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

sustained. Together they moved the injured to the
safety of their front gardens, where neighbors attended to them
until a village doctor could be located.
    Mahrree acquired more volunteers as they
progressed—people frantic to do something, and even more frantic
for someone to tell them what that something was—and by midday meal
time a large section of the north of Edge had been evaluated,
rescued, and secured.
    But Mahrree didn’t feel triumphant; only
stunned. Hour after hour the enormity of this new reality sank in,
weighing her down as if a boulder had been strapped to her back.
She and her children walked carefully around each house, inspected
each garden and road, and made crude maps on the paper. The number
of new steam vents and cracks were startling. It seemed no road was
void of new topography.
    A few times Mahrree looked in the direction
of the forest and wondered what was happening there. If it was
inhospitable before, the forest might be impenetrable now. She saw
new steam vents and smoke rising from areas that had been
previously inactive. That could mean a variety of things: whoever
might still be lurking there may now be dead, or moved on
elsewhere, or were forced into the village to take refuge . . .
    Once, Mahrree ventured a look at Mt. Deceit,
the tallest peak down the range of jagged mountains that served as
the northern border to the world. It was still intact, which she
assumed meant it hadn’t yet “awakened” as the prophecy said, but
from its snow-covered top rose a steady stream of steam or smoke,
she couldn’t discern which. There were very few trees up there, so
it couldn’t be another fire like the one that burned parts of the
forest decades ago.
    After a few seconds of watching it and
fretting uselessly about what it could mean, she gulped and turned
back to her task of mapping a new gap in the ground that was the
width of her hand and several paces long.
    As they worked that morning, Mahrree wondered
if what Jaytsy had hoped for yesterday might not have come to pass,
if maybe the rest of the world might be jarred back to some sense
of thought again.
    But why would a mere land tremor change
anything, she cynically thought. Witness this morning: no one even
tried to think of what to do for themselves, but clustered around
anyone they assumed had some authority. And trusting whomever they
thought had power was far more dangerous than acting for
themselves.
    But no one in Edge or anywhere else would
ever believe that, because no one believed anything anymore. They
just existed , waiting for the next entertainment or the next
line of goods to come from Idumea. Edge, along with the world, had
grown willfully stupid.
    And as she moved from house to house, she saw
further evidence of that. People sat on their front gardens weeping
and not working. Others rushed into their creaking houses to
retrieve useless trinkets and clothing that were more valuable to
them than their lives.
    And everywhere villagers were whining about
why the commander of the fort hadn’t yet come by to personally
rescue them.
    To each complainer Mahrree said, “He’s
rescuing someone else right now. You’re not hurt, so get up and
help your neighbor who is!”
    Horses and wagons from the fort speeding to
the center of Edge passed the Shins frequently. Mahrree recognized
Major Karna as he led the fire brigades back and forth, and she
wished she could stop him and ask what was happening. The smell of
fire was undeniable and the family tried not to think about whom it
may be affecting or where their husband and father were.
    In a small, sinister way that she was ashamed
about, Mahrree rather hoped some of the finer shops were burning to
the ground. At least those with an extraneous p or e somewhere. Maybe if Edgers did without their luxuries for a few
weeks, they’d realize the luxuries never brought them happiness,
but only a temporary euphoria of having got something. Then they’d
have to get something again for the