? I was rather shocked myself, but the more I think about it, the more I reluctantly agree: there’s nothing else to do but resettle the survivors. The major at the fort was trying to direct most of the villagers to places further away, where there hadn’t been so much damage, but he said several families seemed determined to head over here. He asked that we make a list of temporary homes for them, anything where the owners died, or maybe even have rooms in a school building available until something more permanent can be decided.”
Mahrree nodded sadly. “How awful. I can’t imagine leaving a village that’s been . . . ruined.”
Perrin shrugged. “Guess we don’t need to dream about visiting Terryp’s ruins anymore, now that we have our own.”
Mahrree gasped. “I just thought of something! Mrs. Reed was visiting her daughter in Moorland! Oh, my poor mother and her friends—”
But Perrin’s head shaking stopped her. “No, Mrs. Reed came back early. I saw her the afternoon before the land tremor. She wanted to bake something, but I told her to go in for a lie-down until Hycymum’s Herd came back from the market . . . why are you looking at me like that?”
Mahrree swallowed. “Perrin, didn’t you know? Mrs. Reed’s house was partially collapsed, but no one worried about it just yet because they thought Mrs. Reed had stayed with her daughter—”
“In Moorland,” Perrin finished her sentence quickly and rubbed his forehead. “I need to get a search team over there immediately.”
“Peto’s over there,” Mahrree reminded him. “What if he happens to go to her house and—”
The knocking at the front door startled them, and they headed quickly to the gathering room when they heard the door open.
Peto, his head down, was walking toward his bedroom. At the front door stood two soldiers, one of them Sergeant Major Grandpy Neeks.
Mahrree’s shoulders sagged as she read the expression on Grandpy’s bleak face.
“Ma’am, Sir,” Neeks said quietly as Peto closed his bedroom door behind him.
Mahrree was about to follow Peto, but Perrin caught her by the arm. “Grandpy,” Perrin said softly, “What happened?”
“Those women your mother-in-law mixes with? They were tasking young Mr. Shin there to go to each other’s houses to find what-nots and shing-bangs, I don’t know what else. Apparently in his jogs he passed the one cottage that was partially destroyed, and he smelled something.”
Perrin and Mahrree were both already wincing.
Grandpy winced back. “Poor boy was only trying to be helpful, being a good grandson—shouldn’t have to discover something like that at his age. Had a couple of soldiers in the area on their way over to evaluate the house for Karna. They got there just after your son noticed the hand under the debris—”
Mahrree’s hands were in front of her mouth, trying to hold back the horror, and tears streaked down her face. Perrin cleared his throat gruffly.
“The boy took it well, bravely trying to help the soldiers move the rubble off the body, but once Mrs. Peto and her friends came over, and started their shrieking—well, that was too much for young Mr. Shin. I was one road over when I heard the commotion, arrived just as your son sat himself down on some blocks and started crying. Didn’t say nothing to him; you know how men need to be. Sat with him for a time until he quieted down, then brought him home . . . He’s a solid boy, Mrs. Shin. Just needs to—” Grandpy shrugged.
Mahrree nodded vigorously, and Perrin cleared his throat again. “Thank you, Grandpy. Glad you were the one to be there for him. I’ll accompany you back to the site. And here I thought we were done uncovering the dead.”
“Mrs. Reed makes number one hundred and two,” Grandpy said. “Maybe she’s the last.”
Perrin sighed. “Corporal,” he addressed the second soldier who had been waiting patiently, “find Rector Yung and see that he gets to the Cottages as soon as possible. They’re going to need his attention.” He turned to Mahrree. “Give Peto about ten more minutes, then go in and check on him. Treat him like a man—”
Mahrree frowned. “And what’s that supposed to mean? Besides, he’s only thirteen, and he’s just discovered the corpse of the woman who always made him cookies. Granted, they weren’t as good as Mother’s, but he was always so sweet about eating a few in front of her . . .” Mahrree’s chin wobbled too much for her to go on.
Perrin hugged her briefly. “Just sit with him, don’t draw attention to the fact that he’s been crying—in fact, don’t say anything at all. Just listen to him, if he chooses to speak. That’s how you treat him like a man.”
“That’s never worked with you,” she said.
“How do you know? You’ve never tried it.”
---
A few minutes later Perrin arrived at the Cottages to hear the chilling wails of two dozen old women. A tattered blanket covered a thin body, and before he could ask his soldiers if Karna’s pushing cart was on its way to bring down the rest of the Cottage safely, he was surrounded by elderly sobs and grandmothers pulling on him for comfort. The sooner Rector Yung could get there, Perrin decided, the better. In the end he hugged each woman—a few getting in line twice, he noticed—then kept his arm around his mother-in-law who was the safest bet for the day.
“We didn’t know, Perrin!” she cried as she twisted her apron in her hands. “We thought she was still in Moorland! What could we have done?”
“It wouldn’t have mattered if she were in Moorland, Mother Peto,” he told her and the women. “I just received a message from their fort. The destruction there is worse than here. It seems Mt. Deceit caused the tremors, and more than half of the village has died. Had Mrs. Reed stayed there, she probably would have met the same fate. At least she went while in her own house.”
Hycymum sni
ffed and nodded sadly. “She was on her sofa. Likely taking a nap that lasted until morning.”
Perrin cleared his throat and, seeing the devastated looks on the women’s faces, decided they were imagining themselves as the one dying alone on her sofa, so he hugged each one of them again. Fortunately by then Rector Yung arrived, winded but ready to help. As he circled the women for prayer, Perrin slipped over to some of his soldiers working on the rubble.
“Where’s Major Karna and his contraption?”
“A few roads over, sir,” one of them told him. “He said he could be over here by dinner.”
“I want him over here now. Get him.”
Less than an hour later Perrin and Karna watched the major’s contraption at work, one of three he had devised: a wagon with large timbers positioned at overhanging angles. A team of oxen were hitched backward to the wagon so that the timbers could push against weak walls to bring them down, or test the stability of standing structures. If the walls could withstand the oxen ramming team, the building was likely strong enough to house people.
Mrs. Reed’s house took only for the oxen team to be positioned in place before the last wall crumbled, much of the debris falling on the wagon and not on any soldiers, old women, or boys.
“Well, that was unnervingly easy,” Brillen said quietly.
“Sorry to call you over from your route, but I wanted this taken care of,” Perrin told him.
“Understood. Rather surprising that the wall didn’t come down while Peto was poking around—”
Seeing his commander’s jaw shift, Major Karna nodded once. “I’ll send out the message—no one should enter any houses or remove any debris until one of the oxen teams can clear the house.”
“Thank you.”
But Brillen noticed Perrin’s jaw tremble. “Got to me last night,” he said quietly. “Over a puppy, of all things. Someone had tossed it in the pit we have dug by the canal for the animals. I’ve seen plenty of dead, but for some reason that blasted puppy . . .” His voice cracked. “Sorry, sir.”
“Don’t be sorry, Brillen. Never be sorry for feeling compassion. That’s what will make you an excellent commander someday, and probably soon. I don’t care what they told us in Command School, our duty isn’t to eliminate the Guarders; it’s to protect those who can’t protect themselves,” Perrin said as they watched two soldiers gently place the covered body on a stretcher. “From anyone and anything. You’ll find plenty of officers who know all the right names and have all the right connections, or so they think. But the people we really need to know are the ones who can’t bring us any power or prestige.”
“I know that,” Karna said as the soldiers lifted the stretcher onto a wagon. Several women stood near it, weeping. “Because I’ve learned that from you.”
Perrin nodded once to the driver of the wagon to take the body to the burial grounds, where a mass grave was waiting to be covered tomorrow. Slowly the wagon pulled away, and the widows hugged each other.
“No one cares more for the villagers than you do,” Karna said, almost reverently. “Which means you’ll make a fantastic High General when your father retires in two years.”
Perrin groaned quietly and put a hand on Karna’s shoulder. “Why’d you have to say that?” His grip became firmer, and his major began to sag under the pinch of his nerve. “We were having a moment there, and then you had to go and ruin it.”
Karna was nearly gasping now, trying to pretend nothing was wrong as the lieutenant colonel dug a finger into his muscle. “Because you need to get used to the idea,” he panted. “Because the only fort I ever plan to command is here in Edge, and I need you out of the way first.”
Perrin almost smiled at that as he finally released Karna, who exhaled in relief. “Edge is mine, Brillen. Forever. Find your own fort. Besides, think of Miss Robbing.”
Karna, straightening up again now that the pain was gone, shrugged. “Well, we were planning to talk—”
“You’re still going to talk,” Perrin said. “Go on Holy Day. We can spare you. See how she and her parents are doing, and if you can help them with anything. Besides, I need someone to drop by the fort and get an evaluation of the damage in Rivers.”
“Oh, yes, of course. Report from Rivers, quite necessary, quite necessary. Thanks,” Karna whispered, and massaged his neck as he went to retrieve his oxen team.
---
Armed with only a handful of hours of sleep, Mrs. Joriana Shin marched, albeit a bit unsteadily, with the aid of two lieutenants to the remains of the old garrison.
Three days of searching had revealed nothing, but on the morning of the fourth day, Joriana’s head had snapped up from her uncomfortable napping position on her husband’s desk. It was the idea that had awakened her; a whisper that she couldn’t discern if from a dream or from something else.
“But why would he be there?” she asked no one in particular, forgetting that a lieutenant was on guard in the room.
“Ma’am?”
“He goes there maybe once a moon, when his crates are full. Wasn’t he just there last week? He was. So why, early on a Holy Day, why would he go there again . . . Unless he thought he forgot to put something away, the worry of which can keep him up at night.” She massaged her eyes. “That’s where he went, wasn’t it? Oh, dear Creator . . . that man and his paperwork!”
She stood up abruptly and turned to the lieutenant. “Riplak, did he say anything to you the night before the tremor? About needing to file something?”
Lieutenant Riplak shook his head. “I would have remembered, ma’am. For the past three days I’ve been going over every conversation we had the day before, trying to think if he mentioned something—”
Joriana exhaled in exasperation. “And here I thought the point of having a personal guard was that everything was confided in said guard—”
“Ma’am, with all due respect, it’s very difficult to guard someone who doesn’t want to be guarded. What am I supposed to do, order the High General to tell me his every move? Sorry ma’am,” he apologized quickly.
“Not good enough,” she said, tucking some stray hairs into her bun that hadn’t been fixed in days. “Get that other lieutenant. We’re headed to the garrison. The old one!”
Half an hour later they arrived in the carriage, Joriana staring in horror at the near-complete devastation of what used to be the headquarters of the army.
“Good thing they built a new garrison a few years ago,” the other lieutenant said under his breath as they stared at hills of rubble.
“Good thing they moved everyone out of this one,” Riplak replied. “Guess they don’t need to tear it down now. How could anything survive—” He stopped when he felt the dagger-like stare of Mrs. Shin. “I mean that . . . never mind, ma’am.”
Word had already been sent out to the new garrison that Mrs. Shin was demanding two hundred and fifty soldiers come help inspect the deserted remains of the old garrison, and despite the complaints of Colonel Thorne, soldiers willingly complied, many even volunteering.
Relf Shin had a storage room at the old garrison, in a basement, where he kept all of his records . . .
---
Twelve grueling hours later, after small mountains of stone and timbers and papers that had once been a massive three story building had been moved and removed and moved yet again like a never-ending stacking game, the hundreds of soldiers weary of shifting debris took turns looking at the sky beginning to darken, then glanced at each other wondering just how much longer this was going to continue.
None of them dared look at Joriana Shin, who had circled the debris all day long, pointing out areas and calling for the scrawniest soldiers to wriggle into narrow crevices for closer inspection. Her fine woolen skirt was stained and torn at the bottom, her gray-brown hair was falling out of her bun in disheveled tangles, and her black cloak was now a dusty gray.
But despite her bloodshot eyes, and ignoring the frequently loud sighs of exasperation from Colonel Tho
rne who’d eventually joined the search, Mrs. Shin wasn’t showing signs of giving up, so none of the soldiers dared to either—
Until one sergeant, on his belly peering into a dark opening, asked for a torch.
And then, once it illuminated the area, he swore. “Oh, slag . . . Colonel . . . COLONEL THORNE!”
---
Five days after the land tremor, on the 41st Day of Planting, Mahrree woke up to see the beams on the ceiling of her gathering room. She groaned. Nearly every muscle ached. The ones that didn’t were numb. Confined to the end of the sofa again, because her bear of a husband was sprawled over the rest of it, she felt like crying.
During the night she’d dreamed she was stretched out on a beautiful soft bed, surrounded by pillows and blankets without a shred of debris anywhere. The dream was familiar, one that she had a dozen times a year of a large house made of weathered gray wood that was more solid than anything in the world, and was surrounded by gardens, orchards, mountains . . .
And then the severe kink in her neck brought her painfully back to reality. She’d never felt so weary before—physically, mentally, and emotionally. And now her neck was stiff. And her husband’s massive feet were on her lap. And his holey socks needed washing.
Miserably she reminded herself that at least they weren’t outside again, but finally back in their house. The sun began to peek through the windows and the sky promised to be clear again, meaning no Planting Season rains would come today. Mercifully all the storms Mahrree watched each day skirted Edge, as if to give the villagers yet another day to secure their homes.
Theirs was deemed safe to enter late yesterday afternoon—one of the very last to be tested—when Major Karna’s contraption pushed on each wall without so much as a budge. Karna turned to Mahrree and said, “Welcome home, Mrs. Shin! Let the cleanup fun commence.”
In a way it would be nice to stay home for once. Peto’s spirits had been low ever since he discovered Mrs. Reed, and Jaytsy was equally somber after helping a little girl discover her cat hadn’t survived after all.
Indeed, morale all over Edge was deteriorating. Oh, there had been some moments of hope, such as the family with young twins who were pulled from the cellar under the remains of their home relatively unharmed on the evening of the third day, and the enormous herd of cattle that found their way back, via the busiest roads in Edge, to the pasture of their astonished owner just yesterday.
But waking up on the fourth day, Mahrree and the rest of Edge, it seemed, finally realized that “bouncing back” would likely take seasons, and some things would never be the same again.
Perrin had yet to hear from his parents, but that wasn’t unusual. The family code was, no news means no problems: carry on, soldier.
He did, however, receive an official report from the Administrators last night proclaiming that the damage suffered by Idumea was of such a nature that all soldiers from the outer lying villages should be sent immediately to help with removal and reconstruction.
Perrin stared at the message, delivered to their back garden by a soldier, for several minutes before “accidentally” dropping it in the fire where a boar was roasting.
To Mahrree’s questioning look he answered, “Wasn’t signed by the High General, and I take my orders from him. No news from him, nothing to report.”
“Should we send them a message that we’re fine?” Mahrree asked, already knowing his answer.
Perrin shook his head. “I don’t want to spare a single soldier from the recovery efforts. My parents will know we’re fine.”
Mahrree hoped that her in-laws weren’t worrying about them, but strangely her thoughts yesterday kept returning to Relf and Joriana. Every five minutes she saw them again in her mind, and she wondered why.
Even now, her third thought of the morning was about Perrin’s parents, but there was nothing she could do to assure them they were fine. Mahrree turned her sore neck to evaluate her sturdy rock walls and smiled in smug appreciation at how well they held up. Twisting to look up the stairs that led to her bedroom, she groaned, partially out of pain, partially to see books, wood, and clothing strewn at the top of the stairs, having been blown around by the winds that came off the mountains during the night.
“I feel the same way,” Perrin whispered, sitting up and glancing at the stairs. He tried to give her an optimistic smile, but the weary lines under his dark eyes gave him away.
She smiled feebly back. “How long do you think we’ll be sleeping down here?”
“No idea. We have to clean out the rubble upstairs, then evaluate what needs to be rebuilt, and then wait our turn like everyone else for available lumber. They hope to be getting the sawmill operational today. So at least a few weeks, but probably much longer.”
Mahrree closed her eyes. “Can we move the bed down here?”
“If we can toss it through what used to be the roof, and if it survives the fall—which it should, since I built that thing to withstand a land tremor,” he said proudly, “then we could maybe dismantle it, bring it in here, and rebuild it again.”
Halfway through his explanation she started rubbing her temples. “Never mind. Then we’d only have to reverse the process to get it back upstairs again.”
“Not exactly reverse the process, but we might be able to drag the mattress down here, unless it’s—”
But she put a finger on his lips. “Just . . . no more bad news.”
“Then I suppose we won’t discuss the potential food shortages right now . . .” he mumbled through her finger.
Mahrree dropped her hand. “What did Grandpy Neeks tell you last night about the reserves?”
“I thought you didn’t want—”
“Just tell me!”
“We have enough grain reserves that we can dole some out to the village for several weeks.” While his words were encouraging, his tone was flat.
“Exactly how many weeks?” she pressed. She wasn’t a farmer or even a gardener, but she knew the long Raining Season had postponed plantings in many fields. Usually by now the first snow peas were available at the markets, along with some early greens, but this year there was nothing yet.
And now, there wasn’t even a market system left; most of it had burned to the ground, along with many shops that normally supplied clothing, bedding, and tools. Just when the owners could have had their greatest business, they had no businesses left at all.
He shrugged. “We need to get a better approximation of what everyone still has available. Planting Season finds everyone’s stores a bit low, but many can’t even get to their larders or cellars. I kind of wished Gizzada hadn’t left the army to start a restaurant in Pools. I could have used him right now. Then again, his idea of ‘necessities’ include four courses and three different desserts. But Neeks has tasked Lieutenant Rigoff to start evaluating what the village has left. I’m sure whatever Milo needs help with, Teeria will be more than obliging.”
“There’s not going to be enough, is there?” she whispered.
He just looked down at his hands, massaging them. “I’ve identified four soldiers who grew up on farms. Today they’ll be tilling the old catapult fields across from the fort and sowing some of the grain we have in reserves. Then this afternoon I’m going to have Shem visit farmers and emphasize to them the need to get planting immediately. Their clean-up efforts can wait.”
She sighed. “Will it be enough? Soon enough?”
He looked back up at her. “Thought you didn’t want any more bad news.”
Her expression must have been pitiful.
“A bit of good news, then,” he attempted a smile. “I have the entire day off to stay here and work on our house with you and the children. Soldiers will likely come by for updates and direction, but we can spend all day working here.”
“Yippee,” she said dully.
“Or,” he said with a glint in his eye, “you could go back to the school and start teaching again.”
“This will be better! Besides, Mr.
Hegek has allowed several homeless families to live in the buildings. And,” she said more soberly, “I think it’ll be good for Jaytsy and Peto to just be with us today. Getting back to some kind of routine here at home will do us all good,” she decided. “Even if it’s just for the day. Maybe I should even come up with a few school assignments—”
His curled upper lip stopped her. “I thought we were trying to make them feel better, not worse.”
Mahrree chuckled sadly just as Peto came out of his room. He ran his hand over his tousled brown hair and squinted at his mother. “What?”
“Your father doesn’t think it would be a good idea for us to do school at home today. He thinks we should just be cleaning up around here. How does that sound to you?”
Peto nodded once. “If you started teaching us at home, I’d have to write that letter to the Administrators I keep threatening to send. I’m sure the Administrator of Education would have an interesting response. Keep your wife under control, Lieutenant Colonel!” he said in a cadence the High General of Idumea would have used, and once again Mahrree felt something prick in her mind, flooding her with thoughts of Relf and Joriana.
Still, she chuckled with Perrin as Peto trudged off to the washing room, and Perrin winked at his wife. One child down, one more to go.
Jaytsy opened her door just in time to see Peto going through the kitchen door to the washing room. She rolled her eyes. “Why can’t he just keep going outside like he did for the past four days? He takes forever in there! I swear he falls asleep on purpose, just to keep me bouncing in the kitchen.”
“Looking forward to spending the day at home, then?” Perrin asked.
“With him?” Jaytsy exhaled loudly. “I guess I’ve got no choice.”
Mahrree winked at her husband as Jaytsy stomped loudly toward the washing room door.
It was a couple of hours before they began to consider going upstairs to evaluate the bedroom. They spent the morning putting away everything that had been shaken down. Jaytsy and Peto finished sweeping up the dust and debris, while Mahrree went to the cellar to evaluate the last of their own stores of food.
Three weeks at best, was Mahrree’s guess, and much less if they kept feeding the neighborhood.
But then again, all the villagers were making sacrifices. Many farmers and ranchers had offered cattle, sheep, and pigs to be butchered and shared. Old men sat at the river catching as many fish as they could to donate to someone’s coals. And early each morning a team of soldiers sat with their bows and arrows at the edge of the forest waiting for deer. They harvested a few each day and carried them to the Shins’ yard where now two spits awaited them. Those needing venison for a meal were welcomed to take enough for their family.
Still, Mahrree fretted as she patted her last bag of flour and wondered how she could make it last. Even with the combined creativity and generosity of Edge, disaster could be coming.
When she came up the stairs to get their midday meal prepared—leftover venison stew with dumplings—she already felt discouraged, even though the main floor of their home looked as if nothing had happened.
Perrin was waiting for her in the kitchen. “Midday meal first, then the unveiling of our bedroom?”
“I’ve never been much of a procrastinator,” she sighed, “but today I am.”
“I’ve just been up there,” he admitted. “You didn’t hear the scream?”
“You screamed?”
“No, your daughter who accompanied me screamed.”
Peto came into the kitchen. “It was great!” he grinned, the first true smile Mahrree had seen on his face in days. “When she saw those raccoons sleeping in your wardrobe—”
“Raccoons!” Mahrree exclaimed.
“—she screamed as if they were rats.”
“They looked like rats!” Jaytsy defended herself as she came in behind her brother and punched him in the shoulder. “Giant ones.”
“Oddest rats I’ve ever seen, then,” Perrin said.
“Well, they stole her stockings!” Jaytsy folded her arms.
“My stockings?” Mahrree whimpered. “Which ones?”
“The beige ones Grandmother Peto bought you at the beginning of Raining Season,” Jaytsy whimpered back.
Peto put his hands on his hips. “Did you hear that, Father? The beige ones!”
As upset as Mahrree was about her unwelcomed guests stealing her clothing, Peto’s outraged face and scoffs in feigned fury even made Jaytsy’s mouth contort to hide a smile.
“Ah well,” Mahrree decided, “it’s supposed to be getting warmer anyway, and those were for Raining Season.”
“What stupid raccoons,” Peto rolled his eyes. “Wearing knits in Planting Season.”
Jaytsy turned to him. “Since when do you know so much about fashion?”
“Just how long have I been your brother?”
“You can’t count that high yet?”
Perrin put an arm around each of their shoulders, which at first appeared to be a loving gesture, until he covered their mouths with his hands. “Sounds as if our life is getting back to normal again, doesn’t it? Maybe I’ll head back up to the fort instead—”
“Don’t you dare!” Mahrree glared.
After midday meal she trudged up the stairs to see sunlight pouring down, brightly illuminating everything that a roof normally shields.
All she could do was sigh. Somehow it looked worse than it did that first morning. But then again, she hadn’t ventured up there since then, and there had been winds and raccoons and who knew what else wreaking havoc in what used to be her favorite sanctuary.
The peak of the roof rested on top of the massive bed, the eaves and clay shingles broken and scattered all over their wardrobes, desk, chairs, and bookshelves. Sticks, rotting leaves, and just plain old dirt littered everything. Had it rained, the mess could have been redefined as sludge.
“All right . . . where do we start?” Jaytsy asked.
Peto picked up a small piece of an eave and tossed it out over the top of the remaining wall. It landed near the wood pile in the back garden. “There. Done yet?”
Jaytsy picked up a larger piece. “Bet I can get this on the pile.”
“Bet it will bounce and hit the Hersh’s dog instead,” Peto sneered. “Or Mrs. Hersh.”
“We don’t bet in this family,” Perrin reminded them, picking up a few books and handing them to his wife.
Mahrree wiped off the dust, and looked around for where to place them. The unexpected voice right behind her made her jump.
“I’ve seen that tired and glazed look before, Mahrree. But it’s been a few years. Do you need a hand?”
“Uncle Shem!” the children cried.
Mahrree just felt like crying as she felt his arm come around her shoulders and he gave her an encouraging hug.
Perrin eyed his master sergeant. “You were out all night, Zenos. You’re supposed to be resting now so you can go on duty later this evening.”
Shem smiled. “I had a nap. And what’s more restful than spending the afternoon here? Mahrree’s a bit short and weak to toss some of these pieces out, wouldn’t you agree?”
Perrin patted Shem gratefully on the shoulder. “You have the oddest ideas about what’s ‘restful.’ And for that I’m most grateful.”
“Shem, normally I’d be insulted by one of your short remarks, but not today,” Mahrree chuckled. “How can I thank you?”
“By getting me something to eat?” he asked timidly. “I understand Mrs. Peto left you with some of her interesting creations, and since they’re rationing food at the fort now, I skipped eating there.”
“Absolutely, Shem. I’ll be right back.” She plopped the books on the shelf with renewed hope. Perrin’s muscle combined with Shem’s, their upstairs bedroom just might be fully cleaned out by dinner time.
Down in the kitchen Mahrree readily pulled out a plate to pile for Shem. Of course he’d be here. He always showed up when they needed him, even when they did
n’t know they needed him—
Mahrree heard the knock at the front door. She hesitated before heading toward the gathering room, dreading it was someone asking the lieutenant colonel for help. But duty was duty. When she opened the door, she tried to suppress a gasp.
It was an official Administrators’ messenger.
She’d seen them at her house only twice before. They came there when they couldn’t find Perrin quickly enough, but they were regular visitors to the fort. With their system of horses stationed every twelve miles or so, a messenger could cover the eighty miles from Idumea to Edge in a little less than eight hours of hard riding. And somehow, when they arrived, the messengers always looked as fresh and crisp as a harvest time apple. Maybe that’s why their red coats and rounded caps always tempted Mahrree to bite them. Each time they arrived it was with yet another decree, decision, or demand. Mahrree wouldn’t deny she was less than delighted to see him.
“I need to speak to Lieutenant Colonel Shin immediately. I was told at the fort he is at home today,” said the slight little man in a high-pitched tone.
She grumbled under her breath, but said, “Yes, he is. One moment please.” Mahrree rushed, but slowly, to the bottom of the stairs, wanting to get this over with, but not wanting to pull her husband away from the work upstairs.
“Perrin, there’s an Administrators’ messenger,” she called up not too loudly. Maybe he wouldn’t hear her.
His voice was strained as he called back down, “Ugh! We’re a little—ooh, watch that end, Peto!—busy at the moment. Jaytsy, slide over! Tell him—yes, that way, Shem—to wait a bit.”
Mahrree turned back to the messenger with a half-apologetic smile. “We’re remodeling. In fact, the whole village has been bitten by the renovating bug.”
The messenger was not amused. “It is urgent, Madam!”
Mahrree bit her lower lip and narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s always urgent,” she muttered, matching his heated gaze. She heard a crashing sound upstairs and flinched, but continued to hold the messenger’s penetrating stare.
“It’s all right, Mother,” Jaytsy called down. “You wanted to rearrange that bookshelf anyway, remember?”
Mahrree continued to look at the messenger’s face, perfectly unmoved, and she wondered how he did that.
“One . . . ,” Perrin’s voice drifted down from the bedroom, “Two . . . ,” then a tremendous crashing sound came from the back garden.
The teenagers cheered.
The messenger’s face didn’t even twitch.
“Shem, I thought I said on three!” Perrin sounded slightly irritated.
“You were about to say three, correct? So I pushed it over when you would have said ‘three’.”
“No, no, no. You’re supposed to wait until I say ‘three,’ then push it over the moment after ‘three’ has been said.”
Mahrree tried not to smirk.
The messenger didn’t move a muscle.
“No one does it that way, Perrin!”
“Everyone does it that way, Shem!”
“Well, it’s down now, sir. Did you hear it, Mahrree? Your roof is officially kindling.”
The messenger, now sufficiently annoyed, stepped into the house without permission. Mahrree’s jaw dropped in shock as he pushed passed her.
“Lieutenant Colonel Perrin Shin! Would you please come down here immediately!” he bellowed up the stairs.
Mahrree couldn’t contain the stunned smile that spread across her face, so she covered it with her hand.
The messenger turned to her as if to say, “That’s how you call a lieutenant colonel!” but seemed slightly alarmed at her response.
Her eyes brimmed with warning.
One heavy boot thumped on the top stair.
The messenger slowly turned.
Then another boot thudded menacingly down another stair, and another, and continued until the full broad body of Lieutenant Colonel Shin faced the messenger. He was even less amused than the messenger had been with Mahrree.
Shem followed on tiptoe and crouched to sit halfway down the staircase to watch the show. Peto and Jaytsy sat behind Shem the Shield and sniggered quietly.
Perrin didn’t even bother to veil his threats. “You do NOT enter my house without my wife’s permission. You do NOT raise your voice in my house, and should you EVER return, you will show the proper respect owed by WAITING until I am ready to address you. Is that understood, Messenger?” he snarled.
The messenger swallowed hard, but his voice was just as challenging. “Yes, sir!”
Perrin took his last few steps down the stairs slowly, wiping dust and dried leaves off his work clothes. He folded his arms across his chest and stood head and shoulders above the man in bright red. Impressively, the small man didn’t shrink in the presence of the brawny lieutenant colonel.
Mahrree did a little, in sympathy.
“If the Administrators are disappointed that the last report I sent came as only one copy, they best understand that there was no time to create more. Every last soldier has been helping to rebuild Edge,” Perrin rehearsed steadily. “If the Administrators are unhappy that I didn’t send the bulk of my men to Idumea as they asked, they best understand that my men’s duty lies to Edge first. If the Administrators have a new law they need me to enforce, they best understand that I refuse to impose any new directives until Edge is secured, perhaps by the end of the season.”
The little man straightened himself up. He cleared his throat with a hint of nervousness before he said, “You may tell them yourself, Lieutenant Colonel Shin. You have been requested—ordered—to come to Idumea immediately.”
“By whom?” Perrin shouted.
“By Mrs. Joriana Shin, wife of High General Relf Shin, sir,” the messenger said with far too much superiority, and handed Perrin a folded message. “Your father was gravely injured in the land tremors and was recovered only very late last night. After you’ve checked on the condition of your father who, when I left, was still unconscious and unresponsive, you’ll report at Administrative Headquarters to pay your respects. Your mother expects you to leave within two hours of receiving this message.”
He turned from a paralyzed Perrin to a stunned Mahrree, “Your renovations will have to wait, Mrs. Shin. Good day.”
He marched out the door to leave the entire Shin family and Uncle Shem completely speechless.
No one in the history of the world had ever done that before.
Chapter 5 ~ “Sometimes it feels like the world’s out to get me.”
