The Mansions of Idumea (Book 3 Forest at the Edge series) (43 page)

Brisack smiled. “Not really. Still working it
out myself. I’m quite interested to hear your philosophies, Giyak.
Please, continue.”

Perrin recognized the sarcasm and winked back
at the doctor.

Brisack beamed.

Giyak sighed again. “You see, those who
Nature have favored . . . Nature has favored. That’s all there is
to it. We, as a political entity, must also recognize that Nature
has chosen some for success rather than others. That so much of
Dripping Stream collapsed, and so many residents there died, merely
validates the fact that Nature did not choose those people.”

“Why, that’s very convenient, isn’t it?” said
Perrin sardonically.

“Yes. Yes, it is,” Giyak agreed, only vaguely
aware he was missing something.

“I don’t believe that’s
exactly
what
the colonel was saying,” Brisack said with a knowing squint at
Perrin. “I think he’s disagreeing with you, Giyak.”

The Administrator of Security scoffed again.
“So what you’re advocating, Colonel, is that we lower the standards
on the Eztates to raise those at the Stream? That would not bode
well for the politics of the area.”

“How so? And why should politics be a
concern?” Perrin demanded.

Giyak sighed as if dealing with a most
annoying teenager.

Brisack just continued to smile.

“Dripping Stream is
used
to their
condition,” Giyak tried valiantly. “They’re thrilled we stepping in
to help them reconstruct. Their houses will be the envy of people
like them.”

“
People like them
?” Perrin asked, his
skin itching at the phrase. “People like them. As if there are
different kinds of people in the world—”

“There are!” Giyak insisted. “Ask the
doctor.”

Brisack shrugged. “Please, Giyak, continue.
This is quite fascinating. Much I’ll have to consider.”

When Giyak shot Brisack an angry glance,
Perrin held up his hands. “Sirs, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Really, I’m
not trying to be difficult. I just don’t understand. In my mind,
everyone deserves a mansion. Except maybe for my son. He thinks the
Grand Hallway is for punting his new kickball. My mother was most
displeased by that.”

The officers chuckled and Giyak smiled
obligingly. Brisack grinned.

“I just worry about a society that deems one
person more worthy than another. I believe in the Creator, and I
believe He created us all equal. To see us deferring to some and
neglecting—I’m sorry, not ‘neglecting,’ but
marginalizing
others in order to favor another?”

“They pay more taxes, Colonel,” Giyak told
him. “They deserve more assistance.”

Perrin rubbed his forehead. “They’ve already
been ‘rewarded’ with more by their status. Is it truly fair or
right that a builder of a school makes three times as much as an
eggman? Don’t children need food as much as they need education? Or
why should I as a colonel make more than my major? We work the same
hours, at the same fort, doing each other’s job most of the time—I
don’t deserve more than Brillen simply because I now have brass
buttons on my uniform—”

A thought came so clearly to him that he was
momentarily startled it had never occurred to him before.

“My major,” he started slowly, talking to the
table, “needs more than I do. Or rather, he has a young woman with
sickly parents who need more than we do. My pay will go up a level
with the promotion, but I don’t need extra slips of silver—”

“What did he say?” Giyak asked Brisack. “Who
in the world doesn’t need more slips of silver?”

“—why should I take the extra?” Perrin
continued to muse out loud, forgetting anyone else was in the room.
“I earn more than enough, we don’t even need Mahrree’s earnings, in
a few years our children will be on their own, yet Brillen—if he
has more silver—will be able to change the lives of three more
people. If extra silver’s to be given, it should be given to him
with the greater need—”

Brisack leaned forward, fascinated, as he
watched the colonel thinking out loud.

“And my master sergeant—Shem makes even less,
but
he’s
the one taking the recruits out on all night
maneuvers, not me. He deserves extra pay for his extra headaches.
But who gets the credit for the highest retention of soldiers in
the world? Me. How’s that fair? Why are we perpetuating this? I
don’t get it.”

Giyak turned to Dr. Brisack. “Do you
understand what he’s talking about? Because I don’t. I really
don’t.”

Brisack grinned fully. “I don’t either, but
he’s marvelous to listen to. Don’t you agree?”

Giyak twisted to look at Perrin who was still
lost in thought.

The Creator had declared in The Writings that
each person was responsible for his brothers and sisters, Perrin
considered. So really, whose responsibility was it to provide
equity in the world?

Not the government’s.

It was
his.

“I was warned about you, Colonel, and I
didn’t believe it. But now?”

That brought Perrin out of his reverie.
Besides, he’d already made the decision. Mahrree would agree
completely.

Perrin looked up into the perplexed face of
Giyak. “Uh, I’m sorry. I just was a little . . . May I ask who
warned you?”

“Chairman Nicko Mal,” Giyak said
steadily.

Brisack chuckled.

Perrin tried to smile. “I am sorry, sir. I
thought I’d improved over the years, but I think my proximity to my
old university has triggered my adolescent need to challenge
everything anyone tells me. If my wife were here right now, she’d
give me a well-deserved lecture. And you’ve met Mahrree—no one can
lecture quite like her.”

Perrin kept the smile on his face hoping it
would work. Not his scary smile, his real one, or at least a close
proximity to it, because nothing in him at that moment felt
jovial.

He was miles away in thinking from these men,
and it was doing nothing good for the name of Shin. It would be his
father that suffered from that, not him. And the last thing his
father needed right now was more aggravation, caused by his
son.

Giyak couldn’t remain flustered. A smile grew
on his face, and Brisack chuckled louder. The two officers sitting
next to Perrin smiled—as deferring officers were known to smile—not
really understanding why they were, but doing so to avoid being
ordered, or questioned.

In the corner, Lieutenant Nelt continued to
scribble, and for a worrying moment Perrin wondered just how much
of his ramblings the young man had recorded.

“I believe our Colonel Shin has a unique way
of looking at the world,” Dr. Brisack decided. “And it would do
well for the world to perhaps hear a bit more of those views. Tell
me, Colonel: why is it that you’ve stayed all these years in the
north?”

Perrin shrugged. “I guess I’ve just grown
accustomed to the mountains. They tend to grow on you, you know? So
much land, in such an odd formation . . . I could stare at them for
hours just pondering things.”

Giyak shook his head slowly. “Truly, Colonel,
you’re the most peculiar man I’ve ever met. No one in the world
likes the mountains. They’re an aberration of Nature, a deformity
it has yet to rid itself of. And yet you seem to enjoy them?”

Brisack’s hands were clasped, his fingers
steepled in front of him, eagerly awaiting Perrin’s response.

“I suppose I do. One man’s deformity is
another man’s delight?”

“Odd,” was all Giyak could say. “Getting back
to the issue of paying for rebuilding in Edge—”

But Perrin wasn’t listening. He was too
engrossed in remembering what his son had recently said when they
saw the filthy man picking through the trash heaps. Why
did
the world assume the Administrators should solve all the problems?
If we are all family, as The Writings proclaimed, then shouldn’t
that family take care of their own?

“Paying for rebuilding Edge will be covered,”
Perrin said suddenly, surprising even himself.

Giyak shook his head, realizing he had missed
something. “You just said, you didn’t think it would be. There’s
not enough land to auction off—”

“Those requiring compensation will be
compensated, Administrator,” Perrin said confidently. “Idumea need
not raid its coffers for the citizens of Edge.”

“It’s not raiding coffers,” Brisack assured
him. “We want to do this for our citizens, for the families of the
world. We want to demonstrate that we will take care of them.”

“To ensure loyalty?” Perrin queried. “Because
Doctor, giving a little to those in need engenders a sense of
gratitude and loyalty; giving too much, however, creates a sense of
entitlement. And after that attitude has been placed, you have a
spoiled child who throws a fit whenever he’s not given every last
thing he wants. He’s no longer devoted to his benefactors, but
he’ll quickly follow whoever promises to give him more.”

Brisack thought about that. “I don’t think
so—”

“Oh, but I
know
so, Doctor. I saw it
all the time with the thieving youths of Edge. They came from the
most wealthy families. Their parents gave them everything, and they
repaid that by following the next person in line who would give
them just a little bit more: the Guarders. They didn’t need it.
They just wanted it.

“But there’s a way to avoid that, Doctor,
Giyak,” Perrin continued. “Provide enough to keep the villagers
going, and allow them to keep their pride. They need to be able to
say, ‘We persevered on our own, with a little assistance.’ All we
need, sirs, is a bit of food for the next few weeks to help with
our remaining stores. Just until the early harvest comes in. We
have resources for building, and I promise you the costs will be
taken care of, but if you provide food—just enough to get us by,
then Edgers will be everlastingly loyal to you, with their pride
intact.”

Giyak sneered slightly. “Where do you expect
us to get this food?”

“The garrison reserves,” Perrin said easily.
“I know there’s enough. My mother’s dinner isn’t using it all.” He
smiled at the men.

They didn’t return it yet.

He cleared his throat. “All we would need
would be about 10 wagon loads—the extra long wagons the garrison
uses for supply shipments—full of grain. We can survive on bread
for a few weeks until the first peas and lettuces are ready, and
new livestock is born. It would be only a small fraction of the
reserves; no one would miss it. And, if you’re concerned that they
would, Edge will pay you back. At the end of the season, we’ll send
back the same amount of grain that we took. The best way to secure
loyalty is to feel a sense of duty to your benefactors. We could
never repay the gold you’re offering. Edge does quite a bit in
bartering. But give us the grain, let us replace it again, and I
promise you that Edge will be forever loyal.”

He knew it’d work. His chest burned with the
energy of the idea, so much so that it took all his strength to not
leap out of his seat in excitement. This wasn’t his idea; it was
the Creator’s. He was sure of it.

“No,” Brisack said simply. “I don’t think it
will work.”

Perrin’s face screwed into a picture of
dismay.

“I mean, Colonel, I personally think it
stands a chance of success,” Brisack explained, “but I doubt those
who need to release the stores will agree. Not only do you need my
authorization and Giyak’s, but you also need the Administrators of
Taxation, Commerce, and Farming to agree. And your father, of
course, since he’s the holder of the key to it. Now, I’m sure the
Administrator of Security will give his approval—”

Giyak still stood with his furrowed brows,
running the proposal over in his mind.

“—but you won’t easily get Taxation. No one
easily gets Taxation,” Brisack chuckled mirthlessly. “However, the
funds for rebuilding Edge lie in a separate coffer, one that I
alone control. One that I will willingly give you—”

Perrin’s chest tightened. “Doctor, I
appreciate the offer, but it won’t work. You can’t buy the loyalty
of the village.”

“Buy?” Brisack blinked in surprise. “You see
this as a bribe?”

Perrin shrugged. “What else is it?”

“Charity!”

“No,” Perrin shook his head. “Charity is
something else. It comes from a deep sense of love, and asks for
nothing back. Charity’s greater than love, even. Love is a feeling,
but charity demands sacrifice, acting on that feeling. Forgive me,
but I don’t think you truly love Edge, because you don’t know them
well enough. What you’re offering is a bribe to retain their
loyalty. But like an ill-tempered dog, this will come back to bite
you. It takes away their dignity, and one of the few things Edgers
have a great deal of, in their own odd ways, is dignity. Let them
keep that. Feed them, let them repay you, and see if I’m not
right.”

Giyak scoffed and turned to the doctor. “Are
you just going to let him—”

Brisack held up a hand to silence him. “While
I am a doctor and the Administrator of Family Life, there’s
something I am above that: a scientist, and one who enjoys an
experiment with teeth. Perrin Shin, I will accept your
‘speculation’ that Edge will become more loyal if we provide only
food reserves. But I speculate against you.”

Perrin’s belly sank to his feet. “Sir?”

“Here’s my proposal: you return to Edge in
about two weeks, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I want you to evaluate Edge during the week
after that. Task some of your soldiers to ask those in need what
they want: food or gold. Then, after that week, send me a report as
to the results. I expect complete honesty from you, Colonel. Let
the people decide what they want and need.”

Perrin sighed. He couldn’t imagine why people
would want shiny metals when they needed warm bread, but then again
there were some less-than-logical villagers. “What if the results
are split?”