The Mansions of Idumea (Book 3 Forest at the Edge series) (29 page)

Oddly, he didn’t return it.

Unperturbed, she continued. “But in my
competitions, everyone’s pushing each other to improve. The goal is
to have each boy’s name on the list of those who are passing the
class. I bring cake when that happens,” she added. “Food’s a
marvelous motivator. This competition pushes all the boys to
succeed.”

“So everybody wins?” Relf asked. “That may
work for your class, but in everything else that seems a rather
poor system. You have to lower standards to let everyone win. Then
if you reward mediocrity, it breeds only more. We don’t lower
standards in the army. If a man can’t run fast enough, he’ll bring
more harm than help. The group is only as strong as its weakest
member, so no one better be weak. Not everyone makes the cut.
That’s competition!” He pounded the table in emphasis. In his frail
condition, that meant his fist barely bounced off the
tablecloth.

“I’m not advocating lowering standards,”
Mahrree told him. “Mine are even higher than the Department of
Instruction’s. And do you know why?
They
keep lowering the
standards, General, so that it their testing appears successful.
They
cheat to pass everyone.”

When she caught Perrin’s icy warning glare,
she quickly looked back to her father-in-law.

“But General,” Mahrree continued, “don’t you
give your new recruits time to improve before you make your cuts? A
lot simply don’t realize how strong they can be. I know Shem has
pushed many young men to the breaking point, only to discover they
could bend and rise to the standard. Everyone who reaches that
standard signs up. They ‘win,’ if being a part of the army can be
deemed as winning something,” she teased her father-in-law.

He scowled, but a hint of a smile was in his
eyes. “You have a point. But even then, there’s always one man
who’s the fastest.”

“And why’s that important?”

“So everyone knows who gets to be the
messenger,” Perrin said miserably, finally speaking. “Not much
glory in
that
.”

“Perrin was the fastest when he was
eighteen,” General Shin said proudly, leaning back onto a poufy
flowered cushion. “No one could beat him, not even some of the
older, stronger men. Then he spent that Weeding Season with the
Densals baling hay in Edge and came back three inches taller and
many more inches broader all around. Too many muscles to sprint the
fastest anymore.”

Mahrree was speechless.

Joriana squeezed her son’s still-muscular arm
admiringly. Perrin was turning red. He glanced at his wife and was
greeted by her stunned expression.

But Joriana began her boast. “Yet he was
still fast enough to beat
you
, my dear, when he came home.
And nearly every other man in the fort. Only two could outrun him.
I’m sure he’s still fast, and he’s even older than you were when
you raced him.”

Peto laughed. “You should’ve seen him last
year against Uncle Shem! That was the best Strongest Soldier Race
ever.”

“Peto . . .” Perrin said heavily.

“What happened? You know, I don’t seem to
remember you telling us about last year’s race,” Joriana said to
her son.

Since Perrin was glaring at Peto, Jaytsy took
up the story. “Shem finally beat him—by several minutes!”

“Shem’s ten years younger, too,” Perrin
reminded her. “And I’d just beaten him in a demonstration duel the
night before. Flattened and pinned him to the ground, in front of
all his new recruits.” He smiled thinly at the memory of it. “He
needed something to make him look good in front of his men again. I
had
to let him win, to get back their confidence in their
sergeant.”

“Ha!” Jaytsy exclaimed. “You lost because
you’re getting old. He couldn’t walk properly for the next few
days,” she told her grandparents. “He claimed he did something to
his back.”

“I did,” Perrin said. “I’d tripped on that
stupid little yapping thing Mrs. Tott carries around. It was hiding
in her alley when I was trying to clear the ditch.”

Jaytsy giggled. “She was grateful you found
him, though. She’d been looking for him for a while.”

“Yeah, but her son was disappointed you
didn’t fall on him,” Peto laughed. “He’d been hoping for a proper
dog for years. If that thing had been squashed under
you
, he
could’ve had his wish.”

Perrin watched his wife who still wore her
stunned expression. “You’ve nothing to add to this? I find that
hard to believe.”

“You were in Edge? When you were eighteen?”
Mahrree almost wailed.

For sixteen years she’d lived with the man,
and thought she knew everything about him. But now there were
surprises about him daily. No, hourly! “I thought your first time
in Edge was when we met.”

“Before he started Command School at the
university,” Relf interrupted her pouting, “he wanted to see the
world. Bit of Terryp the explorer in him, I suppose. So I sent him
to the
edge
of the world,” he chuckled. “Figured he’d be
pretty safe with Joriana’s aunt and uncle. They nearly proved me
wrong.”

“How so?” Mahrree was still baffled and a bit
put out that she never knew any of this.

Perrin sipped cider from his mug and didn’t
make eye contact with anyone, especially his wife staring pointedly
at him.

“They tried to turn him into a rector,” Relf
scoffed. “Can you imagine? Perrin as Rector Shin? Had him reading
The Writings every morning and discussing it every evening.”

“It was only because they could never have
children of their own, Relf. They always thought of Perrin as their
grandson,” Joriana told him. “And they took very good care of him
that season.”

“I wasn’t about to become a rector,” Perrin
said quietly, tearing his bread in half and watching it
distractedly. “But it was a good season. I learned some things
about myself. That’s why I wanted to go back when the opportunity
arose.”

“I don’t remember ever seeing you, and I was
at the Densals’ rectory every Holy Day!” Mahrree was on the verge
of frustrated tears as she tried to imagine what he would’ve looked
like at eighteen.

“Weren’t you already going to the university
in Mountseen?” he reminded her. “Started early?”

“Oh, yes,” she grumbled. “I missed you! We
could’ve found each other ten years earlier. I think I would’ve
enjoyed seeing the eighteen-year-old version of you.”

“I don’t think you would’ve,” said Perrin
tightly. “And I certainly wasn’t ready for you. Can we get back to
discussing The Dinner?”

Of course they couldn’t get back to
discussing The Dinner! Not when such an astonishing nugget of her
husband’s past had just been revealed. She was perplexed and
fascinated by his reticence. Why did he never tell her about this
before?

But being as guarded as he was, she knew he’d
never answer such a direct question. Instead she tried, “Well, I
didn’t like you entirely when I first met you, either.”

“I wasn’t the same person. You never would’ve
married me then.” He shifted uncomfortably and pushed his food
around his plate with his fork.

“And I suppose I was a little pushy at
eighteen as well,” Mahrree confessed, filling her fork.

“Says the most competitive woman in the
world,” her husband intoned, still fussing with his plate.

The room fell silent.

Someone may have whispered, “
Uh oh
. .
.”

Mahrree stopped, her fork in midair, and
glared at her husband who still didn’t meet her eyes. She put her
fork down with purposeful clatter and sat up straight in her
chair.

Relf leaned back into a fluffy pillow and
simpered. “Oh, good.” He put down this fork and folded his arms. “I
haven’t seen any action for a while. This should be excellent
dinner entertainment.”

Mahrree looked at Perrin, aghast. “
What
did you say about me?
”

“
What
?” Perrin mimicked and finally
looked up. “You! Listen to you. ‘I don’t like competition,’ ‘There
shouldn’t be one winner,’” he whined. “You, who can never bear to
lose an argument, arguing for no winners?” He rolled his eyes more
expertly than Jaytsy.

Mahrree’s mouth opened and shut several times
trying to find the right words to say. Instead she spluttered,
“Prove it!”

He jabbed his finger across the table at her.
“Tactic number one! You always want to be right, and when you know
you’re wrong, you shift the burden of proof to someone else. Did
that at our fourth debate with that stupid midday meal mess you
brought to the platform. Couldn’t prove it’d never ‘progress’ into
something smarter, so you forced me to prove you wrong. You could
never admit defeat. You
always
have to be right!”

Mahrree was so furious and surprised she
instinctively fought back. “Being right is
not
the same as
being a ‘winner’!”

Relf nodded to his wife. “Maybe we can put
them on a stage next week. Dinner and a show. Could be a new
tradition.”

Joriana fretfully shook her head at him.

Perrin shot his father a warning glance, and
Relf tossed it right back.

“There’s a difference between being right and
being the best,” Mahrree insisted. “I’m not trying to prove anyone
worse than me. I’m not taunting or putting down—”

“Are you sure?” Perrin snapped. “Isn’t being
overly opinionated just as bad as someone taunting? ‘My ideas are
better than yours?’”

“Overly opinionated? What’s wrong with having
opinions?” she said, her voice rising to the pitch of a trapped
cat. “What’s
more
frightening are people with no opinions at
all. ‘Oh, that sounds nice, let’s do it! Let’s end all debates. It
just feels good!’ What’s wrong with thinking?”

Relf turned to his wife again. “You did say
the administrator over education is coming to The Dinner, didn’t
you?” He smiled wickedly at the thought.

Perrin skipped glaring at his father and
instead launched into Mahrree. “But why do you have to express that
opinion everywhere, at every time, and in every situation? You
could cause trouble!”

Mahrree threw her hands in the air. “But if
it’s the truth, Perrin, there’s more trouble in
not
expressing it! You know that. That’s why we’re here. To find the
truth and live it, no matter what!”

“Gadiman!” Relf snapped his fingers.
“
That’s
who we should invite. Make this dinner truly
memorable, except that man never leaves his office.”

Joriana smacked him lightly on the arm.

“But you can’t always know the truth,” Perrin
countered loudly. “Some things are just never revealed. You have to
deal with what you’re given, and stop fighting it! Stop wishing for
what you can’t have!”

Mahrree shook her head in confusion, not sure
how that last sentence fit their argument, but also knowing too
well that there was a time she faced the truth and shrank away from
it.

But that was years ago, and a different
situation and, well, what happens when people stop wishing for the
truth? She hadn’t given up completely finding it. She just . . .
was putting it off for the right day.

But this argument wasn’t about her; something
was going on with her husband. She hadn’t seen him this
confrontational in years, as if he’d regressed to the duplicitous
captain she knew long ago. She couldn’t imagine why, but his
behavior enraged her.

“You do the best you can, but if you stop
fighting, the truth won’t win!” she yelled. “If you give up
completely, who wins? Not the Creator or His will. So whose will
are
you
fighting for, Lieutenant Colonel?”

They stared across the table at each other, a
feeling of betrayal hitting both of them at the same time like icy
water.

No one had been eating for the past five
minutes. Jaytsy and Peto watched their parents anxiously, their
eyes shifting back and forth, hoping one of them would end it
somehow.

Joriana bit her lower lip in worry, but Relf
still smirked, his eyes smoldering in amusement.

Perrin shook his head slowly, his expression
softening as he stared at his wife. “How’d we get here?” he
whispered.

Mahrree’s eyes filled with tears. “I don’t
know,” she whispered back.

“We’ll finish this later,” Perrin said
quietly.

Mahrree nodded.

“I think we should talk about the arena
again,” Peto suggested in a timid voice.

Perrin smiled at his son. “Absolutely!”

Mahrree sniffed appreciatively.

Jaytsy released a sigh of relief.

Relf shook his head. “That’s too bad. Great
entertainment. I guess we’ll have to have that ridiculous dancing
instead of your debate.”

Mahrree wiped away a tear. “Dancing?
When?”

Joriana looked up at the ceiling as if she
was eating with idiots. “After The Dinner! Tradition? Honestly, do
I have to spell everything out? That’s why fifteen is so
important—the age when girls can begin dancing! Jaytsy’s
dress?”

Couples dancing had yet to gain popularity in
Edge, and that was fine with Mahrree. They had dancing, but it was
watching an individual or a group moving to music, not couples
holding each other.

But in Idumea couples dancing had been around
for over twenty years and was the mainstay of every elegant event.
Since Edge wasn’t elegant in any stretch of the imagination,
couples dancing didn’t fit in there either.

Mahrree began to fume again to realize she’d
been misled by her mother-in-law. Not once during that entire day
had she said the word “dance,” and now Mahrree knew why.

She looked at her husband, suddenly feeling
something they could be united in again.

“No!” they declared together.

“Perrin Shin!” his mother said loudly. “This
girl—” she pointed to Jaytsy whose eyebrows furrowed in worry,
“—has every right to dance at her grandmother’s house the day after
her birthday. It’s tradition!”