The Flight from Kar (The Emperor's Library

by Frederick Kirchhoff

  No wonder there were so few of them. Among the women in the Valley of Women, a handful had physical defects, but they were part of the community. He hadn’t noticed anyone like that among the Foresters, but he’d assumed it reflected their physical superiority—weren’t they always talking about that?—but now he knew the real explanation.

  “It doesn’t bother you, does it?” Zoë asked.

  “Like you said, it’s something new. I don’t know what I think.”

  He wanted to ask if Zoë had had brothers or sisters they’d disposed of in this way, but it didn’t seem like a fair question. Perhaps the Foresters only acted like the rest of humanity. Certainly he had much to learn about the world.

  And so he retreated to the library. After the first weeks, other men and women came and went from time to time, but never for very long and Jon would often spend whole days reading without interruption, and so he came to regard the library as his private domain. He read faster now. He was looking for a reliable geography, but found none, so the best he could do was construct an image of the planet from what the travel books offered. The Empire, he learned, was only one corner of a vast landmass, and Gort was but one of the Eastern cities that rivaled Kar in wealth and power. Peter had been right. Once merchant caravans had crossed the continent. Why no one now used those routes was never specified, although Jon did come across a reference to the increased dangers of land travel to Gort and another to “Audrius’ lost party, set upon by the Wild Men.” But who Audrius was and when and where his party had been set upon went unspecified.

  It was also possible to reach Gort by sea, but the voyage was long and dangerous, since stretches of the coastline were infested with pirates. Ships from Tarnak were more likely to trade among the band of islands that spread north into the Equatorial Sea; and some even sailed as far as the southernmost point of a continent in the Northern Hemisphere, but the reports of this region were hearsay, since none of the writers Jon encountered had journeyed this far. Two, however, referred to a city called Dron, with walls of black stone, and both agreed that the men of Dron made glass as strong as steel and as clear as water. One wrote that they were able to cut the glass only with something they called electrum, which the people of Dron also used to illuminate their streets, but little else was known about Dron, save that it had a quarter reserved for foreigners and any who ventured beyond it were summarily executed.

  Finishing off the books on travel, he’d found an account of the principles of mathematics, which opened a new realm of thought. He wished he could have shared it with Alf, who’d have been fascinated by what it revealed about the universe. And then he moved on to history and began to piece together a picture of the past. Most of the books offered accounts of emperors and the events of their reigns. Dull stuff, much of it. But a few also addressed an earlier time, retelling the story of warring cities and the alliances that enabled one to gain temporary hegemony, only to be overthrown by an upstart rival. And the appendix of one book summarized folklore about the beings who lived here before these events, including legends of men who could move stones with their minds and speak to one another over vast distances, powers attributed to their discovering “the secrets of the First Men.” They’d lived in peace for centuries, but then something happened. “Their will failed them” was the explanation—but what did that mean? “Their will failed them and so most destroyed one another, while the rest gave themselves over to dreaming.” This was the only history that offered a clue to the scattered relics of an earlier civilization—including, Jon suspected, his own broken arrowhead—but the book’s author had relegated the material to an appendix, thus acknowledging its dubious nature.

  So once again Jon found himself facing the question of how much he could actually believe. In this respect the history books were not unlike the travelers’ tales. It wasn’t merely the giant fish or the impossible victories; it was the way stories tied events into neat packages. Whatever adversity they’d faced, the travelers always came home. Of course, if they hadn’t survived, they couldn’t have written the stories, but wasn’t it more likely you’d wander from one city to the next until you died or grew too old to continue? Surely people didn’t always end at the same place where they began. It was too orderly, too predictable. And the histories, while less personal, were much the same. All progressed bravely to the present. No one suggested anything had been lost in the passage of time, and certainly none ever mentioned the forgotten “secrets of the First Men.”

  Perhaps reality was like the frieze in the library—pictures you had to order for yourself, that may have told many stories or none at all. One scene on the wall showed men and women in green standing before a man on a throne he took to be the Emperor. And another scene depicted men writing at high desks—possibly the ones who’d copied the very books he’d read. But most portrayed Foresters in the natural world—crossing rivers, felling trees, shooting game—the activities of their daily lives. Only one panel was unusual. It presented a Forester confronting a diminutive, naked man in a forest, both simply facing one another, one looking down, the other looking up. Could this have been a meeting with one of the Rand?

  Unexpectedly, it was David who answered one of Jon’s questions about the books.

  “You and my brother John are two peas in a pod,” he told him one rainy morning over breakfast. “I’ve read a few books, but not as many as the two of you—not nearly as many. I guess I enjoy being out of doors too much to stay put in a chair. But don’t get me wrong—I’m not criticizing you. I only wish I had your persistence.”

  “Have the Foresters always had a library?” Jon asked.

  “It’s an odd thing, isn’t it? From what you know of us, you wouldn’t think we’d care about reading. But our ancestors carried books with them when they first came here—at least that’s what they say. And since then, we’ve bought more from the merchants. In fact, some made a point of bringing books, because it was likely we’d buy them.”

  “So they weren’t written here?”

  “No—not anywhere near here. Most come from Kar. That’s where the scriptoria are—huge rooms where men copy books from dictation. Or where the scriptoria used to be. John says that none of the books we’ve bought in recent years are new, so that may mean no one makes books anymore.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Maybe no one wants to read them—except you and John, that is. But look! There’s a gleam of light. The rain must be over, so the day won’t be wasted after all.”

  ▲

  So Jon saw little of John that winter, except at public occasions like meals. At first, Jon spent considerable time with Zoë, but over the weeks he saw less of her as well. That was only to be expected, since she had many friends among the other families.

  But one day, when Jon and Tomas were out walking together, Tomas said something that put Zoë’s behavior in a new light.

  “I wonder how long it will be before Zoë and Terrel announce their engagement.”

  “Engagement?” Jon asked with a start.

  “Didn’t you know about it? He’s been courting her for the past two years. Of course she’s too young for marriage—Foresters can’t marry before they’re twenty. But they can agree to marry any time they want—not when they’re children, obviously, but once they’re grown up.”

  Jon knew who Terrel was. He’d joined the family at dinner, but Jon had thought that was because he was Karl’s friend, and in a way he reminded Jon of Karl—the kind of person you ought to admire but can never bring yourself to like.

  “Are you sure Zoë’s interested in him?” Jon asked.

  “Well, she spends time alone with him, doesn’t she?”

  Jon had no answer to that question. Zoë had a life of her own and for all he knew Terrel was central to it. Still, it was hard to imagine her marrying a man who took himself even more seriously than her oldest brother.

  This view was later confirmed by a conversation between Zoë and Karl that he overheard in the Gre
at Hall. They were standing behind one of the columns that held up the elaborate roof, so Jon didn’t see them when he entered the room. But he recognized their voices and stood motionless, unsure whether to leave or make his presence known.

  “You don’t want to end up like your aunt Ethel,” Karl had said.

  And that remark had made Zoë angry.

  “I’ll end up like Ethel if I choose to. She’s an entirely admirable woman.”

  “But we need to have more children,” Karl had told her in a voice meant to sound placating. “And there isn’t a better man among the five families.”

  “Aren’t you a better man, Karl?”

  “Don’t be absurd. You can’t marry your own brother.”

  “That’s not what I meant—I meant that you yourself ought to marry someone if that’s all so important to you.”

  “I intend to marry Terrel’s sister.”

  “Then do it.”

  “You know I can’t act alone. If I marry, I go to live with my wife’s family, and that means one less man in our quadrant. Why do you think I’ve waited for so long? None of us can marry unless you do. I thought it might be a joint thing. When I leave to join Terrel’s family, Terrel comes to take my place—that way the numbers won’t be affected. And you’ll be able to start having children. You have to have children, Zoë—don’t you understand that? You have to have as many children as possible. You can have no higher purpose.

  “Sometimes I think there’s something wrong with my family. Ethel refused to marry; David spends his life looking at trees; and John can’t seem to decide whether he prefers girls or boys. You have to admit it puts a burden on the two of us.”

  “I don’t know what you’re trying to say about David and John, but I understand exactly what you’re telling me. You want me to marry for the sake of the numbers. I guess that’s as good a reason to marry as any—but let me tell you, Karl, whether for the numbers or not, whomever I marry will be a man I choose myself, not someone you pick for me.”

  “But you have to acknowledge there aren’t that many men to choose from among the Foresters.”

  “Then perhaps it won’t be a Forester.”

  This time it was Karl’s turn to be angry.

  “Do you think I’d let my sister betray the families?”

  “If you cared about your sister you’d want her to marry the greatest man in the Empire—not one of your Forester buddies.”

  “You have a pretty high and mighty notion of yourself, Zoë. One of these days, you’re going to have to face the unpleasant fact that you’re not some kind of princess royal.”

  “I never said I was a princess royal.”

  “Then why do you act like one?”

  Jon didn’t want them to know he’d been listening—it would have been awkward for everyone. But he also wanted to rescue Zoë from this conversation, so he stepped back quietly and then pretended to be entering the room.

  “Zoë,” he called out, “I haven’t seen you all day.”

  Zoë turned to him with a look of relief.

  “Aren’t you going to say hello to Karl?”

  “Sure. It’s just that I was taught always to address a lady first.”

  Karl glowered at him and left the room without a word.

  ▲

  Toward spring, the Council reconvened to determine their response to the changes taking place in the Empire. Feelings were high on the opposing sides and it was finally agreed to put off a decision until another year “when we will be able to reach a consensus.” Three years without an emissary from the Emperor would be a decisive sign. On that proposition at least they were able to concur.

  “It was exactly what I predicted,” Zoë told John. “The most we can agree on is that we don’t know what to do.”

  “I was afraid you’d turn out to be right. They still see the Chosen and their Brotherhood allies as a hypothetical problem. And they can’t accept the fact that the Emperor no longer controls all of the Empire.”

  “So what are you going to do?” Zoë asked pointedly.

  “I’ll decide after we get back to the Forest House.”

  “John, remember what you said before we left the Forest House. Jon and I intend to hold you to your promise.”

  Chapter Eight

  Ethel had intended to spend the summer at the Mountain House, but when the family’s departure approached she changed her mind.

  “Something tells me I’ll be needed at home,” she explained. “That may be a weak reason, but I can’t give you a better one.”

  “You don’t need a better reason,” her sister told her. “I’m glad you’ve decided to come with us; with so much happening, I want the family together.”

  “But you were expected to stay,” Karl said. “It will look strange if you leave.”

  “I’ve spoken to the Mountain-House family, Karl. They have more than enough hands this year, and they know we’re the smallest of the families—the smallest by far.”

  “If you’d married like other women, there might have been more of us,” he blurted out.

  Everyone looked at Karl. They knew the way he felt about Ethel, but he’d never said it so openly. Ethel, however, refused to be nonplussed.

  “Karl seems to think that having children depends on being married,” she observed. “But, married or unmarried, if I’d chosen to be a mother, you might have had a dozen cousins. However, I chose not to have children. If you want to blame me for that choice, it’s your affair. Still, I’m not solely responsible for the size of our family. I didn’t ask cousin Flossie to fall in love with a man who didn’t want to live in the woods; and, if mother hadn’t died after Helen was born, you might have had more aunts and uncles as well, and they, too, would have produced offspring. Then you’d be complaining about having to build an addition to the Forest House.”

  Karl took a long breath.

  “I wasn’t joking, Ethel. The size of our family is a serious matter. Our survival depends on it. Am I the only one who understands that fact?”

  “We all understand it,” Ethel said, shifting to a more serious tone. “However, I’m now too old to have children, even if I changed my mind on the subject. As I said, feel free to blame me, but it won’t alter matters a speck.”

  Karl turned away.

  “No one blames you for anything, Aunt Ethel,” John assured her. “And, like Mother, I’m glad you’re coming with us. But I hope you’ll agree to my plan to make it a slightly longer journey. I’d like to go to Hexam first and then return by the River Road instead of skirting the two valleys.”

  This was the first anyone had heard of John’s plan. Karl looked at him curiously, but said nothing.

  “Does anyone object?” John asked. “It might increase the distance, but going by the road will be faster and also easier on the ponies.”

  “What do you think, Father?” Helen asked.

  “We’ve never taken that route before, but if that’s what John wants, I see no reason to object. And, with so many things changing around us, maybe it’s time to change our habits as well.”

  “I think it’s an excellent idea,” Ethel said. “It’s been years since I saw cousin Flossie. Her daughter must be just your age, John—and from what I’ve heard she’s an attractive girl. Did you see her when you passed through on the way to Bridgetown last summer?”

  “I stuck my head in. She was there with her brother—I forget his name—but we only had time for a few words.”

  “Ah, so that’s it,” Ethel said. “You’d like the opportunity to say a bit more to her.”

  She laughed, joined by most of the other family members. Even Jon tried to appear amused. Helen alone remained silent, looking thoughtfully at her youngest son.

  In the event, Ethel’s words settled the issue of their route. Jon suspected Karl didn’t like the idea of this break with tradition, but he raised no objection. It was remarkable the way John was able to persuade people do what he wanted without making them feel coerced. But that wa
s his special power, wasn’t it?

  The last of the families to arrive in the fall, they were also the first to leave in the spring; three days after John made his proposal, eight travelers and three loaded ponies descended into the valley north of the Mountain House on their way to Hexam, which they reached early that afternoon. Hexam had no walls, but a steep-sided ditch surrounded its perimeter, so you crossed a narrow footbridge to enter the town. Turning aside at the footbridge, David led the ponies along the outside of the ditch to wait for them where the River Road left the south end of town.

  Once across the bridge, Zoë surprised everyone by announcing that she had no interest in seeing her cousins. “If they’d remained Foresters, it would be different,” she explained. “Jon and I will explore Hexam while the rest of you visit Flossie and her family.”

  Moreover, Karl turned out to have business of his own to pursue, the nature of which he kept to himself, so only four of the company ended up calling on their relatives.

  “Give my best to everyone,” Karl muttered and set off alone.

  They watched Karl disappear amid the windings of the town before anyone spoke.

  “Don’t ask, John,” his mother said.

  “I didn’t say a thing.”

  “Perhaps you should tell Jon and Zoë how to get to the town center from here.”

  “That’s easy enough. Follow Karl to the first turning, then go left. He went straight, so there’s no danger of stumbling on his secret.”

  Jon and Zoë took his advice and soon found themselves on the main street, which, while little wider than an alley, managed to feel busy. Here, for the first time in his experience, Jon saw real shops with real goods laid out for sale. He’d read about such places, but he’d never encountered one firsthand and was delighted to observe men and women bargaining over a piece of cloth or a basket of potatoes. Still, he could see that Hexam was a place where people enjoyed little more than the necessities of life. Reading in the Foresters’ library, he’d come across descriptions of markets where men sold precious jewels and spices conveyed from the shores of the Eastern Sea, but here he detected no hint of opulence—only plain goods and little variety, although the sellers were friendly and he got the feeling they were men and women he could trust. However, after less than an hour, he and Zoë had seen enough and decided to go in search of David.