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

by Trish Mercer

Going to bed and going to sleep are two different things.

  Sleep wouldn’t be coming for a very long time. Especially since Perrin had awoken from a long forced nap just a few hours ago.

  He sat on the narrow bed in the small adjoining room and tried to think of what to think. He couldn’t concentrate on anything for any length of time because a little old man kept butting into his thoughts.

  Hogal Densal kicked away Guarders, pushed out the Administrators and officers, and gently nudged his parents to the side so he could stand in the middle of Perrin’s mind with his mischievous smile and his eyebrows waggling.

  Perrin couldn’t put out of his mind his first trip to Edge. The memory nagged him, insisting on being revisited, so Perrin indulged it just to have something different to think about, and to be rid of it.

  He’d been eighteen when he was sent to Edge, and he remembered staring glumly at the little old man and woman he was to stay with. They’d shrunk in the years since he’d seen them last, and were more wrinkled. He folded his brawny arms across his broad chest as he evaluated them in front of their small stone house, in that ridiculously tiny village, against those ugly rocky mountains. He’d been hoping for a season at Waves, or even Coast, but was stuck at the Edge of Nothing.

  Hogal Densal had smiled at him and said, “Plan to serve the world as a general, I understand?”

  “Of course,” he replied arrogantly. Everything that came out of his mouth in those days was smug, prideful, disdainful—any variety of haughtiness, he had it mastered.

  “Good, good.” Hogal eyed him in a way that seemed to pierce straight through his conceit and into his soul. “Then you’re here to learn how to do the first part of that sentence, while your father will train you to do the second part at the end of the season.”

  “The first part?” Young Perrin had asked, trying to remember what it was.

  Rector Densal smiled kindly, but his eyes were on fire. “The ‘serve’ part. No leader is truly great that doesn’t know how to serve. Service first, leadership later. First rule of leadership.”

  “No it’s not,” Perrin retorted. “First rule of leadership is to identify the rival and eliminate it through defeat or feigned friendship.”

  Hogal sighed. “A true product of the king’s educational system. Learned your lessons well, I see. We do things differently here in Edge. No king has been here for many years and we like it that way. Trust me; to be a great leader, you need to be a great servant. You’ll begin tomorrow at a widow’s house not far from here. She has a large herd, no children, and lots of feed to gather in.”

  “Baling feed? The son of the High General of Idumea, baling feed!”

  “Don’t worry. No one here knows your parentage. I told everyone my nephew from Quake was coming for Weeding Season, and he’s a little daft.” Hogal smiled and tapped his head. “Tell the village whatever you want. No one will believe who you think you are.”

  “I’m not standing for this,” Perrin had huffed. “I’m going home!”

  “My wife’s niece is adamant that you stay,” Hogal said pleasantly. “You have no choice. Steal a horse to go home, they won’t let you in the army. I’d report you as a thief. Tell a lie to get out of here, I’ll send lies back to your home ahead of you. Who are they going to believe more, a teenage boy or a revered rector?” He was more wily than anyone realized.

  “I won’t work,” Perrin had threatened.

  “Then you won’t eat,” said Hogal simply. “Everyone works for what they get. So will you. In fact, there are still a few hours of daylight. We’re going to that widow’s house right now to let you get a start.”

  “What!?”

  “Are you hungry? Is that the problem?”

  “Yes, part of it!”

  “Then you’ll work for your dinner. And your great aunt makes a wonderful berry pie. You really don’t want to miss that.”

  Older Perrin sat on the bed remembering that walk to the widow’s house. Ten years later he had looked for her when he came back to Edge as the captain, but she’d already died, and she wasn’t even that old.

  He tried to picture her now. When one is eighteen everyone older than twenty-five might as well be grandparents.

  No, she wasn’t a grandmother. She was probably not even forty-five. Close to Mahrree’s age. A widow.

  He gripped his head and rubbed it. “Hogal, what do you want from me? What’s the purpose of this?”

  The memory wouldn’t leave, not without being attended to.

  Perrin had been working for about two weeks on the farm when he realized the cut hay never seemed to end. He was sure that when he baled and moved the feed, Hogal had sent other farmers to throw more in the field at night just to keep him busy. There wasn’t much else to do while working in the hot sun. No friends to ride with, no girls to chat up—

  It was the lack of girls that bothered him the most; finding women had been the reason he wanted to see the world to begin with. Yes, there had been something between Versula Cush and him, more than just false accusations and scars from sticks. Their teenage years had run cold and hot, dangerous and stupid, back and forth. It was during one of those cold periods that the sixteen-year-old Versula caught the eye of an older third-year cadet named Qayin Thorne.

  Only years later did Perrin suspect that Versula pursued Qayin to make Perrin jealous, but sixteen-year-old boys simply don’t notice such games. He was too busy realizing there were many other officers in the world with daughters, and all of them quite happy to visit Idumea with their fathers and be shown around the garrison by the strapping and, he was loath to admit, rakish son of the High General. They eagerly accepted his invitations to see the secrets of the garrison he told them he only knew. It was a stupid line, to offer them his private tour, but it always worked. He couldn’t even remember how many girls there had been in those years. At least a dozen, but likely many more. All of them were quick to swoon, then just as quickly were conquered and crushed. He didn’t even remember their names. They were just silly girls who were too willing and vulnerable for their own good. And in those days, Perrin was up to no good.

  Before he entered Command School he wanted to do a little exploring, that was true. But he wasn’t interested in scenery or villages, only in finding a challenging conquest.

  Instead he found only mindless repetition in baling hay. And, he reminded himself with recurring gratitude, not an eighteen-year-old Mahrree Peto. Any relationship they would have had then would have been disastrous.

  The only female he had contact with besides his great aunt was an older woman—no, a woman still in the prime of life—bringing him cool water and smiling gratefully at him every day.

  Then older Perrin remembered something else. Every night Hogal kept him there in his little house and read out loud to him, usually from The Writings but also from some older books. A few times Perrin had tried to sneak out to see the action down in the village green, but his uncle always blocked him, and only out of politeness—and dread of punishment by his parents—did he not push the old man away.

  “You said you were too tired to help me milk the cow, so you must be too tired to see any of the village. Besides, they all think you’re mad and no one wants to be seen talking to you. But I’ll talk to you. Tell me, Perrin, what’s life like in Idumea? Tell me everything, and I mean everything, I’ve been missing.”

  So Perrin did, trying to prove to Hogal Densal how dismal Edge was in comparison. Hogal listened attentively, as did Perrin’s aunt Tabbit, and asked thoughtful questions.

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand about the houses near the pools, Perrin,” Auntie Tabbit once asked. “Why do people want to be so close to something that could destroy them?”

  “But they rarely do! Only once in a while does one erupt. And only once in a while does a house go down in one when the crust breaks. Not that many people die each year.”

  “Isn’t just one death enough to discourage people?” Hogal said. “And if ther
e’s land away from the danger, why play so close to the edge of it? I knew of a man that wanted to drive carriages along the cliffs in Coast to give people views of the sea,” he said thoughtfully. “He told the carriage owner he could get very close to the edge without sliding off and into the sea. He didn’t get the job. The carriage owner wanted someone who could drive the farthest away from the edge, away from danger.”

  Perrin rolled his eyes. “I’ve heard that story before. It’s even older than you, so it wasn’t your friend. You just made that part up.”

  But Hogal was undaunted. “It’s like teasing a poisonous snake. You may avoid getting hit for a while, but your chances of escaping unharmed decrease the longer you taunt it. My thinking? Live a long life by avoiding the snakes altogether.”

  Every night Perrin was exposed to a little more Hogal Densal thinking, and every day as he baled the never-ending hay he thought of ways to argue against the old man. At dinner he’d challenge an idea from the night before, and the old rector always seemed to have a way to counter his arguments.

  When Perrin discovered that Hogal was using ideas from The Writings, that’s when he started to study them too, just to find ways to anticipate his arguments and punch holes into his thinking.

  But Perrin had fallen into Hogal’s trap. Studying so intently didn’t give him weapons against Rector Densal, but destroyed his Idumean theories instead. He felt his arguments weakening, his ideas changing, his heart softening.

  He didn’t fully notice it until it was almost time to go. One week before he was to return to Idumea he nearly finished the baling. In the late afternoon the widow came out of her house to point Perrin down the road. A large herd of cattle was making its way down the quiet dirt road to her corral.

  “My brother has been keeping them for me until I could take them again. My husband’s herd. And now I can feed them all Raining Season with what you’ve put away. I’m going to survive, thanks to you. You’ve saved me!” and she kissed his cheek.

  That night after dinner, which he ate quietly still thinking about what the woman said to him, Hogal cracked his knuckles and said, “What are we to argue tonight, my boy?”

  “I don’t feel like arguing.”

  “Because it’s useless? Because you keep losing to me?”

  “Because I’m tired,” Perrin said evasively, “and I’m thinking of other things.”

  “Because you’re finally thinking there’s more to life than just getting what you want, isn’t there?” Hogal said. “Life is about taking care of others, not yourself. When you finally feel that in your heart, Perrin, you will be a great leader. Not a leader the king would be proud of, but one the Creator would be proud of.”

  The forty-three-year-old Perrin held his head again and rubbed his temples. “Hogal, Hogal,” he muttered. “I am taking care of others. I’m trying to find the source of all of this. I’m trying to make a safer world for the woman you tricked me into debating, and the children we have. I am serving them and all of Idumea!”

  No, you’re not, my boy.

  Perrin heard the words distinctly as they were announced in his mind.

  You’re serving your rage and anger. I haven’t seen that pride in you in years. Come now, Perrin. Let it go. Come back to Edge.

  “Just give me some time. Hogal, I can get to the root of this. I can solve it! Just a few weeks—”

  Why play with the danger, Perrin? If you insist on staying, they will get you. Snakes, cats—I know you hate them all. So why mess with them?

  “But my parents—”

  Don’t want you here, my boy! Are you doing it for them or for yourself? Staying here will end in death—yours. Don’t leave another widow in Edge. There’s another plan for you, my boy. You’ve changed your path before, now do it again. Don’t take the wrong path.

  Perrin lay down on the bed, weary from the wrestling in his mind.

  He remembered when he went home to Idumea after that season. Hogal had given him a copy of The Writings and Tabbit had given him a huge pie that turned to a messy but delicious sludge in his pack on the horse. He licked it all clean.

  But before he left, he spent most of that last night confessing to Rector Densal all that he’d ever done, and to whom—well, as many of the poor girls as he could remember. His great uncle listened carefully, never interrupting. When Perrin finally finished all the torrid details, Hogal said, “The past is behind you, my boy, and the world is before you. Now, head out on the right path.”

  Remember how we talked about the Refuser? He hated you then, and he held you securely in his grip. But you escaped him, my boy. With the Creator, we freed you that night.

  That night the self-indulgent boy vanished, and what returned to Idumea was a refocused young man. Suddenly realizing he wasn’t the center of the cosmos changed the way he viewed everything. Gone was his desire to conquer hapless, hopeless females, but instead to conquer himself. Relf Shin thought his son had grown three inches taller while he was away, but Perrin knew he’d actually learned how to walk with a better purpose.

  The Refuser hates you even more now, and he wants to destroy you. If you stay, you’ll give him ample opportunities. Perrin, go home.

  Back in Idumea he occasionally ran into some of those girls from his past, still optimistic despite his treating them like cheap paper that he used once and tossed away. He usually met them at the wretched dances his mother forced him to attend. But he’d use those few minutes on the dance floor with his past victims to tell them he was sorry for his treatment of them, and then he’d sneak out of the building when his mother wasn’t looking. The closeness of the young women nearly drove him from his resolve to have no contact with females, and he knew there were many more girls he missed apologizing to.

  That was another reason he dreaded returning to Idumea; he wasn’t sure if someone’s wife or a woman he politely tipped his cap to along the busy roads in the past few weeks wasn’t someone he once took advantage of. On more than one occasion he felt a female’s eyes on him longer than was necessary, and he worried that it may have been someone still justifiably harboring a grudge, or worse, lingering feelings. The last thing he wanted was an uncomfortable meeting in front of his unsuspecting wife and innocent children.

  The only encounter, though, was running into Versula. She probably was still clinging to her adolescent feelings for him, unless Idumea had a new custom to express sympathy by attacking the bereaved with one’s lips.

  Never had Perrin been so happy to have his wife by his side as he was when Versula approached them at The Dinner. Not only because he used Mahrree as a buffer, but because the comparison between what he used to want and what he had now was so extreme. Deciding to have no relationships with women for ten years had purged his soul and taught him what he really wanted in a companion.

  Little wonder, then, that when he finally met Mahrree at age twenty-eight he had no idea how to properly court her. Not only was he rusty in talking with women, the kinds of conversations he’d had as a teenager were all focused solely on achieving one selfish result. He didn’t know then how to tell a woman he wanted to give her his soul. Fortunately Mahrree figured it out.

  And still she loved him, in spite of himself. He’d told her everything that night after The Dinner. He’d already explained a bit as to why he’d been in Edge as an eighteen-year-old, but that night he felt the need to explain a few things more. Even though Hogal had told him his past was forgiven and gone, and reminded him just before he married that he needn’t burden Mahrree about the boy he used to be, Perrin had always felt a bit dishonest. And now, with his past crowding him on every side, he decided Mahrree needed to know why he grew more anxious each day.

  So he spilled everything: about Versula, their past, and why he didn’t want her over for dinner, about the rest of the innocent girls, his shameful roguishness . . .

  He’d wrapped himself around her in their bed that night, partly so that he could feel her responses to his confession, bu
t more so because he feared that once she learned what kind of a young man he had been, she’d never allow his arms around her again.

  She had laid there, patient and motionless, listening to the stories of his sordid youth, and when he finished, she remained quiet for several minutes. He’d squeezed his eyes shut in the dark bedroom, waiting anxiously for her verdict.

  Eventually she startled him by kissing his lips, returning his embrace, and confiding that somehow she always knew he had a past, but also knew he wasn’t that man anymore. He didn’t try to mask the tears of relief that slid down his face onto hers, and concluded that only a woman from Edge could love him so intensely and forgive him of so much.

  Only a few short hours later came that cold snowy morning, then the frantic ride back to Edge . . .

  It wasn’t hard to understand why he loved Edge so deeply. The little village had grown on him, and now Edge had grown up before him. Even his old hay field had been recently taken over by the Edge of Idumea housing development, but he would make it a point of riding by frequently just to remember what he’d been and what he was now.

  And now that he was an officer with a beautiful and trusting daughter, he hated what he’d been even more—

  —That was it.

  It slapped him, clear and cold.

  Suddenly he understood as stared up at the ceiling.

  He didn’t hate Idumea as much as he hated who Perrin Shin was in Idumea.

  That’s right, my boy. So don’t take the wrong path again. Come back home to Edge.

  “Message received, Hogal,” Perrin whispered to the darkening room. Edge was where he found his purpose, his soul, his family, and even forgiveness.

  But even though he understood, it didn’t mean it was easy to let go. The pang in his chest demanded he get to the bottom of all this, to find out who sits in that filthy pit and spews out the orders that killed his parents while they slept. Shem claimed they were happy in Paradise, but how could that be enough?

  Perrin couldn’t imagine how he could ever sleep that night, but somehow he did.

  And then he was sitting, and a small child—a boy, maybe five years old—was leaning against his knee intent on telling him something. It was amusing. Perrin laughed.

  He saw other children and people, lots of them, listening and laughing. The child smiled at him, unsure of what he said that was funny, but enjoying the attention.

  There was something familiar about the children. Or rather, something that would be familiar about them.

  Perrin took control of the dream. If he could just turn his head to see what was behind him, if there were a structure of some kind, a house of weathered gray wood with window boxes filled with herb plants . . .

  Perrin could tell he was awake, but he didn’t bother to open his eyes. The scent of rain filled the morning air, and for a few glorious moments he wasn’t sure where he was as he let the heavy humidity weigh him down on the bed. He concentrated on that little boy, trying to remember the details of his face that were already blurring away—

  But then everything came back to him.

  The guest quarters, the garrison, the burial.

  Something dark and twisting and bitter spread through his chest, but just as suddenly as it rose, another feeling overcame him, curiously warm.

  And then it grew.

  It grew until it glowed hot like a fire on a cold rainy night, fully engulfing the dark. The heat dissolved the sorrow and filled his entire body until there was nothing left but a new and unexpected feeling.

  Joy. Pure joy.

  In the space above his heart he felt the pressure from the evening before, as if two warm hands pressed past his flesh to touch his soul.

  He knew he was smiling. His face hadn’t been in that position for so long it felt almost unnatural.

  A memory came to him as clear as if it was happening at that moment. He was a little boy, not yet old enough for school, lying in bed listening to a thunderstorm tearing through the night. He ran to his parents’ room, not because he was scared, he’d told himself, but because he needed to make sure his parents were all right. Besides, their bed was always warmer.

  He had crawled over his sleeping father to slip under the blankets between his parents. His father placed a warm, heavy hand on his chest.

  “I appreciate your concern, son, but the storm can’t touch me here,” Relf had told him groggily.

  Joriana had kissed his head and placed her warm hand on his chest as well, interlacing her fingers with her husband’s. “But you can stay with us until morning, Perrin, just to make sure we’re all right.”

  And he had.

  Perrin didn’t know he even had any more tears as he laid there with eyes still shut. But these tears came for a different reason. As they slid down his face they released the last of a weighty burden that had sat on his shoulders all night like coffins. Light filled the room that Perrin could discern even through his closed eyelids. The warm pressure on his chest expanded his lungs fully for the first time in days, willing him to go on.

  “I’m glad you’re all right,” he whispered to the presence that surrounded him, “and that nothing can touch you now. I’ll be fine, too, eventually. And I’m going home to Edge.”

  The pressure pushed tenderly into his chest and straight into his soul. The presence filled him so completely he was sure he would feel some of it for the rest of his life.

  He knew it was morning. He knew it was time to get up. He knew it was time to leave. He hated to break the moment, but he also knew the moment was his forever. He opened his eyes to greet the light.

  Outside the dark, heavy clouds continued to rain, and there was no fire lit yet in the guest quarters, but Perrin’s room was inexplicably bright and warm.

  ---

  In the next room, Shem woke with a start in his narrow bed to see Perrin standing over him like a great black shadow.

  “Up, Zenos! We have Administrators to face. Then, we go home.” His voice sounded like the man Shem always knew.

  Shem grinned and sat up as Perrin plopped down next to him, his eyes remarkably soft.

  “You saw them, didn’t you?” Shem said reverently.

  Perrin shook his head but smiled. “Better. I felt them.” He put an arm around Shem. “I told you recently that you missed your calling, that you should’ve been a builder. I’ve changed my mind. Shem, you should’ve been a Guide.” Impulsively he kissed him on the forehead. “Come on, little brother. We have scary old men to face, then we go home to Edge.”

  Shem sighed in relief. “Good, because Perrin, I have to say this, and I hope you don’t take it the wrong way: I know this is your home and everything, but I’m so glad we’re leaving. I have to admit, I really hate Idumea.”

  For the first time in days, Perrin laughed.

  ---

  They’d looked for Gadiman everywhere in Idumea. But he wasn’t in his office, not at his usual inn taking his usual meal—boiled beef, one fried potato, one slice of black bread with onion, without fail—and he wasn’t at home.

  His housekeeper, a woman with a pinched face and a scowl likely acquired from working for the Administrator of Loyalty for so many years, told Doctor Brisack that morning, “He went out last night for the burial, and never came back. What he does is his own business. Now, unless you want something else, I have a gathering room to sweep.”

  Doctor Brisack went back to the Headquarters early that morning, baffled.

  “Nicko,” he reported to the Chairman, “he’s simply vanished! He was seen at the burial last night, but then he gave me the slip again. I sent out ten men searching last night, and all reported back this morning they found nothing. He never went home last night.”

  Mal considered this. “He’d know we wanted him for the hearing this morning. I’m sure someone got him the message. You’d think this is precisely the kind of thing he’d be eager to show his face for. I don’t get it.”

  The doctor sat in his chair and sigh
ed. “Must have done something out of the ordinary.”

  “Maybe the weasel went out to celebrate at a tavern for the first time and didn’t know how to hold his mead,” Mal guessed. “He’s likely under some filthy table wondering why his hair is stuck to the floor.”

  The men chuckled.

  “Ah, well. We can proceed without him,” Brisack decided. “I’ll make some excuse for him. In the meantime is everything ready?”

  “Oh, yes,” Mal nodded. “Perrin’s not going to know what hit him, nor will he know what to do with his new little buddy. His father spoke to him last night, and I imagine he still hasn’t stopped salivating.”

  “He’s untested, though,” worried Brisack. “We haven’t even started his training. That was supposed to begin after graduation—”

  “We don’t need to train him,” Mal said simply. “All we need to tell him is that he’s going in as the new captain.”

  Brisack squinted. “Nothing more? He’ll be useless to us.”

  “Oh, he’ll become useful,” Mal assured him. “As you pointed out, we haven’t trained him sufficiently for the task. But there’s someone very close to the situation who can train him for us, and I suspect that after all he’s witnessed here, he’ll be most willing.”

  Mal clasped his hands on his lap.

  “The Quiet Man is about to receive his first direct assignment, after all of these years. It’s almost become too easy, my good doctor. Too easy.”

  ---

  There’s something soothing about plunging one’s hands into soapy water, even if it’s to scrub the mud out of work clothes for the second time that day.

  The warmth. The repetition. The evidence that something was improving. A sense that while everything else was spinning out of one’s control, at least the clothes were relatively clean. In that washing room, one small corner of the world was in Mahrree’s power, even if it meant she was scrubbed Peto’s work trousers so hard that the knee was wearing thin.

  But she wasn’t about to stop until their work clothes were bright again. Something had to be, because everything else for the past two days and nights had been dark and heavy.

  There had been no news.

  Nothing since the long second message arrived from General Cush an hour after Shem rode away from their house. The message detailed what had happened that awful morning when Relf and Joriana were discovered stabbed to death in their bed by one of the maids. Three Guarders and two soldiers were killed, one was seriously injured, and Riplak had come up missing. Kindiri was found bludgeoned and unconscious in the Great Hall, but the two maids upstairs had slept through it all until the morning.

  Then . . . no more news.

  Yesterday was the longest day Mahrree. The burial was to have been yesterday evening, according to Cush’s message. Perhaps Perrin and Shem made it to Idumea, unless . . .

  Today had proved to be as slow and unbearable as yesterday. Mahrree, Jaytsy, and Peto sifted rubble and moved debris again—anything to distract their imaginations from what might be happening in the middle of the world. They kept their heads low to avoid speaking to anyone, but it didn’t help.

  Again villagers hurried over to hug them, weep for a few minutes, and tell them how brave General Shin was, how lovely Mrs. Shin seemed to be, and—worst of all—to ask how the colonel was handling the news.

  The only thing Mahrree could say was, “He’s gone to Idumea. Thank you for your concern. Can I help you with that rock now?”

  But there were a few people whose embraces she gratefully accepted.

  “Oh, Miss Mahrree! I’ve been looking all over for you,” Teeria Rigoff called as she rushed over to the Shins while they added broken dishes to a rubbish wagon. “Milo told me there’s still no word?”

  Mahrree tried to smile bravely at one of her favorite former students, but it was a pitiful attempt. “No, nothing yet,” was all she could whisper. Only the fort knew that Perrin had left in a fit of temper, and was followed by Shem.

  Teeria sighed. “And what about the sergeant that Karna sent after them?”

  “Haven’t heard back from him either,” Mahrree murmured.

  “Then send out more!” Teeria insisted. “Milo said he’d—”

  “Lieutenant Rigoff is needed here, as are all of the other soldiers,” Mahrree said firmly. “Karna told me last night he’d go himself, but I told him no. Edge needs its major, especially now. Look around, Teeria! The village is still a mess. Every man is needed. Besides,” she said in a quieter tone to avoid the attention of Edgers trying to listen in as they dropped more rubbish into the wagon, “this is a family matter.”

  Teeria narrowed her eyes. “Miss Mahrree, others may not remember, but I certainly do. You taught us that we are all family. Colonel Shin and Master Sergeant Zenos are like my brothers. I’ve known them since I was a teenager. I volunteer my husband to find my brothers! And Poe Hili wants to help, too. Just say the word.”

  Mahrree couldn’t fight the tears welling in her eyes. “Thank you, Teeria,” she said. “Maybe tomorrow, if we have no news.”

  Teeria nodded, satisfied that Mahrree was finally considering accepting help. “They’ll be fine, Miss Mahrree. I know it.”

  Mahrree sighed. “No, you don’t, Teeria. What’d we discuss in class about ‘knowing’?”

  Teeria smiled dutifully. She never forgot a lesson. “That we shouldn’t claim to know something unless we really do. That what we know isn’t the same as what we hope for.”

  “So,” Mahrree said analytically, “you don’t ‘know’ that they’re all right. Neither do I. All we can do is—” She faltered, unable to keep up the pretense of teacher.

  And Teeria was no longer her student as she hugged Mahrree again. “Then I hope,” she whispered, “with all that I have. And I’ll cling to that to get me through until we hear something more, just as you will.”

  “Very good, Teeria,” Mahrree sniffed. “There’s a reason you were always my favorite student.”

  “And not just because I married the lieutenant you thought was a perfect match for me?”

  Mahrree almost managed a smile. “That helped, I must admit.”

  Teeria released Mahrree. “I also feel it,” she said quietly, “although I know we can be deceived by our feelings. But I feel a sense of calm when I think about them.”

  While Mahrree did too, it was the lack of news which was most distressing—the not knowing.

  But as Mahrree scrubbed Jaytsy’s tunic, she had an idea. If only the Administrators would realize no one read the notices they forced the printers to create, maybe they’d let them send out useful updates instead, about discoveries, improvements, bodies found along the side of the road . . .

  Maybe not.

  As she rung out Jaytsy’s tunic, she tried to concentrate on what would need to be done tomorrow, but all she could think of were . . . bodies on the side of the road.

  If someone found Perrin or Shem lying injured or worse, how would they know who he was?

  Names, Mahrree thought as she held up Jaytsy’s light brown top, now a permanently darker brown. Names needed to be on their uniforms, or on papers in their pockets, or maybe even engraved on thin pieces of metal hung around their necks. Something to identify who they are and to tell others where to return them.

  Mahrree set aside the tunic and put one of her skirts in the warm water, feeling badly again for the poor sergeant sent out after Perrin and Shem. He finally arrived back in Edge that afternoon, about two hours after Mahrree had spoken to Teeria.

  Major Karna and the sergeant brought the news to Mahrree as she worked at a neighbor’s house. “He made it only as far as the first messenger station,” Karna sighed.

  Jaytsy and Peto came over from their work to hear the update.

  “And? Did you see them?” Mahrree asked with her hands balled in nervous fists.

  “Ma’am, they were there all right,” the sergeant replied with contempt dripping from his voice. He tried to keep it low
to avoid sharing the news of his commander, but several people in the area were leaning subtly over to hear. Gossip was a major pastime in Edge, and with the entertainments temporarily halted, the saga of the Shins was the most popular distraction in the entire village.

  “I didn’t steal two horses or beat up messengers, ma’am, but I was the one who spent a day and two nights locked up in incarceration! Just because I was in a uniform and showed up ten minutes after their tantrums!”

  “Oh dear . . .” Mahrree rubbed her cheeks.

  Karna had looked at Mahrree apologetically. “I’m rather surprised we haven’t heard anything more from Idumea. With all due respect to the High General’s memory, no news doesn’t always mean ‘no news’. We need to consider the possibility that they never got there.”

  Mahrree nodded sadly.

  “I’m sorry, Mahrree,” Brillen continued. “I fear we’ve already waited too long. I’m pulling forty men from the reconstruction efforts and sending them out immediately to look.”

  Mahrree shook her head. “No, Major. The soldiers are needed for securing Edge.”

  “We can spare some men for our commander, Mrs. Shin. And besides,” he added with a dismal twinkle in his eye, “it’s not exactly appropriate for you to tell the second in command what to do with his soldiers.”

  “Sorry, Major,” she said meekly. “I just see this more as a family concern—”

  “So do I, Mahrree. Perrin once gave me a copy of The Writings, and I do remember that the first line is, ‘We are all family.’”

  Mahrree sniffled, knowing that Perrin thought Brillen hadn’t ever opened it. “Then I suggest—to my family—that we wait till morning? If we hear nothing, then send a search party?”

  Mahrree used all of her worry to vigorously scrub out a stain in her skirt, ignoring the fact that she was rubbing out the dye as well. The fort had been most helpful. Guards were posted day and night at the house, and Karna slept last night on the sofa with his sword on the floor next to him. He would most likely come again for the night since the sun was about to set, and he’d try to talk with Peto or get Jaytsy to smile. He was such a good man, just completely inexperienced with teenagers. Still, Mahrree was grateful for a capable officer in the house.

  And no Guarder activity had been detected around Edge, but obviously Guarders were working differently now.

  When she heard the fast hoof beats coming up the cobblestone in front of the house, a wave of panic washed over her. She dropped the skirt in the warm water, dried her hands on her apron, and ran to the front of the house prepared for anything, but hoping for nothing. Hycymum, in the kitchen washing dishes, followed closely behind.

  Jaytsy and Peto got to the front door first, though, and watched tensely as the small man in a red messenger uniform dismounted. Hycymum stood behind Mahrree, her hands apprehensively in front of her face, but Mahrree took a bracing breath and walked out onto the porch.

  The messenger trotted up the stairs and handed her the envelope. “Mrs. Shin? I am to tell you that the colonel and the master sergeant are on their way.” With that he swiveled and marched smartly back to his horse.

  Mahrree whispered, “He said colonel and master sergeant, right? That means they’re still in the army. That means neither was demoted, and both are still alive.” Relief rained down on her like the morning’s thunderstorm.

  They were coming home. Both of them.

  “Read it!” Jaytsy exploded next her. “The message! Read it!”

  Peto snatched it out of Mahrree’s hands and tried to rip it open.

  “Let me do it!” Jaytsy grabbed the envelope from her brother.

  Mahrree could only stand there, tears of gratitude trickling down her face, while her teenagers battled in front of her on the porch.

  “Thank the Creator!” Hycymum said, and went to sit down on the sofa to fan herself.

  Both alive, Mahrree thought, still unable to move. Both still all right. Maybe. She closed her eyes and didn’t hear more hoof beats until her children cried out, “They’re here!”

  Mahrree’s eyes flew open to see four horses come to an abrupt stop in front of the house. Her eyes fell immediately on Perrin.

  There wasn’t even a word to describe his appearance. She couldn’t remember ever seeing him so exhausted, dirty, and scruffy. His uniform was a disgrace. His face was bloodied and unshaven. His cap was missing and his hair looked as if he’d been wrestling a bale of hay—

  And he’d never looked more wonderful.

  Mahrree leaped down the stairs as quickly as he slid off his horse. She didn’t care who saw her, and neither did he. He jumped over the fence and she ran into his arms where he picked her up in a fierce embrace.

  “I was so scared for you! I was sure you were going to do something terrible,” she whispered in his ear as she squeezed him with all her strength. His normally earthy-sweet smell was far more earthy than sweet today, but she could overlook that.

  “I’m sorry to admit that I was,” he murmured back. “But I’m all right now. I’m home. Please forgive me, one more time?”

  “I already have.”

  He kissed her cheek, but that wasn’t good enough. He set her down, took her face in his hands, and kissed her properly in front of everyone.

  Until Shem cleared his throat. “That is a little unfair, Colonel. The rest of us are lonely, single men . . .”

  “Poor Uncle Shem!” Jaytsy laughed for the first time in days. She and Peto had come down the stairs and were waiting to hug their father, but caught Shem instead as he dismounted, each of them taking a side.

  Perrin released his wife and held out his arms to embrace his children. Mahrree wiped away happy tears as Perrin attempted to pick up both Jaytsy and Peto, unsuccessfully.

  She chuckled and turned to Shem, grabbing his arm. “Oh Shem, how can I ever thank you? What did you have to do?” she whispered.

  “Beat him up,” Shem murmured back.

  Mahrree cringed.

  “Stop him from murdering an Administrator—”

  Mahrree flinched. “Gadiman?”

  “Yes, how’d you know?”

  “Just a lucky guess. What else?” she asked and bit her lip in dreadful anticipation.

  “Let’s see,” Shem started, but noticed Perrin and the children watching him. “I think I’ll finish this later.”

  Perrin nodded once at him, with warning in his eyes.

  Mahrree hugged Shem. “Well, thank you anyway!”

  “Anything for my family,” Shem whispered as he released her.

  Perrin cleared his throat. “Mahrree, a couple of introductions here.” He gestured to the two soldiers who had also dismounted and now stood patiently at the gate.

  Mahrree had completely forgotten there was anyone else in the world besides her family. She looked over at the other two men and her eyebrows went up.

  Perrin put a smile on his face that was slightly unnatural, but only Mahrree and Shem knew that. “May I present our new captain, Lemuel Thorne—”

  “Captain?” a startled Mahrree said, but tried to cover her surprise with The Dinner smile.

  Captain Thorne sauntered over to the family with what Mahrree would classify as a triumphant swagger.

  “Yes, quite the accomplishment,” Perrin said, trying not to grit his teeth. “For graduating top of his class and half a season early, he gets the rank of captain and the choice of his first assignment. And guess where he chose?” His expression turned grim.

  Captain Thorne was grinning fully now, but not at Mahrree. He was gazing earnestly at Jaytsy. “I chose to come to the Edge of the World, just like Captain Shin did.” He took Jaytsy’s hand and kissed it.

  Jaytsy was taken aback. From the moment she recognized him she stared at him with an indefinable look. But when the captain kissed her, she blushed and let escape a curious noise that was a blend of a giggle, a snort, and a guffaw.

  Thorne was enchanted.

  Shem was alarmed.
/>   Mahrree was troubled.

  Perrin was livid.

  He clenched his fist and released it before turning to the lieutenant still waiting by the gate. “And this is Lieutenant Offra. This poor unfortunate man has been enjoying the warmth of Trades for the past year and now has been shipped all the way north. He still won’t tell me what he did wrong to earn this transfer.”

  The lanky lieutenant smiled bashfully and nodded. “It’s a privilege to serve under Colonel Shin. Every soldier knows that. I wanted to be here as well.”

  Perrin turned back to Mahrree. “I hate to say it, but—”

  “I know. You need to go to the fort,” she said. “And you don’t know when you’ll be back.”

  “But it won’t be long, I promise.”

  “Don’t make promises you might not keep,” she warned him.

  “Colonel!” a voice from the up the road came running to them. It was Karna. “I can’t believe it! You’re back!” He stopped in front of the colonel and looked as if he might hug him.

  Perrin grinned, shook his hand warmly, then pulled him into a quick embrace.

  “I saw the messenger leave,” Karna said as he patted Perrin on the back, “I was on my way down for the evening, and—”

  “Yes, I’m back. And, Brillen, I’m sorry about that,” Perrin gestured at the large black and purple bruise under Karna’s eye.

  Karna waved his apology away.

  Perrin smiled. “I trust everything here was well?”

  “We kept your house under constant watch, have detected no Guarder activity, and the fort in good condition, sir.” Major Karna flashed a grin at Shem that told him ‘Good job!’

  “I’m glad to hear that, and I’m also sorry,” Colonel Shin told him.

  The major looked disappointed. “Why?”

  The colonel put on another smile, this one slightly pained. “I’ve been spoiled for far too long. You’ve languished in my shadow for so many years, and you’ve done far too good a job here. So good that you’ve been given your own command.” Colonel Shin pulled out an official envelope from his jacket pocket. “The fort at Rivers is yours, Lieutenant Colonel Karna. And Captain Rigoff is yours, too.”

  Mahrree gasped to realize Teeria would be leaving Edge for the large village of Rivers.

  Karna was speechless as he opened the envelope and read the orders. “I can’t believe it, sir,” he finally whispered. He grinned at Sergeant Zenos who smiled sadly. Then Karna looked at the colonel and his grin faded. “Oh, sir. But I’ve been here so long, I can’t imagine actually leaving.”

  “It’s graduation day, Brillen!” Perrin said cheerfully, but his eyes were clouded. “And when you graduate, it’s time to move on. Surely a Miss Robbing who delivers eggs to the Rivers fort will be a bit happy about that as well.”

  Karna began to smile again. “She, uh, she and I were talking, and . . . She won’t believe it!” He choked out a laugh.

  “You better send us an invitation to the wedding, Brillen.” Mahrree kissed him on the cheek. “We’re going to miss you, but I’m so happy for you! It’s been a long time in coming.”

  Karna nodded and reread the orders, his face a manifestation of mixed emotions. “I suppose you don’t need me here tonight, Mrs. Shin.”

  “I’m afraid you leave tomorrow afternoon, so you best get back and get packing,” Colonel Shin told him. “I’ll come with you to give Rigoff the news. And Neeks.”

  “Where’s Grandpy off to?” Karna asked, surprised.

  “Down to Grasses.” Perrin’s pained smile remained on his face. “General Cush thought his old bones would appreciate something warmer. He won’t be going alone, though. Private Hili will be accompanying him.”

  Mahrree covered her mouth.

  Perrin turned to her. “It’ll be good for him. New place, no one knows his background. He’ll truly get a fresh start. Just what Shem told him he needed.”

  Mahrree’s chin trembled but she nodded. Jaytsy sniffed.

  “What about Unc—Sergeant Zenos?” Peto asked timidly.

  Perrin smiled at his children. “Seems the Administrators think Zenos is best at my side. Right now they trust me only as far as Zenos can reach. Terrified horses couldn’t drag him away. I know; I already tried something like that.”

  The Shin family tried not to look too relieved in front of the new officers.

  “We need to go,” Perrin said. “But I’ll be back as soon as I can.” As the other three soldiers mounted up, he gave his wife another quick kiss.

  She caught his arm. “You’ve got a lot to explain to me tonight, you know,” she whispered. “Why all these changes, and why now?”

  His answer couldn’t have been more cryptic. “Because the cats in the barn have found themselves a new wounded falcon.”

  Chapter 27 ~ “Then again, Shem impresses everyone.”