The Mansions of Idumea (Book 3 Forest at the Edge series) (67 page)

Perrin came over to the coach and smiled
wearily. “No sign of danger anywhere. I think we’re going to be
fine the rest of the way home.”

“Good,” Mahrree said. “Then come sit with us.
Perrin, you look terrible. I don’t know when I’ve ever seen you so
tired.”

“Don’t tempt me, woman!” he said with a
twinkle in his eyes. “I have other plans. I expect to sleep soundly
in my bed this evening. I don’t want any little coach naps to
interfere with that. Just a little further to Mountseen and then
home.”

Peto and Jaytsy were fully awake by now.

“Home before dinner?” Peto asked.

“I expect so.”

Jaytsy shook her head. “Seems so strange to
be back already. Feels like we’ve been gone a lifetime.”

Mahrree agreed it felt strange. She also
still felt guilty for eating so well while her mother and their
friends had been suffering. She hoped they wouldn’t resent the
amount of food she pulled out of the coach, and she worried how she
would divide it appropriately.

From outside of Mountseen, they saw
distinctly the mountains that bordered their home. The distant
bluish-gray bumps occasionally distinguishable in between the trees
in Idumea were now tall, rock-covered barriers dominating the
landscape over the orchards and pines of Mountseen. Ever since her
children were young Mahrree had been looking at the mysterious
landscape in a different way. They were her home.

“I never noticed that the mountains are
pretty,” Jaytsy said as she craned her head out the window to see
them fully. “I don’t know that I’ve ever really looked at them
before.”

“No one really does, I think,” Mahrree said.
“I’ve never heard anyone call them pretty, but I’m glad you think
they are, Jaytsy. For as long as I can remember people in Edge
always looked toward Idumea. Even houses that face south cost a
little more than houses facing the mountains.”

“I guess I can see the appeal of Idumea, but
I also rather like the mountains,” Peto mused. “Kind of feel
protective, in a way. In Idumea the land is so flat and it just
goes on forever.”

Mahrree smiled that her second child also
appreciated the terrain. “I don’t care for the flat land, either,”
she said. “I must admit, I found it disturbing that in some places
you didn’t know where one village started and another ended. I like
the borders of the mountains,” she decided, looking out the window.
“We’ve feared the mountains for so long we’ve failed to appreciate
their power. I kind of wished our house faced the mountains, now
that I think about it.”

“We can just get Father to turn it around for
your anniversary next season, Mother,” Peto said confidently. “I’m
sure it wouldn’t be a problem.”

At the last changing station just beyond
Mountseen, Perrin came up to them again. “Just got word that the
first wagons have already reached Edge. They’ve set up in the
village center. Karna has a doling system established. I have a
feeling I’m about to lose him,” he said dismally. “He’ll make a
great commander at another fort. So, are we ready to go home?”

“Yes!” his family chorused at him.

When they finally pulled into Edge that
afternoon it seemed every citizen was packed into the village
greens around the amphitheater and arena, but they eagerly made way
for the last ten long wagons and the coach.

Mahrree squirmed, worried how their friends
would react. She couldn’t help but notice the state of the
villagers’ clothes: filthy, torn, and in some cases still only
bedclothes. That was all they had left. With many houses still
inaccessible and so many shops gone, the beautiful gowns in the
crate across from her would be the only clothing some women would
have, as inappropriately frilly and ridiculously silky as they
were.

She felt ashamed of the new pale blue linen
dress she wore under her cloak. How utterly inadequate for doing
any useful work! At least her dress and cloak were sufficiently
rumpled and a bit blood splattered.

To Mahrree’s surprise, the coach received a
heroes’ welcome, as did each wagon. By the time the coach rambled
in, to great amounts of cheering, it had to circle the other wagons
to find a place to stop, which only prolonged the welcome.

“We can’t leave the coach,” Mahrree murmured
to her children as they heard the shouts of welcome and calls of
gratitude. “This is so embarrassing.”

Jaytsy nodded and covered her cheeks with her
hands.

“Don’t worry, Mother,” Peto grinned. “They’re
all trying to get to Father.”

His family watched from the coach windows as
Perrin dismounted from his foamy horse and attempted to make his
way to the doling tables, only to be detained by hundreds of Edgers
trying to shake his hand or slap him on the back. He smiled—almost
sheepishly, Mahrree thought—at the attention.

Maybe his response was because Edgers
regarded him with something akin to adulation, and Mahrree couldn’t
decide who wanted him more: Idumea or Edge. She never before
appreciated just how in demand her husband really was. Nor had she
realized how wholly inadequate she was for him, in the city
and
their village.

Gamely he made his way through the throng,
nodding here, shaking a hand there. His dark eyes were baggy and
red, his riding jacket stained with dried blood, his cap askew, and
his gait stumbling with fatigue; clear demonstration of what he’d
gone through that night for his village.

But when Mahrree saw a young father
unabashedly embrace Perrin, she knew she had her answer. While
Idumea admired him, Edge loved him.

The coach door yanked open and there stood
Shem, grinning. “Ever coming out or are you on your way back to the
mansions of Idumea?”

“Uncle Shem!” Jaytsy squealed. “I missed
you,” and she leaped into his arms.

“Wow, this is quite a ‘Good to see you.’” He
laughed as he set her down on the snowy ground. “Better make sure
no other soldiers notice and think they can get in line to be next,
Jayts.”

He turned only to find Peto holding out
pretend skirts like his sister. “Uncle Shem!” he did his best to
imitate his sister’s squeal and flopped into Shem’s arms.

Shem chuckled and dropped him unceremoniously
on the snow. Jaytsy reached over her prone brother to take the
basket of apples from her mother and held it up for Shem.

He waved away the offer. “Take it right over
to the doling tables, Jaytsy. I’m fine.”

Peto got up, brushing the wet and heavy snow
off of his jacket. “It’s deep here, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Mahrree sighed, looking out the door
at the nearby tree branches weighed down by snow. “Are the blossoms
dead?” she asked Shem in a low voice.

Shem nodded somberly. “I’d guess at least
two-thirds are gone. We’ll know more by tomorrow when the snow’s
melted a bit. There was a hard freeze last night, too, so the early
crops . . .” He shrugged instead of finishing his sentence.

Mahrree nodded that she understood his
unspoken worries. Cheers rose up again from the crowd. Apparently
Perrin was saying something, but Mahrree couldn’t make it out. She
chuckled and Shem grinned at the crowd.

Then he turned back to her. “Mahrree, don’t
you want to get out? Are you all right?”

She nodded, but she wasn’t all right. How
could she face her friends and village wearing her new dress and
knowing that just two days ago she feasted at the grandest dinner
in the world? So she only said, “I’m just a little tired,
Shem.”

“On closer inspection, you don’t look
completely well,” he said, and Mahrree wasn’t surprised that he
noticed. Shem noticed everything. He climbed into the coach and was
about to sit across from her until he saw the crate on the other
bench. Instead he sat gingerly next to her and rubbed at a smudge
on her cloak. “Mahrree, is this blood?”

She sighed.

His eyes grew wide. “Whose?”

“Not mine or the children’s,” she chuckled
sadly. “Someone Perrin dispatched . . . it just splattered,” she
gestured lamely to the other stains on her gray cloak.

“Oh, Mahrree.” Shem squeezed her hand. “We’ve
been hearing all kinds of stories about the attack, but I didn’t
realize you witnessed it.”

“Witnessed it? I drove the coach!” she
laughed miserably. “While Perrin was on top!” She pretended to
slash an imaginary sword before dropping her hand. “It was a
horrible night, Shem. I think it’s all just starting to catch up to
me.” She knew this wasn’t the best time, but she couldn’t stop the
tears that slipped disobediently down her face.

“Oh, Mahrree,” Shem repeated, putting a
strong arm around her.

She rested her head against his shoulder,
grateful for a brother who could spend a few minutes comforting his
overemotional sister. She just needed a shoulder to cry on.

“I’m so sorry, Mahrree. I feel
responsible—”

“Why?” she asked. “Are you a Guarder?”

Shem chuckled with her.

“Well Shem,” she sniffed back her tears and
patted him on the knee, “since we haven’t had you over for a proper
dinner in weeks now, you’re coming home with us tonight to help us
finish off some of these leftovers, and to tell us everything
that’s been happening.”

“Good idea. Now let’s get you out of here.”
He moved as if to stand up, but Mahrree hung on his arm.

“I can’t go out there, Shem,” she whispered,
wiping her face. “Not like this.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you realize how we’ve
lived
the
past two weeks?” she nearly wailed. “In a mansion!”

“Well, Grandpy did mention—” he started.

“With silk sheets!”

“Wouldn’t those be rather slipper—?”

“And do you have any idea how well we
ate?”

“Well, I imagine that—”

“A Harvest Day meal! Every day! I’ve
gained
weight while everyone here has been losing it!”

“Mahrree,” he chuckled and patted her hand
that gripped his arm, “no one’s going to blame you for—”

“I can’t face them. I feel so guilty!”

“Then just don’t tell them how you lived,”
Shem suggested.

“What, lie to my village?” Mahrree was
shocked.

Shem shrugged. “Sometimes . . . sometimes you
have to hide the truth to spare those you love. If they knew
everything, it would ruin . . .
everything
. It’s not
dishonest, exactly,” he tried to explain as Mahrree frowned at him.
“It’s . . . preserving feelings. Protecting people. They don’t
need
to know the truth, do they?”

“Hmm,” she considered that.

“Besides,” Shem continued, “listen to them
out there. Edge isn’t angry; they’re astonished. Look—they’re even
hugging Peto. We didn’t expect Perrin could do anything as grand as
this. A few hours ago Brillen, Grandpy and I set up a table over
there in the middle of the greens and wondered why. A few villagers
came by, asking what we were doing, and we felt rather foolish that
we didn’t know what to tell them. Until the first group of wagons
came. Mahrree, all of us were overcome to see how much grain they
brought, and I’ll be honest: there were a few tears shed.”

Mahrree chuckled quietly. “Well Shem, I’ve
seen you tear up on quite a few occasions—”

“It wasn’t me,” Shem chuckled back. “It was
Grandpy Neeks. ‘Shin did it!’ was all he could say. ‘Shin did
it!’”

Mahrree grinned.

“So come on,” Shem nudged her shoulder.
“Let’s get you out there, and—”

A shadow darkened the doorway. “Mrs. Shin?”
Grandpy Neeks said, climbing up the steps. “Is everything all right
in here?”

Mahrree was startled by the severity of his
tone, and the fact that he was glaring at Shem and not addressing
her.

Shem pulled his arm out of Mahrree’s
grip.

“Fine, Grandpy,” she smiled, suspecting that
Grandpy feared Shem was revealing the fact that the old sergeant
major was seen crying earlier. “Zenos is just trying to convince me
that it’s safe to leave the coach.”

Grandpy shifted his gaze to her. “Are you
sure, ma’am? Anything I can do to help you? Because Mrs. Peto has
been asking—”

“My mother!” Mahrree shouted. In her
self-absorption she’d nearly forgotten about her mother.

“—but she unfortunately planted herself on
the other side of the greens and asked me to find a way to get you
over to her—”

“Of course! Yes!” Mahrree eagerly took his
hand to get down the steps.

Behind her, Mahrree heard Shem chuckle,
“Well, that got her out,” and he whistled over a few soldiers to
help unload the food stuffed in the coach.

Mahrree followed Neeks through Edgers, who
caught and hugged almost as frequently as they did her husband. She
spotted, over by the doling table, Poe Hili: black eye, banged up,
bandaged, and beaming. A couple of privates had friendly arms
around him and villagers patted him on the back as they passed.
They all knew who Poe was, and they now knew what he was willing to
do to redeem himself.

Poe’s life would never be the same, Mahrree
thought. Good.

It wasn’t until early that evening—after
Mahrree assured Hycymum again and again that they were fine, and
after all of the food had been distributed and delivered by
soldiers to those who were unable to leave their homes—that the
Shins finally headed back to their house. Hycymum rode with them,
touching every inch she could have the “magnificent army
coach!”

Mahrree couldn’t wait to finally be rid of
it.

Shem and Perrin rode behind the coach,
catching up on the past two weeks, while Mahrree and the children
watched the houses as they went by. To see so much that had been
rebuilt was gratifying. But to see how much rubble and destruction
remained was discouraging.

Mahrree had forgotten that Shem had fixed up
their house while they were away. She wasn’t even looking toward it
when Jaytsy squealed, “It’s done!”

As the coach swayed to a stop, Jaytsy and
Peto pushed each other to be the first ones out and into the house.
Mahrree stepped out cautiously and looked up, her mouth dropping
open. There was no way Perrin could hit his head on the ceiling
again, unless he jumped off the bed.