The Mansions of Idumea (Book 3 Forest at the Edge series) (45 page)

“Now, are we studying them to see how to
encourage this kind of thinking, or how to destroy it?”

Brisack swallowed, knowing the correct answer
but unwilling to state it. “There’s something that he said,” he
mentioned, dreading to utter it. “About the Creator.”

Mal chuckled coldly. “Yes, I think Relf is a
bit of a secret Writings Wretch himself. It’s rare to find any of
them left among the so-called intelligent, but I suppose there’s
one or two—”

“
It’s what Perrin said
,” Brisack said
more firmly. “He distinctly believes the Creator made all people
equal.”

Mal glared. “I told you
years ago
that
Shin believes in a Creator. And you dismissed that
years
ago
, and you were correct to do so, I reluctantly concede. The
beliefs in the Creator are dying, along with their old rectors.
There’s only one congregation left in Idumea, and no one younger
than sixty attends. You’re outdated in your concern—”

“Yes, but there’s real potential—”

Mal rolled his eyes. “Potential? The Creator
is their . . . their manifestation of Nature. Since so few still
believe, I hardly see how this so-called Creator that brings
imaginary comfort is a threat to us. If he were real, he would have
shown himself by now. He’d be head of the Administrators, instead
of me!” Mal worked himself deeper into his large cushioned chair as
if to plant himself there.

“But it could be a threat,” Brisack said in a
low voice. “The belief in a creator. Remember what Shin said about
loyalty?”

Mal squinted, a splinter of his mocking
demeanor falling away to see his companion so concerned. “Something
about feeling loyalty to those who gave you something.”

“‘The best way to secure loyalty is to feel a
sense of duty
to your benefactors.’” Brisack recited. “I
memorized the words because they struck me so oddly. And now I know
why. His loyalty isn’t necessarily to us
,
Nicko; his sense
of duty is to his Creator.”

Mal scoffed, but only half-heartedly. “So
what? If he believes in his imaginary friend—”

“Nicko, I’ve talked to boys who burned down
barns because their ‘imaginary friends’ told them to,” the doctor
said levelly. “I’ve treated girls with knife slashes on their arms
because their ‘imaginary friends’ told them they were
worthless.”

“Those are examples of children—”

“—proving that I
do
know something
about family life! Thoughts that begin in childhood frequently
continue into adulthood. Don’t underestimate the power of what the
mind believes. What if Perrin believes his Creator wants him to do
something contrary to what we decree? If his sense of duty lies
elsewhere?”

Mal scoffed again, out of habit. “Oh,
really
, Doctor. What would he possibly dare to do?” He
chuckled in a manner that struck Doctor Brisack as unnatural and
uncharacteristically worried.

“Right now? I fear nothing might be beyond
the daring of Perrin Shin.”

Chapter 14
~
“The enlisted men are teaching the brassy a thing or
two.”

T
he Shin family
stepped out of the mansion’s coach in Pools and stared at the long
building before them. Or rather, they stared at the long line of
people waiting to get
into
that building.

Perrin let out a low whistle as the coach
drove off to the livery stables nearby. “They said Gizzada was
successful, but this?” He gestured feebly, and his family nodded in
astonishment.

It wasn’t the first thing Mahrree marveled at
that evening. After two dreadful days of Dinner preparation,
Joriana surprised them with the suggestion that it was time for the
family to be Seen. And the best place to be Seen was at Gizzada’s
restaurant in Pools.

“Seen . . . doing what, eating?” Perrin had
asked, confused. He was initially pleased with the idea of visiting
his former staff sergeant’s place, until he saw just how excited
his mother was about it.

“Gizzada’s is the talk of the whole city! And
of Pools! And Orchards, and anywhere within thirty miles! Only the
best and brightest can afford to go there.”

“Well, that excludes us,” Peto sounded
disappointed. “One look at us, and they’ll—”

“Oh, no,” Joriana said firmly, “you’ll get
in. You’ll dress up in that shirt I bought you today, young man.
Jaytsy and your mother in their new best dresses, Perrin in his
uniform, all of you in our coach—you’ll be Seen.”

“I’m rather surprised,” Mahrree had said,
“that Gizzada’s sandwiches are so popular. I mean yes, there’s
nothing in the world quite like them, but—”

“Sandwiches? Gizzada doesn’t do
sandwiches
, Mahrree,” Joriana hooted. “He does quizeen.
Rather like some of what your mother tries, but . . . bigger.
You’ll see. It’s amazing! And here,” she slipped something into
Perrin’s hand.

His eyes bulged. “A full gold slip?”

“It’s a bit pricey, but well worth it.
Dinner’s on me. Go now. Enjoy!”

With shared looks of confusion, they went. An
hour’s drive later they arrived on a busy road in Pools, and
wondered if the same tubby man they knew in Edge years ago really
was attached to such a place as this. This was nothing like the Inn
at Edge, where Hycymum and another girl whipped up meals and
desserts for travelers or villagers in the mood for something
different.

First, the Inn at Edge didn’t have trees and
flowers and vines all over the building, as if a controlled
explosion of Nature had been aimed directly at it.

Nor did the Inn at Edge have tables and
chairs
outside
the building where guests in silks and fine
woolens and wraps of fur sat to wait for an opening inside. In
fact, nothing in Edge had chairs and tables quite like these.
Apparently some blacksmiths decided horse shoes weren’t interesting
enough, and instead twisted iron into curious shapes that bordered
on works of art that people then rudely sat upon or leaned against.
Fires in large round pots were artfully placed around the area to
warm those feeling the evening chill, and to illuminate the
vegetation that adorned the simple yet grand stone and planked
structure.

Above the wide doorway was a painted board
with the word
Gizzada’s
wrought in more black twisted iron,
and illuminated by black torches on either side. Standing before
the door was a rather burly man dressed in a crisp white tunic and
black trousers. He stood almost as if at attention, and stiffly
opened the door as guests went in and out. He opened it now for an
older man also similarly dressed who held a small board and
announced in a sufficiently bored tone, “Lansing, party of four.
James, party of two.”

Six people immediately rose and strode
eagerly but elegantly to the opened doors, where a third man led
them away.

Peto scowled. “Eating with any of them would
not be a party, I’m sure.”

“This is crazy,” Perrin murmured, and headed
for the still-open door, his family behind him. “Excuse me,” he
said to the older man, “Exactly how long a wait for dinner?”

Several people in earshot sniggered at the
Shins, and someone said derisively, “Locals.”

Another voice near a fire said,
“Careful—brass buttons,” and Mahrree glanced over to see several
people taking in her husband’s jacket. Suddenly, he and his “party”
were worthy to stand among them. The whisper of “brass buttons”
filtered down none-too-subtly among the hungry hopefuls, while
Perrin’s ears went red.

“Oh, brother,” Jaytsy murmured in
disgust.

“You said it, sister,” Peto murmured
back.

Mahrree pursed her lips to keep from smiling,
but Perrin was still waiting for an answer.

The man at the door looked him up and down.
“Colonel, is it? You look vaguely familiar. You’re not the younger
Shin, are you?”

Perrin sighed loudly as another murmur of
“
Could be the younger Shin,
” traveled along the
fancy-dressed waiting.

“Does it matter?” Perrin asked.

“It does if you want to eat in an hour, or in
three,” the man shrugged.

“An hour?” Peto wailed softly. Mahrree
elbowed him.

Perrin glanced at the line of Idumea’s elite
and saw all of them watching him back. “Look,” he said quietly to
the man at the door, “I’m an old friend of Gizzada’s, and we only
wanted to say hi—”

“
Mr. Sheff
Gizzada has many friends,”
the older man intoned, and he held out his hand.

Perrin frowned at it. “Something wrong with
your hand—Oh, wait. Now I remember.” He fumbled around in his
trousers’ pocket.

“Sheff?” Peto murmured to Jaytsy. “That’s his
first name? I thought it was Zadda.”

“Seriously?” Jaytsy whispered back. “You
think his parents named him Zadda Gizzada? Zadda was the name
we
gave him when we were little. You’ve got to be the
dumbest—Ow!”

Mahrree’s boot heel came down on her
daughter’s toes as Perrin fished out a slip of silver and dropped
it into the man’s hand.

“Wait, you have to
bribe
people
to—Ow!” Peto’s question was abruptly stopped, again by Mahrree’s
boot, which was getting quite the workout on her children’s
feet.

The man at the door looked down at the silver
on his palm. “Not
much
of a friend of Mr. Sheff’s, I
see.”

Perrin’s mouth dropped open and Mahrree was
about to protest when a booming voice from behind the man surprised
them all.

“My Little Ones! Are not so little! I heard
you came to Idumea, but I can’t believe you’re here!”

Through the door burst an enormously round
man the color of rich brown soil, with flushed dark red cheeks and
a massive grin. His arms were held out wide as he plowed
unceremoniously over his employees stationed at the door.

“It’s the Shins!” Gizzada bellowed, and he
caught Perrin and Mahrree in a huge hug. “And that just can NOT be
my little Jaytsy and Peto!”

Perrin and Mahrree would have laughed if
Gizzada hadn’t been squeezing the breath out of them. But Jaytsy
and Peto howled at the former soldier who always had a treat, or
four or five, in his pocket for the commander’s children.

“Zadda!” they cried as he finally released a
winded and chuckling Perrin and Mahrree, and embraced both children
next.

Mahrree couldn’t help but gaze down the line
of waiting wealthy. Each fancy-dressed man and woman wore the look
of stunned envy and, for the first time since she came to the city,
she felt as if she belonged there.

“Oh, my,” Gizzada chuckled as he finally let
the children go. He eyed Jaytsy and glanced nervously at Perrin.
“I’m sorry—I probably shouldn’t have done that, seeing as how
you’re such a . . . my goodness, such a young
woman
.” He
shook his head in amazement at Jaytsy.

Mahrree cleared her throat and gave a look to
her husband. Even his former staff sergeant could see what their
daughter had become, so should Perrin.

“And Peto! Well, I guess you’ll get there
too, son,” Gizzada slapped his skinny back. “But Colonel Shin! I
heard about that promotion! And Mrs. Shin—so glad you’re here!” His
grin was dazzling. “Come in! Come in!”

To the astonishment of everyone else standing
in line—and the two employees at the door—Gizzada ushered in the
Shin family ahead of everyone else.

Except for Peto, who turned to the startled
men. “My father
told
you we were friends of Gizzada. Next
time, you should probably listen. He’s not wearing that sword just
for show, you know.”

“Peto!” Perrin barked, but the damage was
done, the men were pale, and Peto snickered in triumph as he
followed his family and Gizzada into the restaurant.

“Gizzada, I can’t believe what you’ve created
here!” Mahrree gasped in astonishment at what now redefined “fancy”
in her mind. Tables were covered in linen cloths, and the plates
were made of white fired clay she later learned was called
porcelain. Even the forks, knives, and spoons were hammered with
elaborate designs on the handles. Silk cloths with intricately
woven designs covered the walls, and set in tall arrangements on
each table were more flowers and vines which, Mahrree noticed
later, were also bafflingly made of silk. Candles in fantastically
detailed holders illuminated the tables, each occupied by more
wearers of fine wool and dead furs, chatting happily and eating
daintily. Somewhere a few people were playing flutes and guitars as
accompaniment, which Mahrree thought the oddest thing to listen to
while one was trying to eat and talk. Weaving in and out of the
tables were men in pristine white tunics and black trousers
carrying trays of food so carefully laid out that each was a
miniature work of art that would last only a moment before it was
consumed.

“Truly astounding, Staff Sergeant,” Perrin
said as he eyed the water fountain bubbling in the middle of the
restaurant. “I’m completely overwhelmed.”

Gizzada smiled and cleared his throat. “But
that’s not what you
really
think, Colonel.” Gizzada cocked
his head toward a door across the crowded room. “Follow me.”

Through the tables they wove, people
frequently catching Gizzada’s arm to compliment “Sheff!” on one
thing or another, and cheerfully he took their thanks but picked up
his pace. He opened a finely carved door and the Shins filed into a
private room with a long table, vases of fresh blossoms, and forks
that looked to be made of gold. Gizzada closed the door behind
them.

“Private party of senior officers will be
here soon,” he gestured lazily at the table, “but we have a few
minutes until they come in. So, will the High General recover?” he
asked Perrin.

“Seems he will, even if he couldn’t finish
that fantastic sandwich you sent over earlier today. That’s what
got us all hungry.”