The Mansions of Idumea (Book 3 Forest at the Edge series) (42 page)

That Joriana didn’t immediately answer
disappointed Mahrree. She thought the solution was obvious.

“You see,” her mother-in-law began after a
hesitation, “it’s not intended for
regular
people. Certainly
you and Perrin and the children could take something back, and
enough for the soldiers, but it’s not for everyone,
understand?”

“No, actually, I don’t.”

She sighed. “It’s for necessary people.”

Mahrree bristled at that. “Who decides who is
‘necessary’?”

“The Administrators have.”

“Is Kindiri necessary?”

“As part of our household, yes.”

“What about her brother Kuman and his wife?”
Mahrree pressed.

Joriana thought for a moment. “I’m sure some
surplus could be sent quietly their way, as it could be sent to
your mother.”

“What about their neighbors?” Mahrree pushed.
“If a mere cook and a dressmaker and an old woman are ‘necessary,’
why aren’t their neighbors necessary? Who’s to judge who deserves
life and who deserves death? Are the Administrators the Creator now
as well?”

Joriana let out an exasperated breath.

Mahrree held hers. She’d done it again, gone
too far.

“Mahrree,” her mother-in-law said in a
strained voice, “I love you as if you were my own daughter. In
fact, I don’t know how I could love you more. But so help me, you
are the most vexing woman that ever was! Has anyone ever told you
that?”

Mahrree winced. “Yes. Quite often. My own
mother, for starters,” she said apologetically. “I blame it on my
father, though. He always pushed me to ask the tough questions and
find the hard answers.”

“Well when I get to the other side, I’m going
to find him and have a little chat!” Joriana said sharply.

Mahrree couldn’t respond, too delighted by
the idea of tall, elegant Mrs. Shin marching up to her small,
slender father. She’d have her hands on her hips in anger, he’d
have a finger on his lips in patient contemplation, and when she
finished letting him have it, he would say something like, “So what
do you think about the color of the sky here in Paradise? And did
you know no arguing is allowed?”

Joriana nudged her with her elbow, and
Mahrree looked to the side to see Joriana’s pained eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mahrree. I didn’t mean to bring
up sad memories.”

Mahrree threw her head back and laughed.
“Quite the opposite, Mother Shin! I was just thinking how much
he’ll aggravate you. I’m not really sure that’s allowed up there,
though, so it should be quite a meeting.”

Mrs. Shin chuckled with relief as they turned
a corner down to the bakery. After a moment she said, “I’m sure
there’s something that can be done for Edge. When Perrin comes home
from the garrison we’ll ask him to check on the reserves tomorrow.
Perhaps something could be spared, just to make things a little
easier for everyone.”

“Will the Administrators allow it?”

“I really don’t know. I hope so. The garrison
holds it, but the Administrators put it there. I think the one to
make the final decision is Relf. It’s just one of those things, you
know? The things that we just have to work around? Really, though,
life is far better now than when we had the kings. From year to
year you never knew what impulsive decision they’d make next. You
didn’t feel it as much in Edge, but Idumea was a very unpredictable
place. At least with the Administrators when there’s a change, it
takes place so slowly we can prepare for it. Relf helped put that
in their Resolutions, you know. He told Nicko Mal that he’d support
the overthrow as long as the new government put in some kind of
check on its decisions. Decrees pass only after weeks of
discussions in committees and with the approval of the majority of
Administrators. That was Relf’s insistence, and why there’s an odd
number of members,” Mrs. Shin explained, “and why Nicko Mal has the
power to decide a tied vote if someone is absent or abstaining,”
she finished, obviously pleased with her husband’s
accomplishments.

“I hadn’t realized he influenced so much in
developing the government,” Mahrree said. “There’s nothing written
in the history texts about Relf Shin’s assistance in creating the
government.”

“Because the Administrators didn’t want to
seem as if they were influenced by anyone else but their own
ideals,” said Joriana, a bit put off by the slight so many years
ago. “But everyone knows that without the full support of the
army—without
Relf
,” she clarified proudly, “the overthrow
never would’ve happened. At least, not peacefully. The
Administrators owe a great deal of gratitude to the Shin family.
Perhaps that will help us have some influence over them again?” She
stopped walking, and Mahrree saw they stood in front of the first
bakery on their list.

Debt of gratitude to the Shin family? Mahrree
pondered that. Most people forget a debt within minutes—never mind
decades—because that way they’ll never feel the need to repay
it.

But influence? Oh, the Shin family definitely
had influence. But enough?

Pushing aside those troubling thoughts,
Mahrree smiled at her mother-in-law’s expectant face and addressed
another more manageable worry. “So this is where you ordered the
cakes, is it?”

Chapter 13
~
“As if there are different kinds of people in the
world.”

“
M
y, she’s certainly
a thorough woman, isn’t she?”

Perrin chuckled tightly. “Yes, Administrator
Giyak. When Mahrree gets started on something, there’s really no
stopping her.” Then he held his breath. If there would be any
fallout from what she’d said yesterday morning, it would likely
come now.

The Administrator of Security sifted through
the detailed pages of what had occurred in Edge, and Mahrree’s
recommendations for the future. “So I see,” he muttered, smiling
faintly at the words. “Probably fortunate for the world she can’t
be elected a magistrate. She’d redo the entire village.”

Perrin forced another chuckle. “She’s said
the same thing herself. Good thing, eh?”

The Administrator glanced up at him with an
expression that said,
We’ll just let yesterday slide.

Perrin nodded once back.

“So,” Giyak looked at the other three
officers seated at the table with Perrin, then at the Administrator
of Family Life who sat across from them, watching Perrin intently.
“We’re here to discuss the reaction of the villages and forts to
the recent crisis, and to catalogue what has so far proven
successful, and the ways we need to improve—”

Perrin put his hand under the table and made
a rolling motion, hoping it would subliminally encourage the
Administrator of Security to get to his point. In the corner sat a
young officer madly trying to record every unnecessary word. Perrin
regarded poor Lieutenant Nelt with sympathy.

“—and we’ll start with Colonel Shin, whose
village, it seems, was one of the hardest hit. We have the details
of the clean up efforts,” he waved Mahrree’s pages, “but what I’m
wondering is, how is Edge planning to pay for all the
rebuilding?”

Perrin exhaled. “Sir, that’s what I’m
wondering too. For now, everyone is helping, but that’s because
they’re numb. Once that numbness wears off, it will turn to pain.
And no one seems to think that pain is part of the human condition;
they seem to think they should be compensated for it.”

“Interesting observation, Colonel,” Dr.
Brisack smiled warmly. “You’re absolutely right. The glow of
generosity will fade, and then?”

“Well, the labor’s free, so to speak,” Perrin
said. “It’s mostly the soldiers doing the work, culling lumber from
the river banks and edges of the forest. I can compensate them for
their double shifts later by giving them extra days off and
relaxing on drills. But the sawmill will want to be paid. So will
others who have been generous with livestock they’ve given to be
butchered. I worry that the glow’s already died, Doctor. Now, there
have been a few families completely wiped out by the tremor. We can
auction off what remains of their possessions, then use that money
to help compensate, but that likely won’t be enough . . .”

He trailed off, unsure of what else to say.
It’d been pressing on him for days, how to help those who had lost
everything. Some of the shop owners not only lost all their goods,
but their gold and silver. Most had their metals hidden in their
stores, and it melted in the heat of the blazes, slipping
irretrievably into cracks of stone. The memory of Mr. and Mrs.
Snobgrass, sobbing at the charred remains of their shoppe—even the
extra
p
and
e
reduced to ash like their
adornments—tore at him.

Perrin looked at his hands as if there might
be a solution there he hadn’t noticed. “What are you doing in
Idumea?”

“Well,” Giyak began proudly, “we have a
surplus, as we have always had, in reserve for such a situation.
Major?”

The major sitting next to Perrin produced
several pieces of parchment. “Full listings of homes that were
damaged or destroyed, along with the estimates to repair or replace
them.”

The Administrator of Security took the pages
and turned to the last one, looking at the final total. “Just as we
expected. You see, Colonel Shin, the Administrators will pay for
the repairs of all these homes.”

Perrin’s jaw dropped. “You . . . you will
what?”

Dr. Brisack grinned. “Fantastic, isn’t it?
That’s what this Administration has done for the world, Colonel
Shin:
we provide
.”

Perrin shook his head in astonishment.
“That’s . . . that’s really quite amazing. And what do you expect
back?”

Giyak scoffed. “Nothing, Colonel! This is why
we’re here: to take care of every little thing, as your wife so
accurately accused us of yesterday. Could the kings ever have done
something like this? Of course not! But
we’re
here for the
people.”

“And you want nothing back? Well, except for
what you already take in ever-increasing taxes and fees,” Perrin
muttered to himself. He swallowed when he realized the
Administrators were staring at him.

“All we want, dear Colonel,” Giyak said
distinctly, “is devotion. Loyalty. Allegiance. Is that too much to
ask?”

Oh, it could be, Perrin thought bitterly,
depending on what the Administrators are loyal
to
.

He realized he hadn’t answered yet when the
lieutenant colonel sitting on the other side of him coughed
quietly.

“Loyalty,” Perrin began, desperately
searching for a response that would please them yet allow him to
remain true to himself, “is always a noble characteristic,” he
finished vaguely.

Giyak nodded, seemingly satisfied by the
answer. But Dr. Brisack watched Perrin with a faint smile.

Giyak dropped the pages in front of Perrin.
“Take a look at what we can do for Idumea, Colonel. And perhaps we
can do the same for Edge.”

Perrin missed the suggestion as he thumbed
through the pages. He looked at the first, then at the fourth, then
back to the first again. “Sir, I don’t understand . . . here’s the
estimate for rebuilding a two bedroom home in the north near Pools,
and another estimate for a similarly sized home in eastern Idumea.
The home in the north is budgeted for nearly twice as much as the
other house. Why?”

Giyak looked at the major for an
explanation.

“Zebra Eztates vs. Dripping Stream.”

“Ah,” Giyak nodded. “Of course. Colonel, the
quality of houses in Zebra Eztates is markedly different than
Dripping Stream. Those that live in Zebra Eztates—”

“Wait a minute,” Perrin interrupted. “Don’t
both families deserve the same quality of construction? Look at
this—most of Dripping Stream was devastated. Why is that?”

“Poorer construction,” the major told him.
“Older homes. The place has been rundown for quite some time. It’s
convenient so much was destroyed. Been wanting to clear that area
out for a while,” he sniffed.

“So the houses you’ll replace will be
again
of inferior construction?” Perrin asked, genuinely
bewildered.

Dr. Brisack leaned forward on the table, and
Perrin felt as if he were being analyzed.

“They don’t mind,” the major promised him.
“They’re used to simpler things. But those in Zebra Eztates,
they’re used to better, so they need better.”

“Everyone deserves a sturdy house, Major!”
Perrin declared.

Brisack smiled indistinctly.

Giyak scoffed. “There’s simply not enough
funds to build everyone a mansion, Colonel!”

“I don’t live in a mansion in Edge,
Administrator,” Perrin said steadily. “I live a fifty-year-old home
with three odd additions to it, two made solely by me. It’d
probably qualify as a Dripping Stream home—”

“I see,” Giyak cut him off. “Colonel, if this
is about building you a better home, that’s what your new colonel’s
bonus is for—”

“It is NOT about me!” a frustrated Perrin
bellowed, slamming his hand on the table and stunning every man
there. “It’s about treating everyone fairly! Dripping Stream
deserves the same as Zebra Eztates, and if you can’t afford that,
then rebuild Zebra Eztates the same as Dripping Stream. And change
the name while you’re at it. Ridiculous spelling of Eztates!”

Brisack burst out laughing, but stopped when
he realized he was the only one. He winked at the colonel.

Perrin looked apprehensively back at him.

Giyak exhaled. “Colonel, I appreciate your
sense of fairness. Very few men have that anymore. That’s what
makes you an excellent commander, I’m sure. But politics is
different. More delicate. Those that live in Zebra Eztates are, are
. . . more achieved. More deserving of their station in life. They
worked harder, are smarter . . . I don’t know. Perhaps the good
doctor could explain to us the differences in achievement in one’s
life.”