The Mansions of Idumea (Book 3 Forest at the Edge series) (58 page)

“And certainly nothing so wet and heavy,”
Shem mused as he looked at the ball of snow rapidly melting in his
hand.

“You finished the Shins’ roof, right?” Karna
asked.

Shem, still examining the snow, nodded. “Poe
and I moved their mattress back in yesterday, and not a moment too
soon. This snow—it’s very heavy.”

“Oh, that’s not good,” the sergeant
murmured.

“Why?” Karna asked urgently. “What does it
mean?”

Shem swallowed. “Snow isn’t necessarily bad,”
he started. “As long as it doesn’t freeze tonight.”

Karna rubbed his stubbly chin. “Freeze? Would
that kill the pea plants?” He came from a family of wagon makers,
not farmers.

“Maybe not,” Shem said, “but the bigger
concern is, it could destroy all the blossoms that are just
starting to bloom on the fruit trees.”

“No blossoms, no fruit later,” clarified the
sergeant, whose family owned orchards.

Karna sat down hard on a chair. “Is there
anything we can do?”

Shem shook his head as he wiped his wet hand
on his trousers. He stood up, walked to the large windows that gave
them unobstructed views of the forest and Edge, and pressed his
face close to the window to see out into the dark night. It had the
faint glow that usually accompanied a snowstorm. “We pray.”

“I leave the praying to you and Perrin,”
Karna sighed. “You know that, Shem.”

“Now’s as good as time as any to begin,
Brillen.”

---

“Perrin, I’ve been thinking . . .” Mahrree
started.

“Why?” he mumbled into his pillow.

“Because the mansion is finally quiet
again—”

“I meant, why do you start thinking when I’m
ready to go to sleep? It’s so late it’s well on its way to
tomorrow. In the morning we have to finish cleaning up, then—”

“This will take only a minute.”

“Nothing with you ever takes only a minute,”
he murmured.

“What did you say?”

“Just . . . talk already.”

“All right, I told you a couple of hours ago
that I didn’t appreciate my mother trying to set me up with men.
But I think I would have disliked it even more if she tried to
discourage a potential relationship.”

“Your minute’s about up.”

“She danced with him five times.”

“Who?” Perrin mumbled.

“Jaytsy. With Lemuel Thorne.”

Perrin groaned.

“Had my mother actively campaigned
against
someone, that might have driven me straight to his
arms.” She paused.

“I’m listening,” he encouraged.

In triumph, Mahrree smiled to their dark
bedroom. “Before we leave for Edge, I think we should invite the
Cushes and Thornes over for dinner one night. Your families have
been friends for so many years, after all. Let’s see if there’s
anything between Jaytsy and that lieutenant. And Versula Thorne
seems a nice enough woman,” she added, almost nastily.

His moan was long and low and loud.

She expected that. There was something about
Versula—it was obvious—something more than just a crush gone wrong
at age eleven. Perrin had always been very quiet about his teenage
years, and Mahrree suspected that was because he hadn’t exactly
spent them alone
.

Not that Mahrree felt any threat from Mrs.
Thorne, or worried that Perrin had any lingering feelings for
her—the way he gripped her shoulder and pulled her close suggested
he was desperate to keep her by his side.

But when a woman purposely—sensuously,
almost—drags her finger across a scar she left long ago, and says
things like, “I often think about that,
and wonder
,” a
phrase that sounds like something meant to be known by only two
people, it’s a pretty good indication she’s hoping
he
thinks
and wonders, too.

And now Mahrree was wondering as well.

When he finally stopped moaning, Perrin said,
“Mahrree, Mahrree, Mahrree . . . why now? Do we really have to do
this now?”

“Why?” She tried hard to quiet her giggle,
but she enjoyed his uneasy squirming. “Was there ever something
more
between you and Versula Thorne? Something you haven’t
told me about yet, that maybe I should know before she comes over
for dinner and
watches
you again? And
wonders
?”

He moaned longer than any other man in the
world ever had.

They weren’t about to get to sleep anytime
soon.

---

In the middle of the night, the fort at Edge
was in a panic.

“I can’t think of anything else to do, Shem!”
Karna said, nearly frantic, as they stood in the falling snow and
stared at the disaster.

Shem shook his head slowly, trying to keep
his own alarm in check. “Neither can I, Brillen. He has to be told,
by someone who can relay the message best. But not by one of them.
He hates the Administrative messengers.”

“But time and speed are critical right now!”
Grandpy Neeks insisted, uncharacteristically wringing his hands.
“Using them—as much as I distrust them—is the only option.”

Lieutenant Rigoff nodded and looked at the
older men for direction.

“Not necessarily. What we need—” Shem sighed
as a plan unfolded in his mind. It was the very best option . .
.

. . . and the very worst thing he could think
of doing. “What we need is someone who has a special talent.”

“What kind of talent?” Karna demanded.

“Someone good at
stealing
things.”

“Stealing things?!”

“Like perhaps horses,” Shem intoned
wretchedly. “From the messenger service . . .”

---

Fifteen minutes later Shem Zenos and Brillen
Karna faced a worried Qualipoe Hili in the stables. When he saw the
bleak looks on the men’s faces, he dismounted from his horse and
saluted as smartly as he could.

“Sirs? You needed to see me?”

Major Karna looked sidelong at Master
Sergeant Zenos, who studied the new private.

“Sit down, Poe,” Shem gestured to a bale of
hay.

Poe’s eyes flitted anxiously to Karna.

The major nodded for him to take a seat, so
he did, nervously rubbing his palms on his trousers.

“Poe, what I’m about to ask, I
ask
—not
order,” Shem said carefully. “If you turn me down, I understand
completely, and there will be no repercussions whatsoever.”

“But if you choose to volunteer,” Karna told
him, “
we
will take all the responsibility—”

“No, Karna—just me,” Shem interrupted.
“You’re an officer. If you’re involved, and things go wrong, it’ll
be much worse for you than for me.”

“No, Zenos,” Karna turned to him, “that’s not
how—”

“What about Miss Robbing?” Zenos cut him
off.

Karna swallowed.

“Would she really consider marriage to a man
who just lost his commission?”

“Sirs, please,” Poe fidgeted. “What’s all of
this about?”

The two men looked back at Poe, and he
thought their expressions were surprisingly sympathetic.

“This will seal it,” Zenos said, suddenly
unbuttoning his jacket. “Proves it was my idea. Don’t even bother,
Brillen,” he said to the major who started to unbutton his own
jacket. “No one would ever believe he’s an officer.”

“But they’d believe he’s a master
sergeant?”

Poe grew impatient. “Sirs! What’s going
on?”

Shem wrenched off his jacket in victory and
held it out to Poe Hili. “A temporary promotion, so to speak. And,”
he continued in a low tone, “a request of immense importance and of
utmost secrecy.”

Poe looked at Major Karna for verification,
and he nodded soberly.

“What is it, sirs?”

“Poe,” Shem began hesitantly, as if afraid to
bring it up. “I know you’ve successfully stolen horses in the past.
What we need to know is, just
how
successful were you?”

---

The next morning Mahrree woke up sore,
exhausted, and surprisingly cold. She and Perrin had been up very
late last night; first cleaning up what had to be put away before
bed, then Perrin confessing that yes, there had been a relationship
off and on with a certain general’s daughter when he was younger,
but it was over a long time ago and he doubted there was anything
left of it.

Now the morning had come far too early.

She shuddered to think that it was the
cleanup day. Granted servant-soldiers would do most of the work,
but she’d be expected to take notes on everything to remember “For
next year,” as she had repeatedly heard from her mother-in-law.

She shivered under the blankets, wondered why
for a moment, and snuggled closer to her husband. The room seemed
lighter than it should be for this hour, and she peered open her
eyes to see a strange brightness out the window.

She opened her eyes fully, sat up for a
better look, and gasped.

It hit her then that
not once
since
they’d come to Idumea had she ever looked to check the color of the
sky.

She always did in Edge. Sometimes it was to
remind herself of the reality of its color, and to prove to
herself, once again, that despite the fact that everyone in the
world had been conditioned to believe the sky was blue no matter
what, it really wasn’t. She wouldn’t ignore the fantastic colors of
the sunrise and sunset or the intensity of the star-filled sky with
the two moons that slowly traversed it. But she also checked the
sky each day to see when a storm might be approaching, analyzing
the shapes of the clouds that drifted in from the north and
east.

This storm had caught her completely
unawares, and that realization tightened her chest.

Were there signs? Yes, yesterday had been
unseasonably warm, with a northeasterly breeze—

She closed her eyes and groaned. Had she
looked to the sky, just once, she would’ve noticed the signs. But
she was like everyone else in Idumea, rushing around here and
there, constantly inspecting this and that, but never looking
up.

It was as if there was a drum in the heart of
the city, pounding the same rhythm over and over again in a quietly
hypnotic way: diSTRACTion, diSTRACTion, diSTRACTion. And she had
fallen under its effect in record time.

“My darling wife, what have you done with the
blankets?” Perrin mumbled. “It’s cold in here.”

“It’s cold because . . . because it’s
snowing!” Mahrree said, not believing the words that came out of
her mouth.

“What?”

“Get up and look for yourself!” She wanted
confirmation that all of this wasn’t a just a weird dream.

“It doesn’t snow this late in the year around
here,” Perrin murmured into his pillow. “Besides, last night was so
warm and breezy—”

“Like before a snowstorm?” Mahrree gestured
to the window.

With an exhausted groan, Perrin pushed
himself up to prove her wrong. Instead, his mouth fell open. “If I
didn’t see it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe it! Good thing
The Dinner wasn’t today, instead of yesterday,” he said with a
relieved smile.

Then it vanished.

“Oh no. Mahrree, whatever kind of weather we
have in Idumea tends to be much worse in the north.”

Edge had been the furthest thing from her
mind, she realized with a new pang of guilt. Now it was right in
front of her.

“The plantings!” she breathed. “Edge’s crops!
The fruit blossoms! Oh, Perrin, if everything freezes now—”

He didn’t feel the need to put it mildly.
“Disaster.”

They scrambled out of bed and rushed to the
window for a clearer view. At least three inches of heavy wet snow
had fallen, and more was coming down. The trees, with their new
leaves, caught and held the snow expertly, weighing down the
branches. Many smaller ones had already snapped and the garden was
littered with broken limbs.

Stunned, Perrin and Mahrree sat on the bed
and stared.

“It might not freeze,” said Perrin, trying
the new approach of optimism. “It might just stay warm enough, and
the snow will be a good source of water.”

Mahrree closed her eyes. “How much do you
think Edge will get, if we have so much already here?”

Perrin shook his head. “All we can do is wait
and see. And pray.”

“The fort will tell us, right? How bad it
gets?”

“They better. In the meantime, I’m going to
the garrison to see about those reserves. Dr. Brisack’s little
experiment is just going to have to wait for another calamity.
We’re not going to be needing gold—we need food! ”

“What are you going to do?” she asked as he
started to put on his regular uniform, placed precisely on a chair
next to the bed where it was always waiting.

“Go through the approved channels, as much as
possible. I’ll work up some solid numbers first. We’re going to
need several Administrators’ approval to release the reserves, but
I can’t imagine how anyone would say no considering the mess that
we may be facing.”

“How much?” Mahrree asked, pulling her knees
up to her chest and shivering.

“I think we’ll need 12 wagonfuls. Less than
10% of their reserves,” he said as he finished buttoning his
jacket. “And I’m going to get it.”

“Any excuse to get out of the mansion this
morning.”

“Yep!”

---

Later that morning Mahrree stood at the
window in the vast eating room dully sorting forks. Some belonged
to the mansion, some to Mrs. Cush, and some to the garrison. She
saw only half of what she was doing, because most of the time she
watched out the thin clear glass for the snow to stop. She couldn’t
help but remember Perrin’s assessment: Edge usually got twice as
much as Idumea.

Maybe, for once, that wouldn’t be the
case—

“That Peto—for someone so scrawny, he’s
actually a good worker,” Joriana commented as she bustled into the
room with a small crate of clean knives, next to be sorted. “He
loaded nearly as many chairs as the soldiers. I told him he could
ride to the garrison and help unload them. Thought he might like
seeing the place. Someone will bring him back by midday meal. I can
always trust the soldiers.”