The Mansions of Idumea (Book 3 Forest at the Edge series) (41 page)

Mahrree giggled and Perrin smirked in their
kiss. Just to annoy their son, they turned it into a noisy
smooch.

“Ah, Peto,” Jaytsy sighed dreamily. “They’re
just being cute. Get used to it, because someday soon it’ll be me
and some man.”

Perrin and Mahrree both choked and
spluttered, effectively ending the moment.

“What did you just say, young lady?” Mahrree
turned to her daughter.

“Well, not
today
,” she squirmed. “Just
someday—”

Perrin turned to Mahrree. “Don’t let her out
of the house unattended.”

“And you make sure all the guards posted here
are old and ugly,” she replied.

Jaytsy rolled her eyes. “You two are so
impossible! I can’t talk to you about anything.”

Mahrree winced in apology. “That’s exactly
what I used to say to your Grandmother Peto.”

Joriana clapped her hands. “Well then, let’s
get started with the master checklist until our dance instructor
comes. We’re going to learn how to host a great party, my
dears!”

Mahrree grimaced again. “And that’s what my
mother would say to me,” she mumbled to herself. Perrin was
right—Idumea was most disorienting.

Perrin heard her. He grinned as he put on his
cap. While his mother got up to retrieve a stack of papers, he
mouthed to Mahrree,
Remember, I hate Idumea.

The next hour was spent with pages of
preparations spread out across the massive dining table. It was
enough to make Mahrree’s head ache, but as she massaged her scalp
she claimed that the throbbing was from banging it yesterday, so as
not to offend her eager mother-in-law.

“I’ve kept notes on every dinner since the
first,” Joriana said proudly. “And I think it was after that first
dinner that Perrin convinced Relf to assign him to the new fort in
Edge. He was already gone by the time we had the second one. He’d
heard no one danced in Edge.” She shook her head. “I must admit, he
really did seem to hate that first dance we hosted. He was anxious
all evening. For someone so natural with a sword in his hands, you
think he wouldn’t be so awkward with a woman in his arms.”

She turned pink and looked horrified at
Mahrree, as if suddenly remembering who she was. “Oh! I didn’t mean
. . . I, uh . . . what I
meant
was . . .”

Mahrree chuckled. “It’s all right. I’m rather
relieved he was uncomfortable with other women. I’m the only one
who should ever be in his arms. If you want to keep him happy about
all of this, don’t push him to dance. He’ll find another way to be
civil, I’m sure.”

Joriana reluctantly nodded her head. “Yes,
I’m afraid that may be true. Ah, here it is—last year’s stack of
notes. The best Dinner yet! Now, I delegated all of this out last
season, but usually I start checking on people a few weeks before
the big day. Oh dear, do we have some catching up to do. We’ll
visit each place and introduce you, since this may be your duty
someday.” She elbowed Mahrree excitedly, and Mahrree bit her tongue
prudently. “First we’ll begin with the bakeries. I use two, one for
the breads, and one for the cakes . . .”

Joriana Shin made fun of her husband’s
file-keeping, but had she been a general, she would’ve needed far
more than just one large cellar room to keep track of her details.
Of course, Mahrree didn’t say that out loud.

But she was glad by the time the instructor
arrived to give her a chance to take a breath. Later they had at
least ten stops to make—maybe more, she lost track—to assure all
the foods, decorations, tables, chairs, and groomers for the
temporary stables were in place. She was grateful for the break to
watch Jaytsy learn to dance.

Kuman arrived with his own accompanist, a
portly man with a small guitar and a propensity for nodding with an
overly-happy grin. Mahrree thought it was good Perrin wasn’t there.
He would have felt the need to fix his mouth.

Kuman was slender-built, just slightly taller
than Mahrree, with curly brown hair cropped short, and a playful
expression. When he saw Joriana he bowed deeply.

“What an honor it is to be in your home
again, madam,” he said in an overly formal tone that made Joriana
almost giggle and Mahrree almost gag. “I’ll have your gown ready by
tomorrow afternoon, if you wish to come by for a fitting?”

“That’ll be perfect, Kuman. By the way, I’d
like you to meet Mahrree, my
daughter-in-law
.” There was
such obvious eyebrow raising and winking between Kuman, his
accompanist, and Joriana that Mahrree stiffened in anticipation,
but didn’t know what kind of ambush to expect.

Kuman nodded to the portly man who, in a
flash, whipped out a cord with markings on it and flung it to
Kuman.

Joriana had already stepped behind Mahrree
and, strangely, began to tickle her around her throat.

“Mother Shin!” Mahrree squirmed and
unwillingly laughed. “What is the meaning of—”

It was to get her elbows up, she discovered a
moment later, so that Joriana could take the cord from Kuman,
quickly wrap it around Mahrree’s bust, and call out a number to
Kuman who wrote it down in a little notebook his friend handed
him.

“Waist!” Joriana called out, and she slid the
cord down around Mahrree’s middle.

“What in the world’s going on here?” Mahrree
demanded, trying to catch her mother-in-law’s unnaturally fast
hands.

She shouted out another number which Kuman
wrote, and flipped the cord vertically. “Length!”

“Oh, this is ridiculous,” Mahrree folded her
arms and pouted. “This is because I wouldn’t choose a dress, isn’t
it?”

“Less than a week, madam!” said Kuman
fretfully as he eyed one of her shoulders, then the next, and wrote
down the number on the cord Joriana handed back to him. “My
seamstresses and I will be up all night as it is with last minute
alterations, and now I need to create
another
gown? You do
have lovely shoulders, though. Have you considered—”

“Keeping them covered, thank you,” Mahrree
said curtly. She turned to Joriana who was looking through some
samples of cloth in a bag Kuman had brought with him. “Mother Shin,
why can’t I just wear the green dress you bought me—”

Kuman blinked at her. “A
dress
? For
The Dinner?” He sent a hopeless look to Joriana.

Joriana rolled her eyes. “It’s her first
Dinner. And the dress is linen.”

Kuman sneered, as did his guitarist, and
together they tsk-tsked Mahrree.

She rubbed her forehead like her husband did,
and began to realize where he picked up the habit.

“This one, Kuman,” Joriana waved a swatch. “I
think this would be best for the assistant host of The Dinner.”

Kuman smiled as he wrote. “Ah, Smoldering
Slumber—excellent choice. One of my favorite colors.”

Before Mahrree could tell exactly what color
it was, Joriana thrust it into the bag again and nodded to her
gown-maker. “She likes things simple, so ankle-length, position D
bodice, medium to thick clusters—”

And now they were speaking in code, Mahrree
thought glumly.

“—mid-elbows, liberated turtle neckline—”

Kuman’s head popped up from his notebook.
“Turtle! On a gown?”

Mahrree stared at Joriana too.

Joriana sighed despondently. “My son will
insist—what can I do?” For Mahrree, she drew a line just below her
throat, which made Mahrree smile. Turtles obviously didn’t have
cleavage.

“And with a coverlet,” Joriana said to Kuman
“for a bit of variety.”

Kuman nodded as if the mysterious coverlet
was a particularly inspired addition.

“Do you have any cro-shayed available?”
Joriana asked Kuman who clapped the notebook shut.

Mahrree knew most of the words, but was lost
as to their meanings. Idumea was becoming more annoying by the
minute.

“My wife finished up one last night that
would lie nicely with the Smoldering Slumber.”

Mahrree began to wonder if gowns were
supposed to sound a bit indiscreet . . . and sleepy.

“But how about her shoulders?” Kuman tilted
his head and eyed Mahrree’s shoulders again with a look she
couldn’t define, but one that made her intensely uncomfortable.
“Perhaps a bit of cut-work?”

Now this sounded painful.

Again Joriana sighed. “My son likes them
covered. To keep all of us out of trouble, keep her covered. And
speaking of Perrin, he snuck off to the garrison instead of staying
here to learn dance!”

Kuman shook his head sadly. “To have such
misplaced priorities . . . Ah, well. But how fares the High
General?”

Joriana beamed. “Doing much better. He’s
hardly in the study anymore, and can spend the night in his
bedroom. He’s even at the garrison for few hours today. But,” she
said with a shrug, “he won’t be dancing either. Well, I still have
two women for you to work with,” she beckoned the men to follow her
out to the Grand Hall. “Let me call my granddaughter, Jaytsy—”

But Jaytsy was already waiting by the grand
staircase, bobbing eagerly. Peto sat on the balcony wanting to
avoid any introductions but hoping to see the action he could make
fun of later.

“Actually,” Mahrree interrupted, “I think you
best just spend your time with Jaytsy. If Perrin’s not going to
dance, I hardly think he’ll be comfortable with me dancing with
anyone else.”

“Ah, Mother, what will you do all evening?”
Jaytsy asked.

“Watch you!” Mahrree said. “And every young
man who comes to The Dinner.”

Kuman bowed to Mahrree. “Very well, the young
lady it is.”

Jaytsy proved to be a quick study. So fast,
in fact, that Kuman was dancing elaborate steps with her by the
time the hour was over. At least one Shin would be socially
acceptable, Mahrree thought.

Before Kuman left he went to visit with his
sister Kindiri in the kitchen. As he went out the back door, he
called to Mahrree, “Should you change your mind, ma’am, I’ll be
happy to come back for you and the colonel. Perhaps the colonel
will have a change of heart, a new understanding of his true
duty?”

Mahrree chuckled a bit tensely. She wasn’t
sure if the man was sarcastic or truly misdirected. “I think he’ll
be wearing one of your gowns before that happens, but thank you
anyway.”

“And your gown will be ready before the big
day.” Kuman smiled politely and nodded his goodbye. “For the Shins,
I handle everything myself.”

Strangely, that statement didn’t strike
Mahrree as reassuring.

But other things worried her that afternoon,
especially as she looked at the extensive list they were about to
tackle that afternoon. Mahrree couldn’t help but wonder: where was
the food coming from for The Dinner?

Many items on the menu were easy enough to
get this time of year: veal, lamb, and pheasant. But others were
items normally seen only at harvest time: grapes, apples, and
squashes. And the fruits and vegetables weren’t just the dried
ones—one of the menu items called for pumpkin baked stew.

And for three hundred people?

Mahrree didn’t work up her courage to ask
until she and Joriana were preparing to walk to the first
bakery.

“Where does it all come from?” Joriana
repeated her question as she put on her wrap. “The garrison, of
course. You have a reserve at the fort, right?”

“Yes, but not of apples! Those are gone by
late Raining Season. We’re down to only wheat now.”

They left the kitchen through the middle back
door, Joriana slamming it repeatedly since it never seemed to latch
properly. Mahrree smirked to herself; it was good to see that even
the world’s second largest mansion had its little quirks.

“We have the most extensive reserve
anywhere,” Joriana told her as they walked. “The Administrators saw
to it. There’s even a large cooling area in a cellar that preserves
fruits and berries from one year until the next. They pack it with
ice and sawdust during the Raining Season and it keeps cool
throughout Weeding.”

“That’s . . . that’s remarkable,” Mahrree
said. “But that seems a bit much, doesn’t it? What’s the
purpose?”

“The purpose?” Joriana exclaimed. “To prove
that even in times of need, the Administrators can provide! That’s
one of the reasons why The Dinner is held early in Planting Season
when stores are usually low. It’s not just to commemorate the date
King Oren was deposed, but also to celebrate that we still have so
much, when with the kings we used to have so little.”

Mahrree thought for a moment. “How much grain
is there?”

“A full two years’ reserve for one thousand
people. Plus other essentials, like molasses, dried meats and
fruits, and so on,” Mrs. Shin said proudly.

“That’s impressive,” Mahrree said, her mind
figuring. “But not near enough for all of Idumea.”

“It’s not for Idumea,” Joriana said, nodding
to a few women passing them. “It’s for the Administrators, their
families, and the highest levels of the army.”

“Only for the leadership?” Mahrree felt a
knot in her stomach again. Those seemed to come with regularity
here.

“Of course. And those in the households,
naturally.”

“Why no one else?”

“‘In an emergency, you need to preserve the
hierarchy to prevent anarchy,’” she recited. “Giyak, the
Administrator of Security, came up with that little motto.”

Mahrree felt the knot tighten. “And because
it rhymes, it must have merit,” she murmured. “So the leadership
survives while the populace starves?”

Joriana furrowed her brow. “It’s not
that
harsh, Mahrree.”

“Could that reserve ever be used for someone
else?” Mahrree wondered. “Suppose a tragedy hit somewhere else, and
part of the reserve was needed—”

“I know where you are going with this: all
the way to Edge, aren’t you?”

“Mother Shin, we have five thousand people
who may need help just for a week or two. That would be only a
fraction of the reserves. Would the garrison let that go?”