The Flight from Kar (The Emperor's Library

by Frederick Kirchhoff

  “It’s another mystery, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, another mystery for us to solve.”

  They walked down to the water in silence and stood looking out at the line of waves approaching the shore. Yesterday, seeing the ocean for the first time, it had expanded his notion of space; today, standing next to the moving water, he felt he was looking at time itself.

  “If we crossed the water,” he asked. “Where do you think we’d find ourselves?”

  “It wouldn’t be far to the islands we saw from the mountain. The nearest one is easy to see, and the next one out isn’t much further. If we had one of the boats you see on the river in Bridgetown, we could row out to them.”

  “But beyond the islands, what then?” Jon asked.

  “You’re the one who’s read all the books about travelers. Did any of them write about sailing across the Western Ocean?”

  “None that I read, although one of the writers said there was nothing but a huge expanse of empty sea between here and the eastern edge of the continent.”

  “I read that too, but I’m not sure I believe it.”

  “Why?” Jon asked.

  “It has to do with balance. The planet spins on its axis, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “But it doesn’t wobble.”

  “I’ve never felt anything like a wobble.”

  “Of course you haven’t. No one ever has. And that means the planet must have equal weight on both sides. If all the land was on one side and not the other, it would wobble, but since it doesn’t, it follows that there’s another continent the size of this one on the side opposite us. It’s just a theory, I know. But doesn’t it sound logical?”

  “But how can you prove it?” Jon asked.

  “You’d have to take a ship and sail due west from where we’re standing and see what you could find. I can’t think of another way.”

  “Well, of course, you might find someone who had done the sailing for you—someone who’d come here from that continent on the other side.”

  “But how could you be sure he was telling the truth? Maybe he’d just sailed from a port twenty miles to the north.”

  Jon shrugged his shoulders. How could you ever tell whether anyone was telling the truth? And yet hadn’t he been sure about the truth of John’s words only moments before? He laughed, partly at his own inconsistency, partly out of sheer happiness, and John laughed with him. Jon wasn’t sure whether John was right about the wobble, but he loved the fact that he was a man who wanted to understand the planet as much as Jon himself did. Could anybody be better than John?

  They turned and began walking up the beach, just above the line where the waves spread in shallow fans across the sand. White and tan birds with a W-pattern on their tail feathers scuttled along in front of them and then flew off in various directions. A large gull watched as they passed, slowly moving its head to keep them in sight. The scene was new for both men. Both had spent their lives in valleys, with horizons defined by mountains or hills. Now the horizon was the flat line of the sea, melting into the azure sky of the West. Far out, a large black bird dove into the swell.

  “Shall we go into the water, too?” John asked.

  And of course they did. It was frightening at first. The water was chill, and the waves tossed them around. But beyond the breakers, there was a wide place where the waves grew shallow again. Here, where the water was only waist high, they stood for a while, looking out at the sea and then back to the shore and its line of high mountains. To the North, their ridges stretched as far as Jon could make out; to the South, he saw where the sea washed directly against high cliffs, but nothing beyond those cliffs was visible.

  “Look,” Jon said, “there are fishes—tiny silver fishes in the water.”

  He tried to catch one between his two hands, but the fish proved too quick. Then John tried, and with no better success. Eventually they gave up the effort, laughing at their ineptness.

  In the distance, the black bird dove once more into the water.

  “He knows how to catch fish,” John observed.

  He then took Jon in his arms and held him for a long time without saying a word, while one shallow wave after another brushed against them.

  ▲

  Out of the ocean, they stood in the warm sunlight, allowing the steady breeze to dry them; then they dressed and began to think about the climb back over the mountain.

  “If only we could live here,” Jon said. “This is the best place in the world.”

  “Neither of us has seen very much of the world as yet.”

  “But I love it here.”

  “We’d be hard pressed to survive without food—you saw how poorly we faired when we tried to catch a fish—and you can’t drink the ocean water. That much I know. But we can at least stay here tonight—not on the beach, but back in the sand dunes. They won’t miss us at home. I said we’d be gone three days, but four days won’t matter. They know I often wind up going further than I planned.”

  “Will you tell them that we came here—that we found a way to the Western Ocean?”

  “No, I don’t think so. What good would come of it? There’s no reason for anyone else to learn where we’ve been. They know the sea is here, and we’re not the first to have seen it from the mountaintop. But, as you pointed out, we’re probably the only men now alive to know the way across the mountains.”

  Jon enjoyed that thought. He and John were like no one else. It was what he’d always dreamed of—to find someone who felt and thought the way he did and to be with him for as long as he lived. Last night had been awkward—neither of them had been sure what to do, and they’d ended up simply jerking each other off. But Jon had been thinking. Tonight he had an idea of exactly what he wanted to try.

  ▲

  “You taste like salt,” John said, licking Jon’s shoulder.

  Jon grabbed John’s arm and held it up to his lips, running his tongue along it.

  “So do you.”

  They both laughed.

  A bank of low clouds lay across the ocean, but to the East the sky was clear.

  “I want to feel the water once more before we leave,” Jon said, unbuttoning his shirt.

  “It’ll make you stickier.”

  “I don’t mind—and we can wash it off at our campsite on the mountain.”

  “But we have to leave soon if we’re to reach the other side of the ice field tonight—unless you want to stay here for another day.”

  Jon thought for a moment.

  “No, I think we should return to the Forest House. We’re almost out of fresh water. But we’ll come here again, won’t we?”

  “Anytime you want.”

  “Then I’ll be right back,” Jon said, stepping out of his pants and running down to the water.

  “Don’t think I’m not coming with you,” John called after him.

  In the cool morning air, the water felt warmer than it had yesterday, and returning to the shore they shivered as they hastily dried themselves and dressed. Then, turning away from the sea, they made their way toward the mountain.

  “What’s that?” Jon asked, pointing to some rocks lying half covered by sand. “They look as if they were put there on purpose.”

  John walked over to them. Three rabbits, who’d been nibbling at the weeds, bounded away at his approach.

  “They were. These aren’t rocks—they’re building stones. This was the foundation of a man-made structure—and see, there’s a bit of wall.”

  “Do you think it was built by whoever made the ladder up the mountain?” Jon asked.

  “Possibly—it looks old.”

  “So someone once lived here.”

  “Perhaps they still do—not here, meaning this exact place, but somewhere to the North. We saw that the land between the sea and the mountains widens in that direction. People might be living there, perhaps on the S-shaped river. It would be a source of fresh water.”

  “Who could they be?”


  “I don’t know—but at least we know they’d be able to eat rabbit if they set their mind to it.”

  “I’ve been thinking about what you said the day you came back from Bridgetown,” Jon said.

  “I said a lot of things that day,” John pointed out.

  “I mean about the Chosen and how they believe that people once possessed powers no one has anymore.”

  “It wouldn’t take a special power to build whatever this place is—nothing more than basic masonry.”

  “Still, couldn’t the Chosen be right about there being an earlier era—before the Empire—when the world was different in some way? One of the books at the Mountain House repeated legends about a time when men could fly through the air. I didn’t believe it—the part about flying, that is—but people in the past could have done other things we can’t do today. The women in the Valley of Women used to carve beautiful designs in wood, but they seem to have lost the skill.”

  John paused for a moment before he replied.

  “I see what you’re getting at, but I can’t answer your question. We know too little of the past to be certain about it. And that goes for the Chosen as well. There must be other copies of that book you read in the Mountain House—I know the one you’re talking about; I’ve read it, too—and some member of the Chosen may have gotten his hands on one of them and taken everything he read for fact. But that doesn’t mean what they say is true.

  “The only thing I know for sure, Jon, is that I love you.”

  Jon threw his arms around him. What else was there to do?

  ▲

  In a few hours, they’d reached their former campsite and bathed in the icy waterfall, washing off the residue of the salt water; and by noon, they’d climbed the stone ladder and headed for the ice field. Crossing it, Jon felt he was leaving behind a moment that would never come again in his life. Still, they’d have one more night in the wilderness together before they reached to the Forest House. And John had promised to return here with him before the end of the summer. Surely they’d find a way to get back before many weeks had passed. The Foresters were always going off in one direction or another, and no one ever questioned anyone about it.

  When Jon woke the following morning, John was still sleeping. Jon pulled away from him gently and cast his eyes over the man he loved. He was fascinated by the taut smoothness of his skin and the curve that ran from his shoulders to the small of his back—that curve he’d wanted so much to touch when he’d seen John at the bathing place. It was strange that this beautiful man had been afraid of him—or at least afraid of showing his feelings. But what did Jon know of the world? Growing up in the Valley of Women, he couldn’t expect to understand much about the way other human beings behaved.

  But what did that matter? He loved John and John loved him, and nothing could change that. Nothing in the world.

  John rolled over and opened his eyes.

  “It’s too early to get up,” he said.

  Jon touched John’s face with his fingertips, feeling the stubble on his cheeks and chin.

  “Are you telling me I need to shave?” John asked.

  “If you want to look like one of the Brotherhood, that’s your business.”

  “Would you like that—like me to have a big thick beard covering my face?”

  “I would love you no matter how you looked.”

  John reached out and took Jon in his arms.

  ▲

  Later in the morning, as they were making their way further down into the valley, John stopped suddenly and looked up at the hillside on their right.

  “Above—on the path coming down from the look out—the one you took when you first came here. Someone is up there. It can’t be David, because he and Zoë were going to the River Road, and I don’t think it’s Karl. After all that’s happened, he wouldn’t have left the house when both David and I were also away. We need to find out who it is.”

  So, instead of returning to the Forest House, they began climbing the path to the lookout, moving with caution and stopping to listen for someone approaching. But then, turning a corner, they came upon a person who seemed as surprised to see them as they were to see him—a boy with long blond hair, sitting on a rock and gnawing at a piece of bread.

  They looked at one another in silence and then the boy smiled a look of recognition.

  “Jon,” he called out. “You’ve cut your hair.”

  Who was it?

  “It’s me, Klei.”

  Yes, Klei. Of course it was Klei. Why hadn’t he recognized him at once? But, more important, why was he here?

  Klei stood up and walked toward them. His clothing was torn and his hands and face were streaked with dirt. He stumbled as he walked.

  “You look tired,” John said. “Let me help you.”

  Jon was seized by a rush of jealousy. He didn’t want John to help anyone but him, and he was sure Klei was better looking than he was—if you liked boys who looked like girls. But he quickly put those feelings aside.

  “How did you get here?” he asked Klei.

  “I watched you. The day you left the valley, when everyone came looking, I saw where you climbed the White Wall. Afterwards, the women told us you were going to die. There was nothing beyond the mountains, they said. You’d die of starvation and be eaten by cats. That was the method you’d chosen for your execution.

  “The rest of the boys believed them. They liked thinking you’d died a horrible death. They even made up stories about your final moments, trying to outdo each other in gruesome details. But I didn’t believe a word of it. I knew you wouldn’t do anything without a plan.”

  He looked back and forth between Jon and John as he told them this.

  “The older boys blamed me for what you did to Piers, but no one dared to touch me. They knew the women were watching them. And of course they left with the Bearded Men soon afterwards.

  “But before they left three of them took me aside and told me that they’d be waiting for me. And they said that what had been done to me in the valley was nothing compared to what would happen when the men got their hands on me.”

  “And so you escaped,” John said.

  “What else was there to do? I thought about it all year, and made up my mind to leave once the rains stopped. The worst that could happen would be for me to share your fate.”

  “You’re a brave boy,” John said. “You and Jon are both brave. I want you to be my friend. Come with us.”

  If Jon could have passed for one of the Foresters, Klei could not. Like them, he had blue eyes, but there the resemblance ended, for Klei was slight of build, short for his age, with delicate features and a light complexion. Even his eyes were lighter in color than the eyes of the Foresters. Jon wondered how he’d managed the difficult climb up the white wall. It had taken all his own strength, but this boy—a year younger than he, but in appearance many years younger—had managed it as well. And he had nothing with him beyond the clothes on his back. He must have slept outdoors without a blanket last night. Suddenly, Jon felt very protective.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  “I have bread in my pocket. It’s stale—I’ve been saving it up, piece by piece. I had to be careful. I didn’t want anyone to notice what I was doing. Some of the bread’s pretty old by now, but it’s kept me going. Still, I had no way to bring water. I’m very thirsty.”

  “You can have my water,” Jon told him, handing him his water bottle.

  “Thanks,” Klei said, taking a sip. “It’s very good.”

  “Drink it all. We’ll soon reach a stream soon where I can refill it.”

  Klei took a long swallow, then returned the bottle to Jon.

  “Let’s get going,” John said, placing one hand on Jon’s shoulder, the other on Klei’s.

  “And don’t worry,” he told Klei. “We have more than enough room at the Forest House. We could put up half the boys in the Valley of Women.”

  Thankfully, that wasn’t a likely prospect.
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  ▲

  It was well past noon when they reached the Forest House.

  “I’ve brought a guest,” John announced. “One of Jon’s friends who fled to escape the Brotherhood.”

  “He’s welcome,” Helen replied. “Any friend of Jon is welcome.”

  Zoë looked at the three, then walked over to Klei and took his hand.

  “Now I will have five brothers. But come with me. I’ll show you where to bathe and find you some better clothes. They’ll have to be mine—I’m the only one close to your size—and they’ll still be too big.”

  “It’s the custom here,” Jon explained pointedly. “Zoë makes all newcomers take a bath. It was the same for me.”

  Zoë turned and cast him a glance she failed to make convincingly stern.

  “Jon, You sound just like my brothes. They never let me forget anything.”

  John, who had no idea what they were talking about, looked at them inquisitively, but neither Jon nor Zoë chose to enlighten him. Instead, Jon started laughing again. He was so happy, so very happy.

  Chapter Ten

  Zoë and David had observed no one on the River Road or the stretch of the South Road near the ford; nor had they found signs of recent travel.

  “The South Road isn’t as dangerous as you thought,” she told John. “Once it climbs above the river bottom, it winds through rocky hills where sounds echo. If we’d heard anyone, we’d have had time to get out of sight, and there are lots of places where you can hide.”

  “But that means someone could have been hiding from you,” John pointed out.

  “But no one was—and why would they? No one hears a Forester when we’re keeping quiet, and David and I were like mice.”

  John shook his head, but Zoë’s words gave him an idea. Perhaps the family should investigate those rocky hills—particularly the terrain north of the road to Gort. To the South, the land rose quickly into the maze of ridges and valleys that ran east from the Boundary Mountain. No one was likely to enter the road from that direction, but the hills on the other side of the road abutted the Brotherhood and so it would be useful to familiarize themselves with this territory. Besides, exploring it would enable him to spend time alone with Jon.