The Mansions of Idumea (Book 3 Forest at the Edge series) (76 page)

Thorne nodded. “That’s understandable, Zenos.
But I believe I can help you.”

He sat back, checked that Shin still seemed
to be lost in another world, and looked back at the sergeant. “The
past several years have demonstrated that the Guarders are a very
patient people, Zenos, and they think differently than most. You
see, they don’t enjoy the victory, they enjoy the
pursuit
.
Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes,” Shem said slowly. “I believe I
do.”

“I believe you do too, Master Sergeant.”
Thorne smiled halfway, but his blue eyes remained hard. “Did you
ever own a cat, Zenos?”

“We had a couple in the barns,” Shem
shrugged, “but I never paid much attention to them.”

“That’s too bad. Cats are highly underrated,
Zenos,” Thorne said thoughtfully. “We had an excellent mouser in
one of our barns when I was a boy. I would sit and watch her for
hours. You see, she was an expert at pursuit and attack. She didn’t
need the mice she caught—my mother kept her well-fed—but she caught
prey anyway, just for the joy of it. And she always brought what
she captured into the barn: moles, squirrels, even large bugs.
She’d injure her prey just enough that it couldn’t escape, then
she’d watch it struggle for life. She’d stay within a few feet of
it, observing it trying to flee, batting it occasionally when it
stopped moving. Sometimes she’d leave for a while and let the
doomed creature think it could escape.”

Thorne had a chilly smile of appreciation on
his face that caused Shem to develop a twitch in his eye.

“Then when the victim least expected it she’d
come back and give it a new wound, just to keep herself
entertained,” Thorne continued. “And when she tired of it, she’d
pounce and kill it, just for something to do. Then she’d leave it
to rot and find another victim.

“Once she even caught a falcon. They were
after the same prey, and she wounded its wing. She dragged it into
the barn and taunted it with the possibility of flying away, but it
had no chance. She could jump as high as its injured wing would let
it rise, and if it didn’t plummet on its own, she’d smack it down.
She studied and tormented that bird for days before it finally
began to fail on its own through starvation. Only then did she
finish it off.”

The colonel sat back in satisfaction.

“And
that’s
how Guarders see the
world, Master Sergeant Zenos. They are the cats, the world is their
barn, and whomever they want is their prey. Just to give them
something to do.”

“For entertainment,” Shem clarified.

Thorne tipped his head. “And perhaps a bit of
research and gold.”

“A fascinating metaphor, Colonel,” Shem
answered, hoping the colonel couldn’t see that his skin had
developed goose bumps. “And a disturbingly insightful one as
well.”

Thorne smiled more broadly. “I’m glad you
appreciate it.”

Shem wasn’t about to contradict his
evaluation. This was, after all, a man who as a child enjoyed
watching a cat torture a falcon to death. Shem may not have known a
lot about the ways of Idumea, but some things are pretty easy to
figure out. You don’t disagree with some kinds of men.

Cush leaned forward, apparently hearing the
conversation again. “I wouldn’t ask his theory on women if I were
you, unless you want to hear ‘fascinatingly disturbing metaphors’
about every barnyard animal that exists. Had I heard those before
he married my daughter, I might have changed my mind about giving
approval!” He laughed.

Shem tried to smile at him, while Thorne gave
a tired and obliging nod to his father-in-law who nudged him.

“Ah, here we are,” Cush said as they pulled
into the garrison.

Perrin still showed no awareness of his
surroundings as the carriage drove up to the hospital. But as the
carriage came to a stop, Perrin slowly looked over at his
friend.

Shem shivered. He’d never seen a dead man
staring at him before. He helped Perrin out of the carriage and
Perrin mumbled, “I want to see my parents now.”

“Perrin, I need to warn you,” Cush said as
they assisted him, weakened and clumsy, up the steps and into the
main hallway. “The attack was brutal. I’m not sure this is such a
good idea, considering your state of mind.”

The surgeon spotted them from down the hall
and jogged over to greet them. “Colonel Shin,” he said extending
his hand, but Perrin didn’t take it. “I’m so very sorry.” He let
his hand drop. “There was nothing I could do, and I was there very
quickly.”

“I just want to see them,” Perrin
whispered.

The surgeon started to shake his head but
then reluctantly nodded. He led the men, Perrin stumbling a bit,
downstairs to the holding cellar. Cush and Thorne stayed outside,
but Perrin grabbed Shem’s arm.

“I don’t need you to look at them. I just
want you to stay with me,” he whispered, his eyes still not
focusing on anything clearly.

Shem nodded and put a bracing arm around his
waist as they followed the surgeon into the dark and cool cellar.
The surgeon lit a lantern and held it before the two covered
bodies. Once he gingerly pulled back the cloth covering them,
Perrin needed only a moment to verify they were his parents.

He collapsed in Shem’s grip.

“I knew this was a bad idea,” the surgeon
said as he caught Perrin’s other arm. “How much sleep has he
had?”

“Maybe two or three hours.”

“Food?” the surgeon grunted as Perrin’s
weight slowly dragged him down.

“None that I know of, sir,” Shem said as he
hefted his friend off the surgeon. “I also sort of choked him
recently,” he felt he should add.

“The man needs rest,” the surgeon decided,
struggling with Shem to support Perrin between them. “I have just
the thing upstairs.”

Shem thought Perrin needed to eat and drink,
and maybe be checked over by the surgeon to make sure Shem didn’t
cause any lasting damage.

The two men strained to heave him up the
stairs, Perrin oblivious and half dead himself. They were followed
by Cush and Thorne, who didn’t offer to help with moving the
colonel, Shem noted with some irritation. The senior officers
posted themselves at the door of the first unoccupied room they
found, while Shem and the surgeon laid Perrin down on one of two
narrow beds. The surgeon left to speak to his aids while Shem sat
helplessly next to his friend.

Perrin just stared blankly at some indistinct
spot above the open doorway where the Cush and Thorne stood on
guard. It seemed to Shem that only one of them looked concerned.
The other kept a finger twitching on the hilt of his sheathed
sword.

The surgeon returned soon with his aids and
the officers stepped out of his way to let them in. In the
surgeon’s gloved hands he held a small brown bottle and a thick
cloth.

“Colonel Shin,” he said louder than necessary
as he doused the cloth with the something from the bottle, “I want
you to breathe this.”

Perrin put a hand awkwardly in front of his
face.

Cush and Thorne were now joined at the door
by Doctor Brisack. He was slightly winded, having rushed over from
the Administrators’ Headquarters. Brisack, seeing what was in the
surgeon’s hands, pushed between the two officers and crouched in
front of Shin.

“Colonel, this will help. Trust me,” he
said.

“No,” Perrin said listlessly. “Just leave me
alone.”

The doctors exchanged looks.

“Colonel Shin,” Brisack said more forcefully.
“You
will
breathe this.”

“Don’t make him,” Shem held up his hands.
“I’ll take care of him. Just bring him something to eat—”

“He’s not in his right mind, Master
Sergeant,” Brisack cut him off. “This will help get him there.”
Brisack turned again to his unwilling patient. “You’ll feel
nothing, Colonel Shin.”

Perrin sat up abruptly, forcing Shem off the
bed and onto the floor. “I already feel
nothing
, Doctor!” he
yelled. “I want to feel
better!
”

The garrison surgeon motioned to the two
aids. They promptly stepped over to the colonel, pushing Shem
aside.

“What are you doing?” Shem cried, scrambling
to his feet.

The two aids grabbed Perrin’s shoulders and
forced him down while Doctor Brisack threw himself on to Perrin’s
thrashing legs. The surgeon shoved the cloth onto his face.

“Stop it!” Shem lunged for the surgeon.

But Thorne was faster. He caught Shem’s arm
and yanked him back. “It’s all right, Zenos. It will help. I’ve
seen it work before.”

Perrin gagged and choked and flailed for what
seemed like five minutes, but Shem, feeling helpless in the firm
grip of Colonel Thorne, knew it was much shorter than that.

Finally Perrin went completely still, and the
doctors smiled at each other in triumph.

“What did you do to him?” Shem cried, staring
at his lifeless friend.

“Put him to sleep!” Doctor Brisack said
proudly, brushing off his red jacket and straightening his white
ruffles. “Fantastically beneficial concoction. We’ve been
experimenting with sulfur, acids, gases—”

“And requiring new workrooms when those
experiments go awry,” Colonel Thorne interrupted in a loud aside to
General Cush.

Brisack scowled at him before turning back to
Shem. “It’s still in the testing stage, and we’re working on the
potency to get it consistent, but it’s quite harmless.” He sent
another withering glare at Thorne, who didn’t even blink. “Perrin
will wake up feeling like a new man.” Brisack turned to one of the
aids. “Keep administering as needed for the next six hours.”

“I was thinking eight,” said the surgeon who
was already handing the bottle and cloth to an aide.

Brisack shook his head. “We don’t want him
groggy for the burial.”

The surgeon nodded and motioned to the aide
to follow the orders.

“But he didn’t want it!” Shem said miserably,
watching Perrin’s very still chest. “Are you sure he’s all
right?”

The surgeon checked Perrin’s pulse and
smiled. “Strong and steady, just very slow. We call it
sedation.”

“It’s all right, Master Sergeant. Really,”
said Doctor Brisack, patting his shoulder. “I used some of it just
yesterday on a young boy who got in the way of an agitated bull.
Poor little thing had a broken leg and a broken arm. Gave him some
sedation and he slept right through the most agonizing pain of
setting his bones. He woke up later in splints and in much better
spirits.”

“But you forced it on him!” Shem tried again,
knowing his protests were useless, but feeling as if he should
point that out. What Perrin wanted, no one cared about. What was
best for him, no one even discussed. All they wanted was for him to
be quiet and out of the way.

“He’ll thank us when he wakes,” Cush assured
him. “I tell you what, Zenos: take that second bed there. Get some
rest yourself. You look exhausted. Stay close to Perrin, and we’ll
talk again when he revives.”

Shem sighed at the unconscious figure splayed
haphazardly on the narrow bed.

Doctor Brisack walked over to the window and
closed the curtains, the thick dark blue cloth hiding the sunlight.
He patted Zenos again comfortingly. “It’s been a terrible night and
day for him. We’ll be merciful when it’s time to discuss the
repercussions of his behavior. The man’s been forced to his knees.
Even lower.”

Something in the manner in which the doctor
said those last words made Shem think he was
happy
about it.
But Shem must have been more tired than he realized.

“Rest, Sergeant,” Brisack said kindly. “Then
the two of you can prepare for the burial this evening.” He gently
pushed Shem onto the other bed next to Perrin, and the men filed
out the room.

After they closed the door, Shem got up,
checked Perrin’s slow pulse himself, and frowned in apology. He
repositioned Perrin’s legs more comfortably, lifted his arm hanging
off the bed onto his belly, put a pillow under his heavy head, and
carefully placed a gray wool blanket over him.

Still deeply worried, Shem watched him for a
moment. Eventually he leaned over and positioned his ear almost
next to Perrin’s nose and mouth to hear him breathe. After a minute
he was satisfied that Perrin was only in a deep sleep.

Shem considered taking off Perrin’s boots,
but the exhaustion of the night and the excitement of the morning
began to overwhelm him. He sat on the bunk, just for a moment to
rest—

He didn’t notice when he fell over,
unconscious.

---

No one really ate their breakfast, but just
sat at the table staring past the beautiful spread Hycymum created.
She wasn’t eating either, just pushing around bits of dried berries
in the last of the syrup.

“She was always so kind about the fashions we
had here in Edge,” she said quietly, continuing the reminiscing
they began last night. Hycymum had said that before, but Mahrree
knew her mother needed to talk it out. And talk. And talk.

Someone might as well talk.

“I knew that what we had in our market would
never match Idumea, but Joriana always helped me find the best
items. She never told me they had silk sheets.”

Mahrree felt a pang of regret she didn’t
bring back her gray gown, just for her mother to play with.

“Imagine . . . silk sheets.”

Jaytsy sniffed repeatedly as she rested her
head on her hand, and Peto stared glumly at his plate. Mahrree took
a few tentative bites of breakfast, but oddly it all tasted of
ash.

The only one who ate anything was Major
Karna, who stood at the front windows with his plate of pancakes
and berries, wolfing them down and squinting out the thick wavy
windows.

“Really need to replace these with something
thinner and clearer,” he murmured to himself, but in the dreadful
silence of the house his words carried to the eating table. “I can
barely make out who are soldiers and who aren’t. Serious security
concern. Then again, I can’t see anything clearly out of this eye.”
He closed his good eye experimentally, shook his head in
disappointment, and swallowed down the last bite of food.