The Mansions of Idumea (Book 3 Forest at the Edge series) (62 page)

Joriana clapped her hands happily and Mahrree
and Perrin burst into big smiles, which they aimed at Poe, who
closed his eyes in relief.

The general cleared his throat. “You will
have twenty teams of horses ready to relieve the horses coming, as
well as four additional horses for riders. You will do all in your
power to conscript these teams, using force if necessary. Officers
and soldiers from Edge will see to it personally that the horses
are returned within three days to their proper owners. You will do
nothing to impede this messenger from his progress, and will
provide him with whatever means of travel he requires. Also be
prepared to avoid being deceived. There is increased Guarder
activity at this time, and later messengers may try to convince you
that the caravan is illegal—’”

Mahrree was tempted to gasp but felt strongly
that she should make no sound. No one did, but she noticed her
children shifting anxiously.

“‘Counterfeit messengers may even claim they
are from the Administrators. But be assured that the stamp below
from the High General of Idumea guarantees the legality of this
caravan. Do all in your power to detain any counterfeit messengers
until soldiers can retrieve them.’”

The general looked at the stunned faces in
front of him.

“Riplak, you’ll present this message at each
fort and changing post, take a new horse—I don’t care if the
messenger servers complain; they answer to me as well as the
Administrators—then move on to the next until you reach the fort in
Edge. But try to use fort horses as much as possible, beginning
with Pools. Many of the messenger posts recently experienced horse
thefts and are likely a bit jittery.”

Poe remained stoic and immovable, but Perrin
smirked.

“Present this message to those in the command
tower in Edge,” Relf continued to Riplak, “to let them know that
aid is on the way, and that they should be prepared for any kind of
eventuality. Any questions?”

“Just one, sir,” he said taking the message
from the general’s hand. “May I start with the new bay from the
Stables at Pools? He’s the fastest horse.”

“Of course,” the general smiled. “Thank you,
Riplak. And please be careful. Not a word to anyone. I don’t want
you hurt.”

“I appreciate that, sir.” Riplak folded the
message quickly, shoved it in his shirt pocket under his jacket,
then bounded out of the study.

“Father—”

Relf held up his hand to stop Perrin,
listening for Riplak’s progress. Perrin stared hard at his father,
but he wouldn’t look at his son. Instead he pretended to read the
calculations Perrin had made on another piece of paper. Joriana
wrung her hands, and Poe kept his eyes closed, most likely asleep
on his feet.

They heard the lieutenant exit through the
front doors, and a moment later his horse left at a fast
gallop.

“Father, would you
now
mind explaining
that bit about the Guarder activity?” Perrin said quietly.

General Shin looked at each one of them with
unusual sadness in his eyes. “You leave tonight. In one hour.”

Each Shin gasped. Poe’s eyes popped open.

“I’ve already sent a messenger to the
garrison. Your twenty wagons should be hitched up in the next few
minutes. They’ll be wanting these notes,” he held up Perrin’s
calculations. “I thought your Private Hili would bring it over
there.”

“Yes sir!” Poe stepped up to take the page,
but the general held on to it.

“In a moment; I’m not finished yet. I just
want all of you to know the importance of leaving as soon as
possible.”

“Because you got nowhere with the Chairman,
did you?” Perrin asked in a dead tone.

Relf stiffened at the implication. “I’m the
High General of Idumea, Colonel Shin! I can order whatever I want.
I can choose to make the most important decision of my career
without anyone’s approval. Is that clear?”

Perrin bit his lower lip, but his jaw still
trembled as he regarded his father with renewed pride. “Absolutely,
General!”

Relf’s stance softened a bit, and he
pretended to toss something on his desk. “That gesture would be a
lot more impressive if I still had the key to the reserve to throw
down in dramatic emphasis, but I already sent it to the garrison
with a messenger.”

Joriana was growing pale. “Relf, what does
this all mean?”

Relf hobbled around his desk to his wife. “It
means that I’ve ordered the reserves to be released without anyone
else’s permission. There’s no real Guarder threat, but the threat
of Nicko finding out and trying to stop us.”

Mahrree squirmed anxiously and gripped the
arms of her children on either side of her, on the pretense of
reassuring them.

“But I refuse to wait weeks for the
Administrators to make a decision!” Relf declared. “People’s lives
are more important than living like a king.” He glanced over at
Private Hili, who gulped. “I’m convinced the Creator never intended
anyone to live like a king. He created all of us equal. We’re to
provide relief with the excess He has given us.” Relf put a hand on
his wife’s arm. His tone was uncharacteristically gentle when he
said, “You and I will just live with the consequences.”

Joriana’s chin began to wobble. “Of course,
of course.” She turned to her family. “You come back, as soon as
you can. I can’t bear the thought of living in this big empty house
without you!”

Mahrree couldn’t fight the tears anymore. “Of
course we’ll be back. Next season, even!”

Everyone in the room knew it was a lie, but
it felt good to hear it anyway.

“Wasting time,” the general said in a shaky
voice. “Get packing. The fort coach is getting ready as we speak.
You women and Peto get it loaded up. Perrin, you and I and Hili
will take my carriage to the garrison. I want to see to this
personally.”

Peto’s sudden movement caught everyone off
guard. He rushed his grandfather, forgetting about his mending
ribs, and caught him in a big hug.

Relf wrapped his arms around him, as much for
the support as for the embrace. “Glad you came, boy.”

Peto nodded into his grandfather’s chest.
Jaytsy turned to her grandmother and hugged her as well. The two of
them began to sob so loudly Mahrree started to chuckle through her
tears.

Perrin caught Mahrree’s eye. “We’ll meet you
at the garrison.” He glanced around the study as if trying to
memorize the room. His gaze lingered on the large portrait of High
General Pere Shin, and his shoulders slumped.

Mahrree looked at her grandfather-in-law as
well, his stern eyes still twinkling as they did the first morning.
It was the right decision to leave with the reserves, he seemed to
be saying. Sometimes only one man can go over the wall . . .

. . . or release the stores.

Pere Shin would be proud of his son.

Perrin turned to Mahrree. “Don’t forget
anything, all right? All my clothes should be in the wardrobe.
Let’s go, Father. Peto, you can finish good-byes at the
garrison.”

Peto nodded and wiped away a tear. His
grandfather gripped Peto’s head and kissed him quickly on the
forehead, then hobble-marched out of the room with Perrin and
Hili.

---

“You’re absolutely sure about this?” Gadiman
asked the lieutenant who stood in his dark doorway.

“By the oaths, sir, yes.”

Gadiman clenched his teeth, made a fist, and
huffed. “Yes! Now go—we don’t want anyone to miss you. And get out
of my way! I have a visit of my own to make.”

Gadiman snatched his overcoat from the hook
and put it on as he barreled out the back door.

Finally!

His chance to redeem himself was laid right
at his doorstep. Thirteen years ago his plan to use two lieutenants
to assassinate the High General and Joriana Shin at the fort of
Edge had gone terribly wrong; there was a fool in his foolproof
plan. The two lieutenants were found dead at door of the guest
bedroom at the fort, their long knives protruding from their
bodies, and Relf and Joriana Shin completely unharmed.

Brisack said the officers killed each other,
but the doctor had doctored their files himself. It was the cover
story, but what truth was it covering? Gadiman had never been able
to find out. He always suspected the problem was that Lieutenant
Heth simply wasn’t ready, but Mal was sure he was.

It would be his hunger that would make him
succeed, Mal had insisted. The former Sonoforen—the
Son of
Oren
; Gadiman never got that until just now—while he wanted to
succeed, either wasn’t “hungry” enough or clever enough to pull it
off.

Desire rarely equates ability, yet
simple-minded folks thought all they needed was something inane
like believing in themselves to get whatever they wanted. But when,
in all the history of the world, had that occurred except in
made-up stories?

It was hard work and patience that
accomplished great things, at just the right moment. And someone,
years ago, had seen the “right moment” and thwarted Gadiman’s
well-planned assassination.

Gadiman shook his head as he jogged along in
the cold night. For so many years his failure had kept him from
that inner circle in Mal’s library. So close he’d come to moving
beyond being their errand man to becoming a strategist—

Then Mal’s heart gave him problems. Brisack
said it was caused by the failure in Edge, but Gadiman knew it was
just another story.

Then they stopped meeting so frequently, and
the orders for Gadiman tapered off to nothing. But he kept waiting,
and planning, and thinking.

Then, only weeks ago, Mal invited him to his
office to tell him he was bored and wanted to be entertained again.
The Guarders were about to return.

It didn’t take Gadiman long to make all the
connections again. In fact, there seemed to be even more willing to
renew the oaths. Several brought their sons, too. They were tired
of thieving to support themselves, and wanted the direction that
had come in the beginning, along with the easy gold.

It was going to be better this time, Gadiman
knew. No more of this petty thieving nonsense, oh no. Everyone was
hungry, and they could earn their gold the honorable way through
properly planned raids and murders.

And, as proof that he was ready for the inner
circle, tonight Gadiman had the perfect plan. There wasn’t any time
for Mal and his library mouse to gab endlessly about what to do. By
the time they finally came up with something, Gadiman would already
be standing at the door, ready to show them the most spectacular
success they’d seen in years.

They once wanted Perrin Shin brought to his
knees. Gadiman would present him writhing on the floor.

---

The next hour was a blur.

Mahrree knew all that she had to grab, but
couldn’t seem to get a hold of any of it. As hastily as they came,
they were more hastily leaving. She tried to shake off the
heaviness of this parting. The Shins had visited them dozens of
times before, but never had a visit been so full of unexpected
drama, from start to finish. It shouldn’t have made a difference
how they separated today, but somehow it did. The Shins were
scheduled to visit them in Edge during Weeding Season. Perhaps it
was the worry of what could happen until then that seemed to
cripple Mahrree.

As she fumbled to pack her husband’s uniforms
and work clothes she smiled that maybe by Weeding Season both
officers would be staring at a field of cattle, now their own,
trying to figure out how to be ranchers. She loved the idea of
father and son and grandson trying to corral the cows that ran in
terror from Perrin.

There were so many options, she assured
herself as she shoved her new dresses into the bag, but purposely
left the gray silk gown in the wardrobe. It’d be difficult to get
all their new things to fit as it was.

The men could rebuild houses and the
collapsed school. Cultivate the catapult fields. Go into business
with Poe Hili and become private guards for the Edge of Idumea
housing community. Someone needed to man the gates they just put
in. Who better than the man who created the need for the gates, and
the man who—usually—stopped him? Relf could do the paperwork.

Mahrree laid Perrin’s dress uniform on top
and ran her hand over the medals and ribbons. Silly little
decorations. Chasing cows and thieves were much better
vocations.

Before she had time to wonder what to do with
the rest of her new clothes, Joriana came to the door, pushing a
huge crate filled with dresses.

“Add anything you don’t really like to the
pile, dear. That purple one doesn’t flatter your eye color,” she
huffed, a few stray hairs dangling out of her perfect bun. “Surely
someone in Edge can use these things. Some of these I haven’t
touched in years. Seems a waste doesn’t it? Clothes should be
worn.” Tears filled her eyes again and she rushed out of Mahrree’s
room before she could respond.

There could be a place for her as well in
Edge, Mahrree decided as she tossed the rest of her clothing into
the crate. Someone needed to teach Edgers how to dance. Joriana
could be as resourceful as Kuman.

A thought sprung into Mahrree’s mind, and she
nearly laughed out loud. Hycymum could sew, and these two
grandmothers could make a wonderful dress shop, as long as they
didn’t drive each other insane with their ideas of what was
elegant. Hycymum always thought everything should be accented with
a flower or a stylized insect that looked ‘charming.’ Joriana
thought embellishments should consist of jewels and gold. Mahrree
combined the two in her mind and shuddered at the thought of
jewelry cockroaches.

Still, it had potential.

---

Perrin clapped a hand on Private Hili’s
shoulder as they stood outside in the growing dark and watched the
hitching of the forty horses to the twenty wagons. Perrin only
wished it wasn’t by torchlight. So many animals, wagons, and men
working together would have been a grand sight for Poe to witness.
High General Shin was in the Reserve Storehouse nearby,
recommending how to load the goods for the best balance of
weight.