The Mansions of Idumea (Book 3 Forest at the Edge series) (25 page)

As long as one particular young woman didn’t
think him handsome. Or even meet him—

Perrin held out his hand. “You presume
correctly. Thorne, then is it?”

“Yes sir!
Lieutenant
Lemuel Thorne,
sir.”

As the lieutenant—and Perrin noticed the
emphasis on the title—shook his hand, Perrin did his best to hold
in his sneer.

“Sir, my grandfather told me to be watching
for you. I’m relieved to hear your father’s improving. Gave us all
quite a scare there, didn’t he? But he’s a wily old wolf, as my
grandfather’s fond of saying, so I was confident he would
improve.”

He was talkative, almost rehearsed.

Perrin hated anything practiced and
contrived. “Well, we’re grateful too that he’s growling again.
Lieutenant, I don’t want to keep you from your midday meal,
now—”

“I don’t need to eat,” Lieutenant Thorne said
as if he needed food only once a moon.

Like a snake, Perrin concluded.

“I’d much rather learn about the fort at
Edge, sir. If you have a few minutes?”

“I do,” Perrin smiled, and bit his tongue to
avoid adding,
unfortunately
. “I understand it’s your
ambition to become a commander of a fort?”

“I intend to be the youngest, sir. Next to
you, of course.” His steel blue eyes were as sharp as blades. “Even
though my own father is already a colonel—” the smugness oozed from
a corner of his mouth—“everyone knows you were the youngest
commander, and the youngest captain. That’s why I wanted to meet
you. I intend to learn from the best, sir.”

“Of course,” Perrin sighed. He was glad he
was missing his midday meal too. He had absolutely no appetite
left.

---

Peto licked the last of the sweet roll off
his fingers and looked hesitantly at his grandfather. “Grandmother
doesn’t know that you’re on to her hiding spot?”

Relf brushed his stubbly chin to make sure no
evidence remained. It was time to share some grandfatherly wisdom.
“An important key to good soldiering, son, is to never let the
enemy know you were there.”

Peto blinked uncertainly.

His grandfather continued. “So remove food
from the
back
of the plate, then subtly rearrange what
remains so she doesn’t realize it’s been disturbed.”

Peto grinned. “That’s what Kindiri told me to
do.”

Relf squinted worriedly. “So you . . . talked
to them? In the kitchen?”

“They weren’t discussing cucumber
sandwiches,” Peto assured him. “Just going on and on about the
sweet rolls.”

Relf only nodded slowly, grateful for his
grandson’s extreme innocence.

“So . . . what’d you want to talk about?”

His grandfather sighed. “I’m not quite sure
where to begin. Cush told me this morning he’s disappointed in you
because you still don’t want to be an officer.”

Peto looked down at his feet and ground some
of the crumbs into powder. “I’m sorry, I don’t. I’m not sure what I
want to be. I know you told me once that when I get older I’d—”

“That’s all right, Peto,” his grandfather
told him. “You don’t have to join the army.”

Surprised, Peto looked up. “But . . . I’m
supposed to be the fourth Shin general,” he said helplessly.

“There will be a fourth Shin general, boy,
when your father makes general. My great-grandfather was the
first,” he whispered.

Peto had never heard this story before. “Your
great-grandfather?”

“In fact,” General Shin continued in a low
voice, “he was one of the first generals
ever
, appointed by
King Querul the First during the Great War.” He leaned forward
slightly. “There were five generals all together then, and my
great-grandfather was to have been appointed the first High
General, but he wasn’t. No Shin earned that title until King Querul
the Fourth gave that honor to my father nearly eighty years later.
I always thought my grandfather Ricolfus who became a lieutenant
colonel before he died was the first officer in the army, but the
truth is, his father was first!”

Peto shook his head, fascinated. “Why didn’t
we know that?”

“Because
no one
knows, Peto.” Relf’s
eyes darted around as if concerned that someone who should have
been dismissed from the room was still lurking in a corner. “His
name isn’t even recorded in the history books, only the name of the
first High General, but none of the other generals at the
time.”

“Why not?”

“Because my great-grandfather failed the king
in his most important mission. He was made a general and given
command over fifty men to track down his own wife’s traitorous
family.”

Peto’s eyes widened.

“They left suddenly after the last Guide was
killed—my own great-great-grandfather, great-great-grandmother, and
their three daughters. Peto,” he whispered, “they were
Guarders!”

Peto’s mouth dropped open in shock, and he
wondered just how clear his grandfather’s mind was at the
moment.

“The only one of that family that remained in
Idumea was my great grandmother,” Relf continued in an urgent
whisper. “I’m fairly certain the first general never found his
in-laws and brought them to justice, otherwise the story would be
told over and over again and his name wouldn’t have been lost to
history. As it is, there really is no story. My father told me only
a couple of times about his grandmother, that general’s wife. I
guess she wasn’t a pleasant memory for him, because I remember him
saying his grandmother was always sad and lonely.”

Relf paused and looked off into some distant
thought.

Peto fought the urge to look in the same
direction to see if he saw anything.

“She was already an older woman, around
thirty-five, by the time she gave birth to my grandfather Ricolfus,
her only child,” Relf continued, as if suddenly remembering his
grandson was still there. “She was sixty-six by the time she became
a grandmother to my father Pere. Then she died before Pere reached
adulthood.”

With a sad smile he said, “My father told me
he never remembered his grandmother smiling. He never even told me
her name, and I don’t know what happened to her husband the
general. But he was gone before my father Pere was born, and he may
not have known his grandfather’s name.”

Peto’s mouth couldn’t have fallen open any
further. “There were Guarders? In our family? Does Father
know?”

Relf shook his head. “Perrin doesn’t know. I
didn’t even know until almost two weeks ago. I found some files, in
a crate in the cellar storage room dug out in the old garrison—my
storage room. I was there bringing down some work. Hate to have
piles of paperwork sitting around.”

He gestured in irritation at his desk where
several stacks waited.

“I decided to reorganize the place a bit
while I was there, to make it easier to find older documents. I
emptied out a large cabinet to move it to a better location. It’d
been leaning against a wall, and behind it is where I noticed the
crate. It was dug into the earthen wall, but it appeared as if the
wall had partially collapsed. The crate was half buried by dirt. I
don’t think those papers had been touched in over one hundred
thirty years. They were rather brittle, but still readable. They
were family histories, Peto!” Relf breathed.

Peto stared in astonishment.

“Not all of them, but a lot. I found my
family’s near the back in the S section. Actually,” he said wincing
in pain as he tried to reposition himself in the bed, “that’s where
I was when the tremor hit. I’d gone back early that morning to try
to read more history. No one would be there on a Holy Day, so I
knew it’d be a safe time to explore the crate. I thought all of the
histories had been destroyed in the great fire over a hundred
thirty years ago. You know about that, right? The destruction of
all of the family lines, Terryp the explorer’s findings, maps, and
nearly everything else important that was supposed to be
compiled?”

Peto snapped out his astonished reverie long
enough to say, “Have you ever met my parents, the lovers of history
and all things Terryp?”

Relf’s demeanor softened a moment to let him
chuckle. “Sorry. Stupid question. Of course they’ve told you,
likely many times.” Immediately his intensity returned. “But Peto,
these
records never made it to that holding room where the
fire destroyed everything. I don’t think anyone knew it was still
around, hidden behind that cabinet that stayed in the same position
since probably your father was a cadet.”

He sighed sadly and leaned against his
propped up pillows.

“Well, now I fear it’s all destroyed, buried
again by the tremor. That’s why it took so long for them to find
me. No one knew where I went that morning, not even Joriana. I
still haven’t told her what I discovered. I only told her I went to
rearrange the room.” Relf shifted his gaze to his grandson to gauge
his reaction to all that he’d revealed.

Peto leaned forward. “Did you bring back any
papers?”

“Not the first time, nor would I have dared
the second time, even if I could’ve got to them,” he whispered.
“Just consider, Peto, how would it look for the High General of
Idumea to have forbidden family lines? To be holding documents
written in his great-grandfather’s hand explaining how he was
ordered to find his wife’s family? Evidence that some of our
ancestors were Guarders?”

Peto pursed his mouth. “Yeah . . . I guess I
can see one or two problems with that.”

“So you’re not entirely slow,” Relf winked at
him before becoming serious again. “Even if I had just one page,
too many questions would be brought back up again, Peto, with
people searching in buildings they have no business being in. And
our family’s loyalty would be under scrutiny.”

Peto nodded soberly.

“
But
,” Relf said with surprising
mischief in his dark eyes, “I remember two names, Peto.” He took
his arm in earnest. “And I want you to remember them as well. The
name of the first general Shin, Ricolfus’s father, was Lek Shin.
His wife was Lorixania. I wished now I’d paid closer attention to
the names of their ancestors, or looked up Lorixania’s maiden name.
But I think this is all we need to have.”

Peto frowned. “Lek and Lorixania? It would be
hard to forget those names. I’ll remember, Grandfather.”

Relf firmed his grasp on his grandson.
“There’s something more, Peto. I hardly know how to speak it.” He
looked hard at him, searching his young, suddenly anxious, face.
“Peto, have you ever had . . . a dream?”

Peto looked at him oddly. “Yes, everyone has
dreams—”

“No, Peto—I mean, a dream that
means
something.”

Peto shook his head. “But The Writings talk
about them.”

His grandfather nodded. “I had been
neglecting those for a while—old Hogal always got on me about
that—but I’ve been reading them more closely recently. I wonder if
that’s why I was led to the crate,” he added more to himself.

He looked back at his grandson’s bewildered
face.

“Before you leave with your Father this
afternoon, find my copy for me, will you? Should be by my bed in
the west wing. There are some things I need to check. But Peto,
I’ve . . .
dreamed
since the tremor. I’ve had the dream a
few times now. Maybe it was a hallucination, brought on by lack of
water and food, or maybe it was because it was the first time in
years I was actually still enough to listen, and the Creator
finally had my attention—”

He stopped and looked at his grandson who was
waiting eagerly. No more procrastinating.

“Peto, your father
will
be a general.
But not just any general: the greatest general the world ever
saw.”

Even though Relf’s intensity was palpable,
his words weren’t anything Peto was expecting. He involuntarily
scowled. “Are you sure?”

Relf smiled understandingly and tilted his
head. “I know. It’s hard for a son to see his father as anything
more than the man who yells at him to help his mother and always
ends up with the biggest piece of chicken.”

Peto nodded. “And he never wants to move to
Idumea.”

Relf gripped his wrist tighter, and Peto
tried not to wince. “You may have to help change his mind. I don’t
understand it, but Peto, there’ll be a great conflict. Maybe
something with the Guarders. Your father will be at the head of
that conflict, organizing the battle, fighting it, bringing it to
an ultimate end that all the world will see! Ah, Peto!” Relf said
with a faraway look on his face as he released his grandson, “How I
wished I could be there by his side! He will be
great
, not
some general-for-looks as I am. At times I’m nothing but a
glorified law enforcer, sitting in this showy mansion to make the
people feel protected and the Administrators look good. We work for
peace, but the uncomfortable truth is that peace is a useless time
for soldiers.”

His grandson watched him worriedly, not sure
what to say.

Relf regarded him with a miserable smile.
“Don’t listen to
all
the ramblings of an old man, son. My
purpose in this life has been to prepare your father. I know that
now, and I also see how much I’ve neglected that duty. I was gone
so much, and I never really talked to him unless I phrased it as an
order. These past few days I’ve spent more time listening to my son
than I have in forty-three years. I don’t know from where he gets
his thoughts, or how he’s learned to think and feel so deeply. Not
from me, that’s for sure. He’s become a wonderful man, my boy has!”
Relf’s voice became shaky. “I don’t deserve him.”

Peto looked down so as to not see the emotion
that rose suddenly in his grandfather’s face.

“Grandfather,” he said quietly, “why don’t
you tell him this?”

Relf gripped his wrist again, and for a
moment Peto wondered if it were to transfer something of himself
into his grandson.