The Mansions of Idumea (Book 3 Forest at the Edge series) (20 page)

“Yes, sir!” the cheerful corporal called
down. It wasn’t every day he was ordered to drive aggressively.

Peto’s eyes grew big as he noticed the
convergence of two roads and dozens of carts, wagons, and even
another coach all approaching at the same time. He looked worriedly
at his father.

“We’re the biggest,” Perrin said, sizing up
the traffic. “That means we get to go first. The problem is getting
everyone else to understand that. That’s when things get
complicated. Hold on!” and he wrapped his arm tighter around his
wife.

The corporal cracked his whip and shouted, a
bit too eagerly, “Make way! Make way!”

The Shins watched worriedly through the
windows as people stepped quickly off the road, a wagon turned
suddenly out of the way, several horses reared and nearly tossed
their riders, and two carts stopped abruptly. The other coach on
its way to intersect their path had to veer to their right to fall
in behind the army coach. Its driver shouted some words that Peto
and Jaytsy had never heard before, but made their mother blush.

As their coach made a sharp turn, Mahrree
slid out of Perrin’s grip and off of his lap, and Jaytsy crashed
into Peto, smashing him against the side.

Perrin just smiled dourly. “Welcome to
Idumea.”

“How many of those will we encounter?”
Mahrree asked, breathless on the floor, and cautiously pulled
herself to get back up onto the seat next to Perrin.

“Until we reach my parents’ place?” He gave
her a steadying hand and brushed some dust off her skirt.
“Considering it’s near dinner time and everyone’s trying to get
home—maybe a dozen or so. It’s called ‘dawdle hour.’ Everyone’s
delayed.”

His wife paled.

“My father had a good idea for regulating the
roads, but no one would implement it. He thought people should take
turns. Have someone hold up a red flag for a while for one road,
then a blue flag for another, signaling when those on the road
could go. Could have saved a lot of aggravation. But his idea was
killed by the Administrator of Transportation.”

“Why?” Mahrree asked, baffled.

“That Administrator has a lot of connections
with those who work in wagon repair. The more damage to vehicles,
the more business they get. If they reduce accidents, they reduce
work.”

Mahrree was shocked. “But, but . . . people
get hurt in those accidents, don’t they?”

“Sometimes there are fatalities, but mostly
people just get injured. So that’s more business for the doctors as
well,” Perrin said with sad smugness. “The Administrator over
Health and Wellness pointed that out.”

Mahrree was stunned silent, but Jaytsy had an
opinion. “That’s terrible!”

“Ah,” Perrin smiled dismally at his daughter,
“now you’re beginning to sound more like me.”

The next jam was a perfect illustration of
why the administrators over transportation, and health and wellness
were upheld by their supporters. Two wagons had collided and
spilled their cargos, one wheel was broken, and so was someone’s
leg.

Perrin grumbled as he saw the mess. The
traffic had slowed to an old woman’s shuffle as each wagon and
rider turned to look at the scene as they passed.

“They call this ‘grandmothering’—creeping
along to see what’s happened, then making a few snide comments
about the general decline of people today. This may take some time.
Corporal?” he called up, “Can you turn around?”

“Already looking for a way, sir.”

Suddenly the coach door jerked open and there
stood an older man with a jolly face, his great girth forced into a
dark blue uniform full of medals. “Well, Perrin, since you might be
delayed for a bit, I thought I’d come join you.”

“General Cush!” Perrin exclaimed. “I haven’t
seen you in what, sixteen years?”

“Then I’m surprised you still recognize me.
Never come home, never visit the old timers—” He smiled as he
hefted himself into the coach which swayed under his weight.

Mahrree dove for the opposite bench between
her children, grateful that she hadn’t been sitting on her
husband’s lap again when the general surprised them. Jaytsy let out
a tiny yelp of anxiousness, and Peto actually tried to sit at
attention. Mahrree snatched Perrin’s cap from the dusty floor and
tossed it to him. While General Cush was turning slowly to aim
himself at the seat, Perrin frantically wiped off his cap and
replaced it properly on his head.

By the time the general sat, making the coach
sway dangerously in his direction, Perrin was the very model of a
composed officer.

Even though General Cush wore a dust-free
cap, Mahrree could tell he had only a fringe of dark hair remaining
around his head, and a thin dark beard and mustache trimmed short
to conform to the grooming standards of the army. But Mahrree was
sure he was never in hand-to-hand combat with a Guarder that could
grab hold of his beard. A Guarder could, however, get a handhold on
his ample belly, she thought impolitely. Perhaps there was a size
requirement for generals, and if they couldn’t meet it in height
and bulk, they could make up for it in width.

General Cush stuck his head out of the window
and spoke to an unseen officer on horseback. “Lieutenant Riplak,
I’ll ride with the Shin family the rest of the way. You go on ahead
and tell Mrs. Shin we’re in a jam at the beginning of the shopping
district. They’re trapped just where I predicted they would
be.”

The coach lurched again, caused by another
weight joining the corporal holding the reins of the stalled
horses.

“My best driver will get us out of here in a
bit,” Cush assured them. “I have a feeling your corporal hasn’t
seen congestion like this.”

“Cush, how’s my father?” Perrin asked
urgently.

The general patted Perrin’s leg. “He may be
sixty-eight, but he’s a tough old wolf. He’s very weak, though.
Hasn’t had food or water for days, but the surgeon’s trying to get
some down him. Some broken ribs possibly, concussion, and he lost
blood from a deep gash in his leg. They found him trapped and
unconscious in that storage room of his, in the cellar of the old
garrison. He was under such a mountain of debris it took another
three hours to dig him out. Frankly, we were all surprised he still
had a pulse. Everyone, except for your mother.”

Perrin’s eyebrows furrowed. “What was he
doing down there early on a Holy Day morning?”

Cush shrugged. “You know your father and his
paperwork. Probably had a nightmare that one page in one file was
slightly out of place, so he had to go see for himself.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me? As soon as he was
missing?”

“And what would you have done if a messenger
had come that first day?” Cush’s tone turned sharp. “Would you have
left your duty in Edge? Was there anything you could’ve done here
to make a difference? Everyone in Idumea was searching for
survivors. I doubt one more body would have found him faster.”

“But my mother—”

“Was the one who wouldn’t let anyone send you
a messenger,” Cush cut him off. Then, more gently he added, “Not
until she knew what kind of news to send you. Duty first,
Lieutenant Colonel. Remember?”

Perrin nodded, but he slouched and stared
blankly out the window.

Mahrree tried to catch his eye, but felt
Cush’s gaze instead.

The general brightened as he took in the
scene across from him. “Now, speaking of remembering one’s duty . .
. Perrin, you’ve yet to introduce me to your family.” He nudged
Perrin with his elbow.

Perrin blinked and sat up. “I’m sorry, sir,”
he said formally, and Mahrree was impressed with how quickly he
shifted back into officer mode. “Advising General Aldwyn Cush, may
I present my wife Mahrree, my daughter Jaytsy, and my son
Peto.”

The general smiled broadly. “Wonderful to
finally meet you. Joriana was hoping you’d be along. Talks about
you all the time to my wife.”

“Thank you, sir,” Mahrree smiled. “The Shins
have been trying to get us here for a long time. I guess they
decided to do something drastic to force the visit.”

Cush chuckled pleasantly.

The coach had turned around and was heading
down a narrow side road, filling it nearly entirely. Mahrree pitied
anyone thinking of coming in the opposite direction; they likely
were fleeing into adjoining alleys.

“I find the lack of damage here remarkable,”
Mahrree said as she peered out the window. “The reports suggested
Idumea was in far worse condition.”

“Some areas are, ma’am,” the general said
soberly. “The land tremor acted like a wave in a small pool. Some
of our men on the towers could actually see a wave ripple from the
north, then suddenly bounce back from some point in the south.
Where two crests of the waves met, that’s where the greatest damage
occurred. Everywhere else simply rode out the waves with just a few
things falling off of shelves. Strangest thing I’ve ever
experienced. Many of the poorer and older neighborhoods were
completely demolished, though. And one of the crests hit the old
garrison causing complete devastation.”

“As if the land underneath the area is all
water, or some other kind of fluidic matter?” Mahrree wondered.

“Very good, Mrs. Shin. One of our scientists
suggested that at the briefing this morning.” The general elbowed
Perrin again. “I didn’t know you married a thinking woman. Makes me
wonder, what was she thinking when she agreed to marry you?” He
laughed loudly at his own joke, and Mahrree smiled at Perrin’s
discomfort.

“So, young man,” the general sized up Peto.
“Do you have aspirations to follow in your father’s footsteps?”

Mahrree watched her son closely from the
corner of her eye. She knew the answer, as did Perrin, but she
wondered if Peto would have the courage to confess the truth to the
second most powerful officer in the world. His grandfather still
hadn’t accepted the answer, expecting that time and maturity would
change his mind.

Peto squirmed a little as he addressed the
large general. “Not really, sir.”

“‘Not really’?” Cush blinked, incredulous.
“Three generations of Shin men have been generals in Idumea, well
it
will
be three if Perrin here ever shapes up,” he nudged
Perrin again who smiled obligingly, “and you don’t want to be the
fourth? Why not?”

Peto shifted under the study of General Cush.
“Because I don’t like horses and I don’t like getting hurt.”

The general was thoughtful for a moment
before he burst out in a short laugh. “Good reasons, boy! So you’re
not like your father, eh? You look a lot like him, from what I
remember. But it’s a good thing for your mother you’re not Young
Perrin Shin.”

Jaytsy began to smile. “Just what kind of
trouble did Father cause, General? Sounds like you’ve known him a
long time.”

General Cush pointed a chubby finger at
Jaytsy. “I
like
this girl, Perrin. Watch out for her!
Beautiful young lady.”

Jaytsy blushed.

“Miss Shin, I’ve known this boy,” and he
slapped Perrin’s thigh loudly, “since he was just a little thing.
What kind of trouble? Perrin, hold up your hand. No, the other one.
You know what I mean.”

Reluctantly, Perrin held up his left
hand.

The general took him roughly by the wrist and
forced his fingers together.

Perrin winced slightly.

“Hmm. There. See it? How that last finger
bulges out from the others? I can tell you exactly how that
happened.”

“Father already told us,” Peto said. “An
incident with the Guarders, right after they were married.”

“Wait a minute,” said Mahrree slowly. “You
weren’t injured in that, except for a lot of scrapes and cuts.”

“I didn’t tell you about my hand. You were
sick with expecting Jaytsy, and I didn’t want to worry you.” He was
almost believable.

“Liar!” Mahrree exclaimed. “I noticed that
gimpy finger of yours before we were married. I even asked you
about it once, remember? You gave me some lame explanation. I can’t
remember now . . .”

“So General,” Perrin said abruptly, pulling
his hand from Cush’s grip and turning to face him properly. “How
are the rescue and recovery operations going on here? I’d like to
see what we could do to improve our response time in Edge.”

The general looked at him for a moment, then
ignored his diversionary tactic and turned to his family. “He
jumped. Off the stockade fence that surrounded the old garrison in
Idumea.” He turned slowly to look at Perrin. “To impress a
girl!
”

Mahrree’s eyebrows rose. “Please tell me he
was younger than twenty-seven when he did that.”

The general smiled. “He was eleven.”

“Ohh,” Mahrree said, remembering. “You told
me,” she rounded on to her husband, “that when you were eleven
someone
sat
on your hand! I thought that sounded fishy. But
you jumped?”

Perrin looked at the expectant faces of his
two children. It was time for damage control. “It was a foolish
thing to do, and I was
not
trying to impress a girl. I was
trying to prove her wrong. I seem to have a compulsive need to do
that, quite to my detriment.” He glanced at his wife.

The general began to chuckle, and Mahrree
snorted.

“She said it would be stupid to climb up
there and jump—” Perrin tried to explain.

“So you proved her right,” Peto finished for
him.

His sister giggled.

“I almost succeeded,” Perrin defended. “I
landed quite well on my feet, but my momentum caused me to fall
forward and I fell on my hand.”

“Is that also how you got that scar on your
forehead?” Mahrree prodded. “That was the first thing I noticed
about you. Also another injury you never elaborated on.”

The general cleared his throat
expectantly.

Perrin gave him a sidelong glance. “Yes, I
injured my head at that time as well.”