Free The Mansions of Idumea (Book 3 Forest at the Edge series) by Trish Mercer

hold or they look shaky, obviously don’t go in! That’s when we’ll get the soldiers to help.”
    The neighbors gaped at her, some in surprise,
some in doubt, and some in fear. But then again, she was married to the Commander of Edge, the authority of the village,
which perhaps meant she also had some authority . . .
    “If you find any wounded,” she continued
loudly, which she had discovered was a good cover for fear, “lay
them in the front gardens, so we can tend to them safely until the
doctors can be found. We also need to keep watch for looters, so
for every three or four houses someone should stay outside to watch
for trouble. Patrol the area as the soldiers do, checking front and
back gardens for movement. Anyone who can be spared will come with
us to complete our survey of the neighborhoods. If we break up into
several small groups, we can cover much more territory. Record all
damage and injuries on these pages,” she held them out to stunned
villagers who automatically took whatever was shoved into their
hands, “and once the soldiers arrive, give them the lists so they
can see the most pressing needs.”
    The ideas flowed effortlessly into her mind,
which she knew meant she was inspired by the Creator. She was never
that direct on her own.
    Mr. Mang puffed up his chest, apparently
unsure if following the orders of a woman was the right thing to
do. “I’m going to the fort to get help, now!”
    Mahrree stepped up to him and wished she had
a box to stand on to look him straight in the eye. Instead, she
practiced her newest How to Intimidate Like Perrin strategy.
    After she’d mastered an imitation of his
command voice, he’d started a new trick: raising one eyebrow at his
wife in challenge as if to say, Oh really? Mahrree had
practiced trying to do that for hours as she stared into the small
mirror in her bedroom. She’d hold down one eyebrow to get the other
to rise upwards. At most she could manage a scowling look that gave
the appearance of trying to launch an errant bedbug from her
eyebrow.
    But it was the best she could do, and she
pulled it out of her meager arsenal now.
    “Mr. Mang, do you smell smoke?” Her eyebrows
moved in some sort of way. “Because I do. It’s coming from the
center of the village. If you turn around you’ll see a plume rising
and growing larger. That’s a fire, and it’s spreading. The village
green tower probably has its yellow banner up, if it isn’t already
burned to the ground. And I see orange banners calling for help at
every tower. That fire will come to our neighborhood if every last
soldier isn’t put to work on it. It would cause more destruction
than this land tremor. Mr. Mang, do you really want to pull
the soldiers away from that fire?”
    Living almost sixteen years with an officer
had rubbed off on her. If only women were allowed to be in the
army, Mahrree was confident she could’ve made general by now.
    Mr. Mang stared at Mahrree and her wiggling
face, then glanced at the neighbors surrounding him.
    None of them suggested an answer, but waited
for his response. Who else was there to take orders from?
    He released a deep breath before he said,
“Mrs. Shin, where do you want me to begin?”
    Oh yes. General indeed. That’s why women
weren’t allowed to vote, run for magistrate, or be in the army,
she’d concluded long ago. Women like her, who could suck down their
private fears and put on public bravery, could take over the world.
She wished she’d thought to take Perrin’s long knife out of the
table in the eating room drawer. It would have looked impressive
with its handle poking out of the top of her skirt.
    But then again, in sixteen years she’d never
dared touch it because she was all talk and no substance.
Fortunately, only she knew that.
    For the next several hours Mahrree, Jaytsy,
and Peto, along with several other villagers, plodded from house to
house recording who was there, who was injured, and what kind of
damage had been