The Mansions of Idumea (Book 3 Forest at the Edge series) (66 page)

Snyd shook his head. “You looked a sight
neater last night, Colonel Shin. The only thing messing up your
uniform was a baby, not—”

Instead of finishing his sentence, the
colonel held the lantern higher. Mahrree saw splatters and smears
on her husband’s riding coat that she hadn’t noticed before. She
quickly looked down to avoid seeing more blood, but discovered a
few drying spots on her cloak instead.

Colonel Snyd smiled sympathetically. “Mrs.
Shin, I didn’t expect we’d meet again so soon. I certainly hope
your ride here was . . . well,” he raised his eyebrows and
shrugged. “What can I say?”

Colonel Shin shook his hand. “I can say thank
you, Colonel Snyd. Your men came just in time.”

Jaytsy and Peto tumbled out of the coach and
hurried over to their father.

Snyd chuckled in understanding as they each
gripped one of Perrin’s arms. “Quite an evening you two have had,”
Snyd said. “Two exciting nights in a row, eh?”

“Father was more entertaining tonight than
last night,” Peto said. “I counted thirteen.”

“Thirteen what?” Mahrree asked.

Perrin leaned over to him. “I think you
missed three,” he whispered.

Mahrree pressed her hands to her temples and
groaned quietly. “Colonel, is there a washing room I could go for a
few minutes to freshen up?”

“Of course,” he said gesturing to the open
door behind him. “Sergeant Oblong,” he called to a waiting soldier,
“show Mrs. Shin and her daughter to the guest washing rooms. See to
it that they have some warm water, too.”

Mahrree nearly wept to see a cheerful and
familiar face approach them.

“If you’ll follow me, ma’am,” Oblong said as
he led them down a wide corridor. He pushed open a door for them.
“Clean towels are over there, and I’ll go fetch you the water. And
please tell Colonel Shin it worked,” he added in an urgent whisper.
“I’m being promoted next week!”

---

Only after Mahrree and Jaytsy, now willing to
hang on her mother for comfort, left to enter the fort did Perrin
turn to his son.

“First, counting kills is not some kind of
competition—”

“And second,” Snyd said, “never discuss the
number in front of the women.”

Perrin pointed at him. “Right.”

“So it was that bad, Colonel Shin?” Snyd
asked, nodding at his bloodied coat and leading him and Peto into
his command office. Peto took a chair by the door to watch the
changing of the horses across the compound.

Perrin shook his head as he slumped into a
chair. “It was very bold. Right outside the village border. I never
remember them attacking in such a manner.”

“It’s a very tempting load,” Snyd pointed
out. “We have no idea how severely they’ve been affected.”

“But that’s not what bothers me,” Perrin
said, eyeing the man he knew hoped to be the next High General.
Seven years ago when he trained Snyd in new protocols, he’d
regarded Perrin as little more than the general’s nuisance son.
Last night at The Dinner he’d been predictably cordial, but Perrin
felt Snyd sizing him up.

Tonight, the evaluating contest continued,
but it took on a different tenor. Now both men were to posture as
to who knew more and had better hunches as to what was
really
happening. That’s the way it went with brassies,
Perrin knew. Enlisted men decided things with their fists, but
senior officers established their hierarchy with deliberately
dropping nuggets of information. It wasn’t a matter of who was
stronger or a better fighter; it was about who possessed the more
valuable nuggets.

“Nor I,” Snyd said. “It’s
how
they
knew so quickly. We barely got the message over an hour ago about
the caravan, yet they had dozens of men, according to my scouts,
just as quickly? Shin, someone was talking.”

That was obvious, Perrin thought. He didn’t
feel like playing any games tonight, and he wasn’t interested in
establishing himself in the colonel pecking order, so he simply
asked, “Who? The only one who knew soon enough would’ve been
Riplak. The other messenger the High General sent went straight to
the reserves. I saw him there.”

“How long has Riplak served your father?”
Snyd asked, his eyes narrowing with the implication that he’d
worked out the solution long before Perrin arrived.

But Perrin had no patience for that. “My
father’s known him for years. Riplak even worked in his stables
when he was a teenager, and my father helped him get into Command
School. He’s been his assistant for over a year now. He’s
trustworthy.”

Snyd shrugged at that, suggesting he’d visit
that evaluation again later. “Maybe it was just a stroke of good
luck on the Guarders’ part. Maybe they were on their way somewhere
else and happened upon your caravan. But what if they weren’t?”

Snyd watched him for a response, but Perrin
just sighed wearily. He never was one for
my-brass-is-shinier-than-your-brass. He just wanted drivers and a
fresh horse.

Snyd gave up and slapped his desk almost
cheerfully. If the other man wasn’t even going to play
who’s-got-the-bigger-brass, it was as good as a win. “Well, I’m on
it, Colonel Shin. We’re rounding up whoever we can right now, and
I’ve ordered the men to keep the Guarders separate so they can’t
kill each other. We’ll also replace the soldiers you lost. I have
my captain taking a count right now as they change the horses to
see how many more you need to get to Edge.”

Perrin smiled genuinely. “Excellent. That’s
exactly what I need. Thank you.”

“I have to admit,” Snyd said, sitting back in
his chair and settling in for another round, “I’m surprised at the
Administrators. This show of generosity is quite unexpected.” He
raised an eyebrow.

Perrin gave him a deliberate look. “Yes, yes
it is,
Colonel.”

Snyd broke into a sly smile, realizing that a
candidate for High General had just kicked himself out of the race.
“Understood. I also understand the need to get you on your way as
quickly as possible. I won’t detain you any longer,
except
,”
he said in the generous manner of one who knew he would someday
become the other’s superior officer, “to order you to clean
yourself up. Your wife and daughter have seen enough of our work
tonight.”

Colonel Shin glanced down at his hands
turning brown with drying blood. “Yes, of course.” He had to
concede it was a good idea. “Peto, come with me.”

He left the office and headed to the
soldiers’ washroom, his son following close behind.

Perrin was acutely aware of his son watching
him as he rubbed his face and hands with the cold water, using the
bar of lavender soap for extra measure. His coat and the new
uniform underneath, also showing dark splashes, would have to wait.
Maybe that’s why the blue was a deeper shade now, he considered—to
hide the stains better.

As he took a cloth and dried himself, he
asked, “How much did you see, son?”

“A lot, Father,” Peto looked down at his
shuffling feet. “Probably more than I should’ve. That’s how the
crate fell.”

“What do you mean?” Perrin put down the cloth
and inspected himself in the mirror looking for anything else that
would make his wife cringe or his daughter whimper.

“I was kneeling on it, up against the window
and hanging out to watch you. One of those last bumps knocked the
crate over and broke it open. Knocked me down, too.”

Perrin groaned softly to himself. Worse than
the talk of explaining “How Peto Came to Be” was the discussion of
“How to Make Sense of Bloody Violence.” He should’ve had this talk
when Peto was eight as well.

Perrin turned around and leaned against the
water pump table. “And what did you think about what you saw?”

Peto shook his head. “I never knew you could
do all that. I mean, I’ve seen Uncle Shem and the others
practicing, and figured you must know some of it, but you’re always
on the horse giving the commands. I never saw you . . . you know,
doing
it. Slashing someone. I must admit,” he looked down at
his feet again, “I was kind of proud of you.”

“Kind of proud,” Perrin repeated quietly. “I
kind of appreciate that. But what did you think about what you saw
happen to those men?”

Peto inspected his boots for another moment
before lifting his head, his pale eyes clouded. “It was awful,
Father. Some of them died, didn’t they?”

Perrin wasn’t about to say,
At least
thirteen; the others will die from their injuries by morning
.
Instead he said, “I’ve always been far too effective, I’m
afraid.”

Horrified, Peto whispered, “How do you do
it?”

Perrin sighed inwardly with relief. It was
the boys who were enthralled by the blood that worried him. “I do
it for you, for your mother, for your sister. I don’t enjoy it,
Peto, but it’s satisfying to know you’re safe because I know how to
use steel. I don’t want you to have to see that again. I’m just
glad it was dark. I don’t like seeing what happens, either. And I
never want to get to the point where I do.”

Peto nodded at him and bit his lower lip.
“Father,” he whispered, “I
really
don’t want to be a
soldier.”

“You don’t have to be, Peto. It’s probably
not your calling.”

Peto furrowed his brows. “My calling?”

“What you feel driven to be. What the Creator
wants you to be. Many men ignore it or try to fight it. Sometimes I
find myself fighting it, too,” Perrin confessed. “But I know that
being in the army is my calling. In time, you’ll know yours
too.”

Peto was thoughtful for a moment before he
eyed his father. “Are you sure it was sixteen?”

“Positive. While some soldiers keep track for
bragging purposes, I always keep count to make sure I didn’t miss
anyone who may come back later to surprise me. Learned that in the
forest before you were born. And sixteen’s pretty good for an old
guy like me.”

Peto shook his head. “You’re not really old,
Father.”

“I guess you’re right,” he sighed. “I could
be doing this for another twenty-seven years until I retire.”

They left the washroom and found Jaytsy and
Mahrree waiting for them by the coach. Mahrree’s face was brighter
now that Perrin’s was.

“Sure you don’t want to ride with us in the
coach?” she asked.

“I wished I could,” Perrin said, “but I
understand a crate of dresses has taken my favorite seat. I think
I’m best put to use where I was.”

Jaytsy hugged him. “That was so scary!” she
whispered. “I’m so glad you’re my father.”

“Ah, Jaytsy, enough of that mushy stuff,”
Peto said, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her into the coach.
“He doesn’t need to hear that. Toughen up, girl. Some dim-witted
soldier somewhere wants to marry you, remember?”

Jaytsy smacked his arm and sent a grateful
look to her father before she loaded into the coach after her
brother.

“Ready for the next leg, Colonel Shin?”
Mahrree asked him.

“Only if you are, Mrs. Shin. I should give
you a field promotion for driving.”

“For holding the reins,” she corrected.

“And for marshalling all this food and
clothing.” He gave her a mischievous grin. “Hmm—marshalling, field
promotion . . . how about the title of Field Marshal?”

She pulled a face. “How about we just pray
for a quiet night?”

“Already have been.”

---

“What did he do?” Chairman Mal shouted as
Brisack jogged up the stairs to the mansion for the second time
that night. It was late and cold, but Mal was practically on fire
with fury.

“I don’t know,” Brisack panted as he reached
the top. He bent over to catch his breath, gulping in freezing air
that seized his lungs. “But they all went,” he gasped. “None have
come back. No notes. No explanations. I don’t know—”

“And Gadiman?” Mal exploded.

“I can’t find him anywhere,” Brisack said as
he struggled to stand back up. “But when I do—”

“You’ll bring him to ME!”

Chapter 20
~
“I realize it’s not exactly a mansion in
Idumea--”

M
ahrree, Jaytsy, and
Peto couldn’t sleep. The night was extremely cold, probably enough
to destroy much of the fruit blossoms and early crops that were
just coming up. They used some of Joriana’s dresses as blankets to
keep them warm, and kept their eyes focused outside, watching for
another attack.

They’d lost seven soldiers—their conditions
and locations still unknown when they left Pools—and Poe Hili had a
few gashes that the surgeon hastily bandaged. His arm would be
stitched later in Edge, and Shem would likely need a new
jacket.

At the next messenger station, not all of the
teams of horses were assembled yet, but a nervous supervisor
assured Perrin they were on the way. The supervisor also stared at
Hili, as if he suspected the young man was somehow related to the
station losing a horse the night before. On her way back from the
washing room, Mahrree noticed that the private purposely avoided
the station supervisor’s inquiring gaze.

Perrin made the decision to divide the
caravan. The ten wagons already with horses would go on ahead. The
possibility that they’d be attacked again was unlikely, but if they
were only half of the food would be lost. It was another hour
before the coach and the last ten wagons continued on their way.
Sometime in the night they reached Midplain, and the fort was
waiting for them with fresh horses.

Mahrree and the children somehow managed to
fall asleep along the road to Rivers, and well after sunrise their
half of the caravan was passing the point where the two rivers
converged and then split to become three. Mahrree woke with a
surprise to see them changing horses again. She saw her husband
talking to a soldier and he nodded at something he said.