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

well.”
    Jaytsy exhaled loudly. “It’s not like I want
everyone punished, Mother! Just . . . make them awake, that’s
all.”
    “But Jayts, some people can be as impossible
to wake up as our Peto here,” Perrin told her, hoping to lighten
the moment.
    “Father, I have to tell you,” Peto said
gulping down the last bits on his plate, “most of the time when you
try to wake me, I’m just ignoring you.”
    Mahrree sighed again. “That’s exactly what
the world does—ignores the problems. No amount of shaking can fix
that, I fear.”
     
     
     
    Chapter 2 ~ “Did something happen?”

     
    T he last thing
Mahrree remembered was Perrin snoring. It was still dark but dawn
must’ve been coming soon. The air just had that kind of feel to it.
She sighed and wondered how long her husband would continue
imitating the noisy forest. She tried rolling him, but never had
much success in budging the man that weighed twice as much as
her.
    It was only because she utterly adored and
loved the swoon-worthy man, who was usually the most perfect
husband in the world, that she didn’t hit him over the head with
the rod of iron she kept by her side of their massive bed in an
effort to silence him so she could get some uninterrupted
slumber.
    Random thoughts went through her mind as she
tried to drift back to sleep. Things to clean. Things to cook.
Things to tell her husband. Things to tell her mother. Things to
tell her children. Things to tell her students . . .
    Ugh.
    Her students.
    Now she definitely wasn’t going to get to
sleep. Whenever her collection of twenty rowdy teenagers invaded
her mind, she found herself tensing up in frustration. They caused
nearly as much damage in her brain as they did in the village.
    It wasn’t as if the Shins needed the silver
slips she was paid; they always went straight down into the cellar,
along with extra slips Perrin earned that they also didn’t spend.
Mahrree became the “special cases” teacher when Peto was five and
she learned Idumea would never allow parents to be their children’s
teachers. At least the commander’s wife could give him leads on
which students seemed overly tired in the mornings after nights of
thieving, and she could also keep in touch with her children’s
education.
    Mahrree sighed as she looked up at the
ceiling timbers; Perrin’s snoring had developed a goose-like
honking quality, which meant silence was about another thirty
minutes away, so until then she had nothing else to do but fret
about her students. The Instruction Department’s annual exam would
be at the end of Planting Season, just a few weeks away. How the
boys performed would dictate the rest of their lives, yet she
couldn’t get them to fully grasp that.
    Those who tested well could apply to a
university and train to become just about anything: doctor, law
assessor, university professor, Command School officer, or,
laughably, an assistant to an Administrator.
    Average scores on the exam meant an average
job as well, not requiring excessive intelligence but the ability
to learn a trade such as blacksmithing, farming, weaving,
teaching—although don’t ask Mahrree her opinion of that mid-range
designation which was also the same level as a mere performer —or soldiering.
    The lowest scores meant one’s job in life
would be nothing more invigorating than removing rubbish, digging
ditches, or, disturbingly, also becoming a soldier.
    That had irked Perrin to no end. The worst
students could still join the army? The assumption that rebellious
teenagers suddenly turned into obedient young adults when they
stepped into a fort baffled both of them.
    Perrin and Mahrree pushed their children to
perform well enough on the final exams so that they could decide
their own futures, as students used to until the Administrators
stepped in to make better decisions for everyone.
    Frequently Perrin and Mahrree grumbled that
soon Idumea would dictate what they should eat for every meal so as
to control