The Mansions of Idumea (Book 3 Forest at the Edge series) (5 page)

At least Mahrree taught Edge’s special
cases—the failing and likely thieving boys whom she had in her
After School Care program years ago. She was allowed by Mr. Hegek
to take great liberties with the scripts Idumea sent for
teachers—

Actually, Hegek had pleaded with her to do
whatever she wanted to make the class interesting enough to keep
the boys in the building, because he was sure the commander of the
fort wouldn’t report any of them for stretching the rules so far
that they twanged. And since that was exactly what Mahrree was
hoping for, she readily agreed.

Teaching also gave Mahrree access to the
mundane scripts sent by the Department of Education so she knew
what Jaytsy and Peto were being taught and could counter it at
home. Perrin loved the delicious irony that the Administrators’
measures had only provided his family with even more topics to
debate illegally at dinner each evening. That’s why Perrin’s
perpetual sneer at the School Buildings always slid into a smug
smile. Maybe the Administrators felt sure they were succeeding on
the surface of things, but like a stomach ailment, nasty things
they weren’t expecting still brewed under what seemed to be a calm
façade. At least in the Shin family things were always
churning.

Perrin led his horse to the outskirts of Edge
and spurred it to a run north along the pathway that followed the
canals. He slowed the animal only when the last of the
neighborhoods flashed past him and before him lay the fallow fields
and the forest beyond. He rode up to the border of the trees and
peered in.

The forest was quiet, except for a steam vent
about sixty paces in that seemed to be venting stronger than usual.
Otherwise, there was nothing in the sulfur-scented trees.

He smiled, but without any real joy, as he
saw the new recruits mounted on horseback approaching the fresh
spring area. Right on time.

He nudged his horse into the darker shadows
of the trees next to the cattle fence and watched from a distance.
He knew the sergeant running the new recruits’ drill was describing
the dangers of the forest, pointing out the features in the
daylight so the young men could see them clearly. The soldiers
respectfully nodded, some vaguely interested, but others obviously
bored.

Perrin bristled. It used to be that all
recruits were eager and appropriately afraid, but no longer. Over
the past decade the young men of the world, probably hardened by
their years of thieving, had become calloused and more violent, and
eventually turned traitor to their Guarder benefactors to become
soldiers. Perrin rarely got anything useful out of the boys about
their time as thieves because they really didn’t know much except
to leave the goods in one place and pick up a note about what to
steal next. Each year the codes changed anyway, so last year’s
thieves were nearly useless in harvesting this year’s crop. Their
loyalties shifted easily because the army provided steadier wages
for eighteen-year-olds than the Guarders ever did.

Even Shem had to alter his training methods
for a physical, angry style which conflicted with his naturally
gentle disposition. Later tonight these boys would be awakened from
their sleep by Master Sergeant Zenos, ordered to dress and mount
up, then given the same tour of the forest in the dead of night,
complete with descriptions of how deadly and effective Guarders
were in the dark. No one could beat Zenos for telling a story, and
each of those ten soldiers would still be trembling by the time he
stumbled into the mess hall for breakfast in the morning.

Perrin rested his hands on the horn of his
saddle and silently counted down in his head. The sergeant led the
soldiers directly to the fresh spring where the log cattle fence
had another opening, and the horses and men were allowed to enter
in just a few paces to drink the water. None of them noticed their
commander further down the forest line.

Just as Perrin reached “one,” a hulking body
dressed in black dropped from the trees in front of the recruits.
Several of them shrieked like little girls, while two soldiers fell
from their horses in surprise. The massive black figure remained
crouched before them, glaring menacingly through the slits of a
black knitted cap which covered his face almost completely, while
another soldier bravely tried to draw his sword until it tumbled to
the ground.

The sergeant on duty did nothing but smirk
sadly at the lieutenant colonel, whom he had spotted some time
ago.

It took about fifteen seconds for the
recruits to realize there was no real danger, especially once Shem
pulled off the woolen cap and shook his head slowly, an admonishing
technique he’d learned from Grandpy.

Perrin stayed in the shadows to watch the
show and chuckle, partly in amusement, partly in exasperation.
These were their new soldiers, after all. It was one of the few
jobs the Administrators deemed these kinds of young men worthy
enough to fill, but Perrin always hated getting the last bits from
the barrel.

“As first instincts go,” Master Sergeant
Zenos began loudly as the two soldiers who fell off their horses
sheepishly climbed back on, “that was significantly less than
impressive. A man in black jumps out at you in the forest, and
three of you scream, two of you fall off your horses, four of you
stare at . . . what—a pigeon? And only one man tries to draw his
sword? And Private, last time I checked you were right-handed, so
why were you trying to draw that sword with your
left
? From
your
left
hip? That’s why it’s on the ground now, making you
the perfect target!”

He shook his head and paced slowly in front
of the soldiers as they squirmed in embarrassment.

“Pitiful. Weak. What will you be like at
night? And several of you told me you were ready for the army . . .
First instinct—DRAW YOUR SWORDS!” he bellowed.

Perrin smiled genuinely at that. Shem used
the same words and cadence Perrin had used on him when he was a
young corporal who hated to use the long blade.
You don’t have
to kill them, Zenos
, he’d told him.
Just give them something
to remember you by.

“What good are your swords strapped to your
bodies if you never use them?” Zenos shouted as he stopped in front
of the now-trembling men. “At least with a sword in your hand you
appear
threatening.”

While Zenos was getting better at commanding,
Perrin could still hear the apologetic undertone. No one else knew
how much Shem hated to raise his voice.

“Appearances are deceiving,” Zenos continued,
and Perrin knew the biggest example of that stood right before
them, “—and in this case, a little deception is good since you
obviously have nothing else going for you! Now all of you,
dismount! Draw your swords! Show me some bravery!”

The soldiers—feeling humbled if not downright
humiliated—scrambled to comply, each trying to be the first to hit
the ground.

Perrin left the shadows of the tree line and
rode his horse over to the recruits.

They jumped in surprise to see another figure
arrive from what they thought was an abandoned forest. A few
dropped their swords, and two young men bobbed up and down, unsure
if they should retrieve their weapons or stand at attention before
their commander. They tried to do both, cracking their heads
against each other as one went down while the other went up.

Lieutenant Colonel Shin kept his face
perfectly still. He would share the laugh later with his
friend.

Master Sergeant Zenos groaned loudly and
gestured for the men to first retrieve their weapons, and then
acknowledge the presence of the officer.

Shin waited and nodded at the men who
finally, all put back together again, saluted him with wobbly hands
at their foreheads. One of the recruits subtly tried to rub a
growing bump.

Shin returned their salute and with a grave
expression said, “Zenos, what have we here?”

“Not much,” said Zenos with obvious
disappointment. “But I’m working on it, I assure you, sir.”

“Indeed you have your work cut out for you,
Master Sergeant. But if anyone can turn these boys into something
resembling men, it’s you. You know,” he said in a tone that was
simultaneously casual and threatening, “two weeks ago Sands was
raided. Seems some of the Guarders actually dared to go back into
the village, and they were rather successful. Injured four soldiers
and killed a fifth. And just this morning I received a message that
Moorland was hit again. Several head of cattle were taken. Someone
hacked a hole in the cattle fence with a hatchet, and the animals’
tracks headed straight for the forest. That means,
soldiers
,” he was sure to add a layer of doubt on that word,
“that the Guarders are heading east—straight for Edge.”

The young men shifted nervously, which was
exactly what Perrin hoped to see.

“Now,” the lieutenant colonel continued
steadily, “we haven’t had a successful raid in Edge for over ten
years. I like to believe that’s because the Guarders are afraid of
the might of our fort. However, if they have any spies sitting in
the forest today—and I assure you, they’re out there—they’ll have
seen today that our recruits are timid and ineffectual. They may
assume the entire army is the same way. And if they do, they’ll cut
you down before you can even find the hilt of your swords.”

He smiled easily as their faces
tightened.

“Just something to think about, boys.” He
sent his friend a twitch and a nod that said,
Still on for
dinner tonight?

Perrin and Shem had developed a whole system
of facial signals, from silly to subtle, by which they communicated
a variety of messages. A few years ago ago, they sat in these same
trees listening in on the conversations of sloppy Guarders. But
there were also many other long, boring nights where no one showed
up below them to spy on the fort, so they had nothing else to do
but come up with winks, twitches, and wriggles to say everything
from
This tree’s digging into my backside
, to
Is that a
pack of wolves under us
? It was ridiculous, as his daughter
frequently reminded them, but immensely useful. They could silently
convey all kinds of things about soldiers and villagers, except
sometimes they looked like they were trying to get a swarm of
invisible mosquitoes off their faces.

Zenos sent back a quick grimace. Give his
apologies to Mahrree; he’d be out late with this batch of soldiers,
but he’d be by for midday meal tomorrow after the congregational
meeting.

Shin nodded. “Carry on, boys.”

Perrin returned his horse to the stables at
the fort, told the stable master the mare was adequate but to keep
looking, spent ten minutes finishing up his paperwork in the
command tower, and jogged home to try to be on time for dinner for
once.

He almost made it.

“Anything left for me?” he called as he came
through the back door and into the kitchen.

Jaytsy was carrying a tray—Shem was missing
steak—to the eating room. “Mother, he made it!”

“Really?” Perrin kissed her cheek.

“Yep, because we decided to eat half an hour
later than usual.”

Perrin chuckled and followed his daughter
through the door to the combined eating and gathering room. As she
walked, or rather pranced—she seemed to bounce and flutter
everywhere—he assessed her height. She seemed to finally have
stopped growing, settling in at a stature between her father and
her mother, making her taller than the majority of women in
Edge.

Mahrree frequently said their daughter was a
perfect blend of their traits, but all her facial features came
from her mother. His contribution was her height, her nearly black
hair which she pulled into a long ponytail, and her large eyes that
were as dark as his.

In the eating room, Mahrree was just setting
down the bread board on the table, and Perrin paused.

She’d told him that someday he’d realize his
daughter was a growing—and even beautiful—young woman, but there
was no way she’d ever match her mother.

Mahrree eyed him back, her gray-green-brown
eyes—he’d given up trying to figure out their color—twinkling
impishly at him. Occasionally people said a woman’s appeal faded
after thirty, but that didn’t apply to his wife. Over forty now,
she only seemed to intensify in everything appealing about her:
thought, conscience, strength, humor . . .

Oh, and she was pleasant looking as well.
Some men may not have thought her to be a stunning beauty, but she
was much more than beautiful; she was
attractive
.

Her perfect pink lips that she pouted just to
drive him to distraction, her light brown hair that she kept
shoulder length because she knew he loved to run his fingers
through it, and those eyes—those eyes that were as complex and
clear as their color. It didn’t matter that she had a slender slip
of a body, was shorter than most women, and weighed a hundred
pounds less than her husband. Nudge in her in the wrong direction
and she was fiercer than a belligerent badger, capable of taking
out targets much larger than herself.

Maybe it was the soldier in him, but Perrin
found that immensely attractive.

But Mahrree didn’t know how powerful she was,
much to Perrin’s relief. Uncle Hogal had once told Perrin she was
the most dangerous woman in the world, and a sliver of Perrin
feared that may be true. But all she ever said about herself was
that she was a small woman in a tiny village, and no one would ever
pay any attention to her. Perrin prayed
that
was true.

He took a step toward her. “Where’s Peto?” he
asked with a mischievous smile before reaching his wife.

“Here,” said Peto, coming out of his room.
“About time, Father. I’m going to wither away to nothing if I wait
for dinner any longer.”