“Who made this road?” Jon asked, sure she’d have no good answer.
“I don’t know. It’s always been here.”
“You’re not very curious, are you?”
He’d wanted to make Zoë angry, but her reaction wasn’t what he expected.
“You sound like John. He’s always saying things like that. But you’re both wrong. I am curious—only not about the past. It doesn’t matter to me who made this road, but it does matter that I know where it goes and how long it will take to get there.”
“Sometimes you understand the present by knowing its past.”
“John says the same thing. But I don’t need to know about the past of this trail. The Foresters must have made it a long time ago. There were more of us then—I told you that, didn’t I?—and so more people went places. And if it wasn’t the Foresters, then it was whoever lived here before us. You probably want to know who they were, and I’d be interested myself—but I wouldn’t work myself up about it, because, whoever they were, they’re gone now.
“But we’re just poking. You need to walk faster,” she added, picking up speed.
Traveling at her new rate precluded talk, but Jon refused to complain. Besides, his attention had gone elsewhere. As they descended, he was aware of many changes. The air grew sultry—it was like a weight pressing down on them—and under the forest canopy biting insects now swarmed around them.
“Quiet,” Zoë said, as Jon slapped a bug that was biting his arm. “You need to learn how to pass without a sound. You trample the ground like a bull. Watch the way I walk.”
Peter had said the same thing, but it infuriated Jon to hear Zoë repeat the message. Would she ever stop trying to push him around?
Toward afternoon they reached a spot where the stream cut through a hillock. Here, the path wound up to a rise where Jon caught his first sight of the Great River. He couldn’t see the road—it was blocked by forest—but he knew it was near. To his right, the stream dropped in rapids and disappeared under the trees; and across the river the hills Zoë had told him about rose, row after row, into the distance. The more the world unfolded, the more he longed to see, but beyond those hills lived the Brotherhood, and they were men Jon had no wish to encounter.
The trail angled down the eastern side of the hill in a line so straight it could only have been made by design. Then they reached the road. Before today, the River Road had been a name in Jon’s imagination—the way to freedom and the magic city of Kar. Now, it was a real road of dark stone, and, from the ruts, he saw it had been well used. Yet even these marks were old, for many stones were broken or moved apart, allowing weeds to grow in the crevices. A man driving a cart would have to be wary.
“Here we are,” Zoë announced. “If we walk south for a few miles we’ll meet the river. The road goes straight, but the river swings back and forth. Sometimes they’re close, sometimes distant.”
“So let’s go south.”
“That was my plan,” she said.
In another hour, the trees on their left thinned and they found themselves beside the river. Its bed was wide, but only a meager flow wound through it, separated into narrow channels. The bed itself was sand and gravel, with occasional clumps of summer vegetation and a few large stones. To Jon, it looked like a small river threading its way through the traces of a larger one.
“Can we go to the water?” he asked.
Zoë answered him by scrambling down the bank and crossing over the gravel to where water was flowing. Jon, who’d followed, reached down and touched it. The stream wasn’t as cold as he’d expected, and only inches deep.
“This is hardly a Great River,” he observed.
“You wouldn’t say that after heavy rain in the mountains—especially in the spring when the snow is melting. It was spring when I first saw the river, and the water reached almost to the top of the bank. If you’d tried to cross, even at the ford, you’d have been swept away. Not like today, when a child could walk safely from one side to the other.”
Then Zoë stopped talking and signed for Jon to be silent.
“I hear something,” she whispered. “Move over behind that rock.”
From their location, they could observe only a limited stretch of the road, but through the trees Jon made out a moving figure. Zoë must have perceived it as well, for she crouched and pulled him down beside her. In seconds, a man on horseback appeared, riding slowly and looking from side to side as if searching for someone. When he reached the spot where they’d climbed down the bank, he stopped and peered out over the riverbed.
“Shit,” Zoë whispered. “I forgot to cover our tracks. Don’t tell Mother.”
The rider dismounted and walked toward them. He was a short, dark-haired man with a beard and silver earrings—one of the Bearded Men, Jon was certain. Yet what was he doing here?
But then another rider appeared from the other direction. He called out to the first man, who turned back, mounted his horse, and rode off with him.
“What was that about?” Zoë asked.
“Beats me.”
“We’d better find out. We’re supposed to report what we see—that’s the reason we’re Foresters.”
“But your grandfather told us to keep out of danger, and it’s getting late,” Jon reminded her. “See how long the shadows are.”
He was proud of that observation. A month ago, he wouldn’t have noticed something like that. But Zoë quickly put him in his place.
“All the better to conceal us,” she said. “Let’s get going.”
Jon couldn’t help sensing Zoë’s excitement. He’d never seen her so intent on anything. She was a different person, and he liked that person better than the Zoë he was used to.
Returning stealthily to the road, they saw a group of men far ahead. Zoë darted across to the far side of the highway and began stealing forward among the shadows, with Jon behind her, copying her every move.
Closing in on the men, Jon counted eleven circling a fallen figure and heard their voices loud and clear.
“He won’t try to run away again, I’ll wager.”
“He won’t be able to.”
“Did you really have to do that?”
“The new boys needed a lesson.”
“We can’t leave him here. He’s barely alive.”
“Of course we can’t leave him. The point is to bring him back and show the kids what happens to anyone who tries running away. He may not survive, but that doesn’t matter.”
Jon found himself trembling. Surely it was one of the boys from the Valley of Women they were talking about. He reached for the knife on his belt and took a deep breath.
Zoë put her hand on Jon’s arm. “There’s nothing we can do,” she said in a low voice. “Remember, our job is to report what’s happening, and we two couldn’t handle so many men.”
Strange, he thought, that she was the one who’d wanted to come here, when he’d have been happy to avoid the Bearded Men, but now he was the one she had to restrain. Yet wouldn’t it have been like his striking Piers—not bravery but foolhardiness? Zoë, he had to admit, could control her impulses, while he had yet to master his. He hated her bossiness, but she was preparing to be a leader, while he’d told the women he’d never wanted to be one?
Two of the men slung a body over one of the horses, revealing the victim’s face. It was Tug—the boy who’d collected birds’ eggs. He couldn’t have been with the Brotherhood more than a few weeks, and already he’d tried to run. Jon had taken it for granted that he’d easily escape them, but he’d been wrong. Seeing Tug’s limp body, he felt he was going to throw up, but Zoë clutched his arm more tightly.
“Is he dead?” Jon whispered.
“I don’t know. I didn’t see any blood.”
“Me neither, but you can kill a person without shedding blood.”
“Do you know who it was?”
“A boy named Tug. The most harmless guy you’d ever want to know. A real sweetheart.”
&nb
sp; The men in black mounted and rode away, while Jon and Zoë stood in silence, watching them fade from sight.
▲
That night, they slept above the road. It was the possibility Jon had worried about. In the valley, the boys talked about what they’d do with women. Did Zoë expect anything like that from him? Surely not. And Helen had assumed there’d be nothing wrong with their traveling together. The Foresters thought differently about sex than they did in the Valley of Women, he’d already decided.
“Jon,” she said, as they lay near one another in the darkness. “It wasn’t wrong for you to want to help that boy. I felt the same way.”
“But you had the sense to control yourself.”
Zoë was silent for a moment.
“You can only learn to control yourself when you have something to control. You’re a man, Jon, and men have strong impulses.”
What was she getting at?
“I knew you were a man the first day I saw you. I called you a boy, but I knew you were a man. Remember when I watched you at the pool?”
Jon made an affirmative grunt.
“You’re still mad about that, aren’t you?”
Jon wasn’t sure how to respond to the question.
“It didn’t mean anything, you know,” Zoë continued.
“You were just trying to find out if I was the right one—the one John had told you to look for.”
“Yes, that’s it exactly. I wanted to see if you were wearing that stone thing he gave you. I don’t know what to call it.”
Then, after another silence, she continued.
“Even though you’re skinny, you’re a nice looking fellow—I don’t have to tell you that. But I don’t want you to think there was anything else I was interested in.”
“I never thought . . .”
“That’s good. It was John who was looking for you, not me.”
And so his question was answered. Yet why had it taken her until now to say these things? Was it because they’d just shared an experience of human brutality? And was that what it took to make people honest with one other?
▲
The next morning, instead of heading south, Jon and Zoë returned to the Forest House, and when a path from the North joined theirs, Jon saw that others had been this way after they’d passed yesterday. Zoë looked carefully at the signs and then quickened her pace.
“Who is it?” Jon asked.
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
Reaching the clearing, Jon looked up the slope and saw three men with Helen on the porch and a third pony eating grass with the other animals.
“My brothers have returned,” Zoë announced and ran forward to greet them. Jon felt his heart racing. Everything was about to change.
Chapter Six
Jon stayed back while Zoë ran to greet her brothers. For weeks, he’d been anticipating John’s return, but now the prospect frightened him. So much could go wrong. What if John resented Jon’s intrusion into his family? Surely it wasn’t what he’d intended. For the first time since he’d reached the Forest House, Jon felt himself an outsider. Best, he told himself, to disappear. It wasn’t too late to slip back into the forest. He knew the way to the road; heading north, he’d find other people, work for food, and eventually make his way to Kar. But then a figure separated itself from the group on the hill. The impulse to flee passed. John hadn’t forgotten him after all.
“Welcome,” John called out, striding toward him. “Welcome to my home.” For a moment Jon thought that John was going to embrace him, but at the last minute he simply grasped his hand. “I was sure you’d come. I told my brothers you’d be here when we returned. Neither believed me—they never do. Brothers are like that. But I was sure—and I was right.”
Despite the tumult of assurances, Jon realized the man was nervous—perhaps more nervous than Jon himself.
“You were sure?” he asked.
John paused, pulling himself together.
“I told you the way, didn’t I? When the weather cleared, it was either come here or wait for the Brotherhood. What else could you do? I’d hoped to be at the Forest House to greet you, but we had to go to Bridgetown, so I asked Zoë to watch for you. And Mother and Aunt Ethel have already dressed you as a Forester! They’ve even cut your hair. I loved your long black hair—I mean it’s the way I remembered you. The way it hid your face , , , I wish they’d waited . . . But you’re one of us now, aren’t you? That’s what counts.”
Looking down, John realized he was still holding Jon’s hand and released it quickly.
“But you must meet my brothers Karl and David,” he said. “I’ve told them how you saved my life in the Valley of Women. They’re both eager to see you.”
Then, with his hand on Jon’s shoulder, he led him up to the house. Jon would have to set the story straight, he told himself. His silence may have helped John escape the valley, but it was absurd to speak of saving his life.
“Karl, here’s my friend Jon from the Valley of Women,” John announced. “The boy with my name—only he spells it differently.”
Karl cast his eyes over Jon. “This is the boy who saw you?” he asked. “I thought he’d be different. Like you said, he’s tall, but he doesn’t look strong.”
John glanced reassuringly at Jon before he replied.
“Why do you make such a point of physical strength, Karl? Jon’s intelligent—anyone can see that—and he’s not a boy anymore. I may have called him that, but we met almost a year ago. Since then, he’s become a man. And intelligence is a hundred times more valuable than strength.”
Karl gave John a contemptuous look.
“Not when it comes to defending yourself.”
“Especially when it comes to defending yourself, Brother.”
Karl was a wall of a man, while John was built like Jon. Indeed, Jon looked more like John’s brother than Karl did.
“He’s strong enough for me,” David interjected. “I’m David,” he added, shaking Jon’s hand. “The middle brother—neither strong like Karl nor intelligent like John. But I’m glad to meet you. What do you think of our place? It must be a change from the Valley of Women.”
But John spoke before Jon could reply to the question.
“I never said I was intelligent, David. And I didn’t mean to suggest that Karl was stupid. I only meant to say that brains are better than brawn, and there’s nothing original about that observation.”
David smiled.
“Nothing original, perhaps, but you wouldn’t have repeated it if you hadn’t gotten it into your head that you had brains yourself.”
Karl snorted.
“He’s got you there, John. Getting it into your head pretty much describes the way you think—one idea flies in and another flies out. If that’s your idea of intelligence, I prefer common sense.”
Jon expected John to be angry, but instead he grinned.
“You see how my brothers gang up on me, Jon. But it takes both of them, notice. I can handle either one by himself, but together they’re almost my match. Almost, mind you, but not quite.”
David was amused by John’s response, but Karl drew back and raised his nostrils.
Zoë turned to Jon.
“I hope this gives you a taste of what I put up with. They’re always going at each other, first one and then the other. And it was even worse when they were younger.”
“How can you say that, Zoë?” John asked. “Maybe we only go at each other when we have an audience. Alone, we get along like peaches and cream. Tell her that, Karl. She’ll question me, but she’ll believe what you tell her. She knows you’d never joke about serious matters.”
But Karl had exhausted his allotment of humor.
“We’ve had our laugh, John,” he said. “Now there’s important business. Zoë had just begun to describe an encounter with the Brotherhood on the River Road.”
John grew earnest.
“The Brotherhood? You and Zoë saw them in our territory? What were they d
oing?”
Since the questions appeared to be addressed to him, Jon had to answer them.
“Yes, we saw them,” he said. “But Zoë will tell you about it.”
“We should go inside to listen to what Jon and Zoë have to say,” Helen observed. “This is a matter for deliberation. Father and Ethel will want to hear Jon and Zoë, and of course they’ll expect to learn about your journey to Bridgetown, Karl—Father, especially. He’s been concerned about the three of you.”
▲
Seated at the long table, their discussion assumed a formal tone. Peter began by asking Zoë to report what she and Jon had seen on the road. Jon listened carefully to Zoë’s account. She offered details about the weapons and horses of the Bearded Men that he hadn’t noticed; it made him resolve to be more observant in the future.
“Do you have anything to add?” Peter asked him when Zoë had finished speaking.
“Nothing, sir. She told you exactly what took place. And she was right about Tug. We couldn’t tell if he was dead or simply unconscious, but whatever happened was awful.”
John, who’d sat next to Jon, leaned toward him and spoke in a low voice.
“It’s what I told you,” he said. “To be in the hands of the Brotherhood is a fate to be avoided at all cost.”
“What are you saying?” Peter asked.
“John is just telling him about the Brotherhood, Papa,” Ethel explained.
“Yes, Grandfather. I was telling Jon that the Brotherhood are dangerous.”
“Still, I can’t believe they’d do something like that on the River Road,” David said. “Have they lost respect for Imperial law? An Emperor gave them their land. Don’t they know that another one could take it away?”
“People like that have no sense of loyalty,” Karl replied. “You and John treat those fools as a joke, and I’ll admit that men with tattoos and jewelry look ridiculous. But what Zoë saw proves they’ve become dangerous. And the changes seem part of a bigger picture. To answer David’s last question, they may indeed no longer fear the Emperor.”
“What do you mean?” Peter asked. “Are you saying that Zoë and Jon’s story isn’t unexpected?”
The Flight from Kar (The Emperor's Library Page 9
