From their faces, Jon saw that this news was grave indeed. Peter stood up and walked to the front door where he looked out in silence. Then he turned back toward the table.
“So, what do you propose we do?” he asked.
“I propose to do nothing—at least for the present time,” Karl answered. “We’ll take up these matters when we meet with the other families at the Mountain House. This isn’t a problem for us alone, Grandfather, but one for all the Foresters.”
“Karl is right,” John added. “I wish there were something we could do right away, but it would be foolish to act on our own.”
“Then we’ll wait until we reach the Mountain House,” his grandfather said.
▲
Their council over, the family went separate ways, leaving Jon alone at the far end of the long table. He’d hoped John would stay behind, but instead John spoke briefly to his aunt and then went out the back door. Sitting alone in the growing darkness, Jon contemplated the circumstances in which he now found himself. Escaping the Bearded Men turned out to have been no escape after all. Compared to their adversaries, the Foresters seemed hopelessly outnumbered. Five times the Forest House family made thirty-five; and, even if the other Forester families were larger, the total could not have been high—a hundred or so at the most, but probably fewer. Assuming only a fraction of the Brotherhood made the annual journey to Bent Lake, they must have numbered many more than that. And Karl had counted the Chosen in the hundreds of thousands. Together with the Brotherhood—he must remember to use that name—they constituted a foe against whom the Foresters could do little. Perhaps it would have been safer for him to have remained in the Valley of Women. But that had never been an option, and if the Brotherhood were players in some larger scheme, then the Valley of Women was no refuge. The women were prepared for a siege, but not a siege by thousands. Lyla must have had that in mind when she said that the women were not as safe as they supposed.
Eventually he heard someone walking toward him across the rear porch. He hoped it would be John, but it turned out to be Zoë.
“Why are you sitting in the dark?” she asked in her old brusque tone, but then she caught herself and continued in a gentler way.
“It must be awkward for you—the return of my brothers, I mean. And I heard what Karl said about your not being strong. But he’s wrong. I’ve watched you. When you first came that might have been true, but you’ve begun to change. I guess you never had a chance to use your body in the Valley of Women. If it was like you said, the women assumed all the work and there was nothing for the boys to do but wander around poking into things. Anyway, I want you to know that I’ve watched you. You had trouble at first, but you learned quickly. Now, it’s as if I had a fourth brother.”
There was more to a boy’s life in the valley than poking into things. The ones who played games and fought with one another were muscular enough, even though they did nothing you could call work. But he was grateful to Zoë for what she’d said.
“Thanks,” he told her. “You’re the only family I’ve ever had.”
“It’s nothing but the truth.”
She walked to the cabinet and took a lamp from the shelf, which she lit and placed near the center of the table.
“You know, you’ve changed, too.” Jon said.
“What do you mean?” she asked, genuinely interested.
“It happened when we saw the Brotherhood. We’d been poking into things like I used to do in the Valley of Women. But when you saw the men, you became a different person. Suddenly, you had a purpose.”
“I always have a purpose . . . no, I shouldn’t say that. To be honest, I often wander in circles, poking around, like you said.”
Jon saw her relief in making this admission. She’d been wound like a spring since yesterday. Now her whole body seemed to relax.
“But I know what you mean about my changing,” Zoë continued. “When we saw those men, I thought it might be a test. Mother had talked about a test for women Foresters, and I didn’t want to fail it.
“It wasn’t the real thing—a test, that is—or at least one meant for me. Still, I’d never seen anything like what they did. And you heard what my brothers told us. Taken together, it can only mean that something wonderful is about to happen.”
The adjective took Jon by surprise.
“Wonderful?”
“Maybe that’s not the right word. But everything has been the same all my life—summer in the forest, winter at the Mountain House with the families—you’ll discover what that’s like soon enough—the identical routine year after year, with no chance to do anything wonderful. There’s that word again, and it’s still wrong, but I can’t come up with a better way to say what I mean.
“It’s not that I don’t admire Helen and Ethel—they’re great. But I want to matter in the world—to be a serious person. Perhaps that’s the right word—serious. Until two days ago, there was nothing serious in my life, but then I watched them kill a person—or at least almost kill him—and I knew I had to do something about that. Not today, but tomorrow or a day not far in the future. And when it comes I’ll have to use every ounce of courage I possess. That’s what I mean by being serious—not being afraid to risk myself for the right cause.
“And then today Karl and John talked about the Chosen murdering husbands and sons, and, even though we may not have put it into words, we agreed we must stop them—and that we includes you, Jon, if you stay with us. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I think I do.”
“Still, what will happen’s a mystery.”
“Isn’t the future always a mystery?”
“I guess so. And it frightens me to think about it, but it also makes me impatient to begin.”
“To begin?” he asked.
“To begin my new life—my life that will matter.”
Suddenly a third voice entered the conversation.
“Your life has always mattered, Zoë.”
It was John, who’d moved silently into the room from behind them. Before he spoke, not even Zoë had been aware of his presence. She’d been right about his stealth.
“But can you be sure it’s always mattered to me?” she asked.
“That’s a difficult question.”
“No, it’s not. A life doesn’t matter because the people who’re used to you would be inconvenienced if you wandered off. It matters because you’re able to make an impact on the world, and, John, you can’t tell me I’ve made an impact on the world.”
“It depends on what you call the world. If you mean us—Jon and me—then you’ve had a strong impact. Wouldn’t you agree, Jon?”
But Zoë replied before Jon could answer the question.
“I don’t mean Jon and you. I mean people I’ve never seen.”
John folded his arms and cocked his head.
“You expect a lot of yourself,” he observed.
“Is there anything wrong with that?”
“No, there’s nothing wrong with that, Little Sister.”
Zoë started to say something, but stopped herself.
“John,” she said slowly. “Did it ever occur to you that you say things you don’t mean?”
“Of course I do. I enjoy saying things I don’t mean. What’s the use of talking, if you can’t say things you don’t mean? The purpose of words isn’t to tell the truth; it’s to hide it.”
Zoë looked at him without a trace of amusement.
“You shouldn’t talk nonsense in front of Jon. He has a high opinion of you, you know.”
“Does he? I hope so. And I have a high opinion of him as well.”
“How can you say that?” Jon asked, captured by Zoë’s earnestness. “You hardly know me. We’ve never spoken together more than a few minutes.”
John was clearly taken aback.
“I guess not. And I guess I don’t know my sister either—but that never stops me from saying what pops into my head. Didn’t you hear David say so this very a
fternoon? But every family needs a crazy guy, don’t you agree?”
“I keep thinking that it could have been me,” Jon said, ignoring John’s last remark. “If those men had taken me, I would have tried to run away like Tug. I know I would have. I’d assured myself I’d be able to do it. And if they’d captured me . . .”
John, too, became sober.
“Yes. What happened to Tug would have happened to you. That’s why I came to warn you.”
“But you couldn’t have expected to find me.”
“It was an impulse. I was looking at the valley from above. I’d done it before, but that day I decided to climb down and get a closer look. I knew it was possible—Grandfather had told me that. And he’d said it wasn’t, strictly speaking, forbidden, but it was dangerous. Of course the warning had only made me want to try the descent, and the day seemed right, but I had no idea you’d be there waiting for me.”
Zoë looked at John quizzically. Even she must have been surprised by his declaration. Jon, for his part, found it embarrassing.
“You make everything sound as if I were part of a plan,” he said. “But it was really an accident, wasn’t it? You were hiding, but I happened to see you, because you must have assumed no one else would be there.”
This time it was John’s turn to look puzzled. Surely he knew Jon wasn’t telling the precise truth, but did he realize that Jon was trying to corroborate what John had told his family? All Jon could make out was a hint of surprise in his response.
“Yes. I guess it was only an accident,” John said. “But life is made out of accidents. To succeed, you have to learn to make the best of them. You might say you have to imagine them parts of a plan.”
“That’s what I was telling Jon before you came in,” Zoë said. “Things are happening that we don’t understand. We can sit back and do nothing, or we can take fate into our own hands.”
“Do you call waiting to confer with the other families sitting back and doing nothing?”
“What else is it?”
“I’d call it common sense.”
“But you know they’ll talk endlessly and never reach a decision—except the decision to put off action.”
“You may be right about the talk, but the Foresters aren’t afraid of danger.”
“They’re not afraid of danger, but they’re afraid of changing their lives.”
“Why does it necessarily mean changing our lives?”
“If the Emperor turns his back on the Southland, then what’s our purpose? For two years running we haven’t received a payment from him. There’s money in the treasury—it’s been accumulating for centuries—but it won’t last forever.”
“Yes, I’ve thought about that. Karl and David and I talked about little else on our return from Bridgetown.”
“So what did you decide?”
“You heard Karl. It’s not for us to make a decision.”
“See,” she answered defiantly.
“I think it’s the right choice.”
“To refer the decision to people who can’t make up their minds—and miss our great chance?”
“Our great chance? What are you talking about?”
“Our chance to make a difference in the world.”
John spoke in measured words.
“I know what you’re thinking, Zoë—that there might be some better way for us to live. I’ve had that thought many times.”
“Did you happen to mention that possibility to Karl and David?”
“Karl wouldn’t understand, and he’d find the my nurturing the idea a sign of weakness. David wouldn’t react that way—he’d be sympathetic—but he’d find the prospect of change frightening.”
“And so you’re going to leave the decision to Karl and David and the others who share their fears and prejudices?”
“I only said I thought the Foresters should have an open discussion before they commit to a decision. And please note, I didn’t say I’d agree with that decision—especially if it’s a decision not to act.”
“What will you do if it’s a decision not to act?” Jon asked.
“Yes, what will you do?” Zoë added, glancing approvingly at Jon.
“I don’t know,” John said. “But I’ll do something. I promise both of you.”
Zoë held her head high as she responded to her brother.
“And it’s a promise I’ll hold you to, John. Don’t forget that.”
Chapter Seven
Summer passed into autumn, and all helped in the harvest, but usually at least one and sometimes all three brothers were away. Since Jon and Zoë’s encounter with the Brotherhood, they’d watched the River Road, but they also monitored the rest of their territory. Karl took Jon and Zoë with him on a trek along the flank of the western mountains. Jon knew he’d included him because Peter had insisted on it, and Karl had largely ignored him the entire journey, except when he reprimanded him for making unnecessary noise. Once, lost in thought, Jon had begun humming the song Ethel and Helen had sung. He’d forgotten the words, but the tune had stuck; hearing him, Karl had stopped in his tracks.
“Can’t you keep quiet?” he’d asked angrily.
Yes, they were supposed to walk in silence, Jon thought. But in the middle of nowhere did it really matter?
Another time, Zoë and David went off together, and Jon hoped that John would take the occasion to invite him on a journey, but no invitation came. While John warmed to him in the presence of others, alone with Jon he found excuses to be somewhere else. It was as if he were two different men.
As the nights lengthened, Jon expected the rain to begin, as it had in the Valley of Women; and it did rain more frequently here—but not the day-in, day-out rain he associated with winter. There were occasional cloudy but dry days and once in a while even a shred of blue in the sky. The difference might have had to do with the mountains, he speculated, but, whatever the cause, it made the Foresters’ valley a better place to live.
Near the end of the second month of autumn, Peter announced that the time had come to leave for the Mountain House. Under Ethel’s supervision, they packed what they needed to carry and sealed the rest in a storeroom so cunningly hidden that its existence surprised Jon. These preparations complete, they rose early the next morning, loaded the ponies, and set out. At first, they traveled east, taking the route Jon had taken with Zoë, but then they turned north and, after crossing a ridge, entered a second valley much like the one they’d left. Here, they camped for the night and resumed their journey the following morning. Crossing a second, steeper ridge, they reached a third valley, where patches of the lower forest had been cleared for grazing and agriculture. Below, where a stream joined the river, Jon saw a village of tightly arranged houses.
He asked Zoë if that was where they were going.
“No, but the Mountain House isn’t far now. The village by the river is Pex. You must remember my brothers talking about it. Do you see where the land is cleared on the ridge to the north? That’s where we’re going.”
“I should have recognized Pex from its wall,” he said.”
A year ago, he might not have paid attention to these details. Now, trained as a Forester, he was drawing a mental map of their journey. Having circled the valley head, he saw that they were traveling toward the cleared land Zoë had pointed out, and he also saw that beyond it lay a sprawling wooden building, so much like the surrounding rocks in color that it seemed part of the mountain.
“The Mountain House?” he asked.
“What else?” Zoë replied.
The sky had been overcast their entire journey, but now it darkened and the rain began, first in fine droplets, then in a steady, heavier fall. Lowering their heads, they hurried forward, urging the ponies to move faster.
They were greeted by other Foresters, who helped unload the ponies and carry their packs inside. Amidst the bustle, no one asked Jon to help and even Zoë, caught up with old friends, ignored him. So he stood apart and watched the goings on. But
then a young man who’d passed him several times came over.
“I’m Tomas,” he said, “and you’re Jon, I think—the stranger who just arrived with the southwest family. We’ve begun to gather for the evening meal, and I thought you might like to join us.”
Jon agreed—what else could he do?—and followed Tomas to the dining hall, where they joined a group sitting at one of three long tables. How alike the faces appeared, Jon thought, and Tomas himself looked a bit like John, but without John’s air of intelligence.
“You know, you’re the first person I’ve ever seen here who’s not a Forester,” Tomas said. “Not that you’re unwelcome. You look like us, you know. No outsider would think you were a stranger. If I didn’t know the five families by sight, I’d have taken it for granted you belonged here.”
“You speak too quickly,” an old man across the table interrupted, eyeing Jon. “He may look like a Forester, he’s not one.”
“Yes. I’d heard that Peter had taken in an alien. This will have to be brought up at the Council.” The woman who spoke didn’t appear unfriendly, but she, too, studied Jon closely.
But then Helen appeared.
“I’ve been looking for you, Jon. But I see you’ve been making friends.”
She smiled at Tomas, patting him on the head. They were evidently on good terms.
“That’s what I hoped you’d do, Jon,” she continued. “Stay here, but find us later. Each family has its own quarters.”
Jon wished she’d taken him away, but he had no choice but to remain with Tomas. The dinner was long, and accompanied by much noise and laughter, with people moving about to speak with friends. Once he’d learned where Jon was from, Tomas bombarded him with questions about the Valley of Women, and Jon offered fragmentary accounts of his life there—carefully saying little about himself. The others listened, adding a few questions, but then the topic changed and finally Tomas himself left, explaining that there was a girl he wanted to see. But by then, people were beginning to leave the room.
The Flight from Kar (The Emperor's Library Page 11
