“The Rand. They must have been the Rand. And they must have known where I wanted them to take Jon. But nothing like this has ever happened before. Nothing ever like this.”
Chapter Thirteen
“Two hours more and we’ll reach Bridgetown,” Zoë announced.
The trip had been her idea. Like a typical Forester, she’d imagined that a few days of travel would set Jon straight. And she was partly right, for he’d been growing depressed in the Forest House, ant travel was better than sitting still.
She’d said their aim was to discover where the Chosen and their allies had gone after the ceremony. They hadn’t lingered by the river—David and Karl had determined that, yet they’d also found no evidence of their traveling south, so they must have preceded north to Bridgetown, which guarded the only bridge across the river this side of Krapàn. The Chosen may have used that bridge going south, for the Bridgetowners may have seen no reason to refuse them, but the Brotherhood were a different matter. The Bridgetowners would have forbidden their entrance to the city.
“I don’t want to encounter the Chosen, I just want to find out what they’ve been up to,” she’d announced. And, although her proposal came as a surprise to the family, no one had tried to dissuade her.
“It’s not a bad plan, is it?” Zoë had asked her mother.
Helen had studied her daughter for a time before answering the question.
“No, it’s not a bad plan. It was unexpected, but I can raise no objections. None of us can. And you’ve proved yourself, Zoë. No one can deny that. It would be wrong to question you.”
The Foresters had been as grief-stricken at John’s death as Jon himself, but they’d controlled their emotions. Jon would never forget Helen’s behavior. He’d expected tears but had found a face steeled against feeling. She’d listened to their report, her eyes on whoever was speaking, and then she’d risen and left the room. Jon could still hear the sound she’d made closing the door.
Ethel had looked to her father for guidance; then she, too, had risen, following her sister only to return after a few minutes.
“Helen wants to be alone, Papa,” she’d explained. And that was all. She seemed concerned only with Peter’s reaction, ignoring everyone else in the room.
Jon was in no condition to answer their questions; nevertheless, as soon as Helen had left, they’d begun quizzing him on what he’d learned as a captive. Karl was clearly annoyed that Jon had gained so little information, while even Zoë had probed him on minute details about what he should have observed. It took David to disrupt the grilling. Announcing that Jon had said enough for the day, he’d led him outside, where he washed and bound his wounds and put him to bed, not in his usual place, but in the end room, where space had been cleared for that purpose and fresh linens laid out on one of the bunks.
“Mother said you’d want to be alone,” he explained. “And it’ll be quieter here. She prepared this room while they were interrogating you.”
These people continued to surprise Jon. At a time like this, Helen had concerned herself with his comfort. And David was right. Jon needed nothing so much as sleep.
Once, when he woke in the night, he sensed someone near him in the darkness. It was Klei; he could tell it was Klei. But he pretended to be asleep and Klei eventually left. However Klei continued to keep his eye on Jon. The next morning, when David knocked softly, Klei slipped into the room behind him.
“Here, try to eat this,” David said, placing a plate of food and a jug of water on the shelf next to Jon’s bed. “And drink as much water as you can. You need to drink lots of water. There’s a jar on the floor for you to pee in. Eat if you feel like it, but be sure to drink and pee and then go back to sleep,” he told Jon. “The water will clean your body. But let me see your wrists.”
Carefully removing the bandages, he examined the torn flesh.
“It’s not as bad as I remembered,” he said, surprise in his voice. “How well your wrists have healed already. You’ll have scars, Jon, but I have something that will help. I should have brought it yesterday, but so much was happening. Klei, hold the jug up so Jon can sip some water. I won’t be long.”
He disappeared briefly and then returned with a small jar.
“This may hurt at first, but it will keep the wounds from festering.”
The salve burned sharply and Jon winced as David applied it. But he thanked him for his care.
“You need to rest,” David told him, replacing the bandages with clean cloth. “And don’t forget the water—as much of it as you can drink. Klei and I will go now, but one of us will look in later. Just in case.”
Jon did as David instructed, but it wasn’t difficult. He awoke only when David again appeared with food and fresh bandages. Then he slept again.
The second morning, he was still weak, but the pain had diminished. It was time to face the world, he told himself. Before either David or Klei came, he’d dressed and walked out to the front porch, where he leaned against the wall, soaking in the sun and watching the light play over the wind-swept grass. Seeing him, Klei nodded a silent greeting and went back indoors, where Ethel was cooking breakfast. But as soon as Karl learned that Jon was up and about, he took it as a sign that Jon was ready to say more about the Brotherhood. Questioning him, he tried to pin Jon down as to exactly what time of day each event had occurred, how many men had been present, what weapons they’d carried—details Zoë would have noted, but which to Jon now seemed a blur. This time it was Peter who rescued him.
“Are you up to a walk in the garden?” he’d asked. “No questions—just a conversation between friends. You and Karl can talk tomorrow or the day after. He knows that whatever you have to say can wait. It can wait weeks, if it comes to that. After what you’ve been through it takes time for the mind to clear.”
Karl had grunted and gone his way. Karl was beginning to doubt his grandfather’s reliability. Still, he’d never oppose him openly.
“Come, Jon,” Peter had said. “You can lean on me if you’d like.”
Jon hadn’t leaned on Peter, but he’d followed the old man into the garden, where they’d walked in silence while Peter tended the apricots. The fruit was almost ripe, and, while Jon waited, he’d adjusted the stakes propping the heaviest branches. Jon had helped in last year’s harvest; he remembered pitting the fruit and laying it to dry, wondering as he arranged the rows what would happen when John and his brothers returned from Bridgetown.
Eventually Peter paused and spoke.
“It would be wrong to blame yourself for what occurred,” he said. “You were right to rescue your friend—I would have done the same—and my grandson was right to second you. His death is a blow, of course—a terrible blow. But he died bravely, and you can’t ask for more.
“And you and Zoë both proved your worth,” he continued, “No one can be prouder of Zoë than I am—not even her mother. And I’m proud of you, too, Jon—as proud as if you were my own grandson. You’re like a grandson to me, you know. And you’ll have to take John’s place, now.”
So that was what he’d wanted to say.
“But that’s impossible,” Jon whispered. Peter was right about Zoë, although Jon had proved nothing but his impulsiveness. But Peter hadn’t heard him. “That’s impossible,” Jon repeated loudly.
Peter placed a hand on Jon’s shoulder.
“You’re right. I see where you’re coming from. Strictly speaking, no one can take another man’s place. Still, there are duties I’m counting on you to assume. Not tomorrow or the next day, but in due time. We were the smallest of the families; now we’re smaller still. You needed us once; now we need you.”
The old man was trying to comfort him—that was all. He didn’t mean what he was saying. No way could anyone replace John. And there was more to it. What if John had married Doris? There’d have been children—everything would have been better. But now nothing was possible.
Mumbling thanks, Jon had returned to his bedroom, where he’d hidden in the darkness an
d tried to burrow into sleep. Twice he’d allowed passion to get the better of him, and each time had brought disaster. And hadn’t his love for John brought disaster, too? Clearly emotions couldn’t be trusted. Better to present a surface of polished steel to the world. That’s what he’d be—a surface of polished steel.
With that resolution in mind, he’d agreed to undertake this journey with Zoë. He owed her a debt and that debt had to be paid. But what then? Karl and David planned to set out in separate directions to inform the other families about the Chosen, while Helen and Ethel would go south to warn Bent Lake and the Valley of Women about the threat. Karl decided that he and David would join Zoë and her party at Bridgetown.
“Whatever action we decide on will have to be undertaken in concert with the Bridgetowners. Many are our kin. Some of us have taken wives there.”
“And husbands as well,” Ethel had reminded him.
“Yes, a few have married Bridgetown men and diminished our numbers.” He glanced at Zoë as he spoke. “But Bridgetown is faithful to the Emperor. David and I will rally the best fighters among the Foresters and bring them to Bridgetown; then we’ll go from there.”
Jon wondered what Karl intended. Did he think a handful of men could take on an army?
“But it will be dangerous,” Peter pointed out. “Zoë has been an adult for less than a year and Jon for only a few months. They are taking on a formidable task.”
“I agree with what Mother said about Zoë’s having proved herself,” Karl responded. “My sister is no longer a girl; she’s a woman now. And Jon must replace the brother we’ve lost. Naturally I wouldn’t expect them to go further north than the escarpment where the river cascades. There’s nothing but wasteland between there and Krapàn, and Krapàn is a dangerous place.”
“It appears everyone has a place to go, but me,” Peter said. “I’d thought I might volunteer to help Zoë, but the rest of you appear to think she needs no help, so it’s best I stay here. There’s work to be done in orchard and garden; unless someone assumes these tasks, what will become of us?”
“Do you want me to stay here, Papa?” Ethel asked.
“No, you go with your sister. More than one should take the word to the Valley of Women. Those women won’t be easy to persuade. And I’ll be all right. Being alone is second nature to me.”
▲
Jon’s wounds had indeed healed quickly. So quickly that it astonished David, who’d said Jon was lucky to have such a resilient body. But Jon had another explanation. After they’d carried him up the hillside, the Rand had paused to examine his wounds; and when their fingers had touched him he’d felt a current of energy. At the time, he’d been confused, but later, when he tried to piece together what had happened, all he could imagine was a force working through his body, restoring the damaged fibers and strengthening the whole. Naturally, the Foresters had asked him to describe his encounter with the Rand. But Jon had omitted this detail—it seemed too incredible. And yet he was certain that the Rand had been responsible for his recovery.
“We’ll need to find clothing for Alf,” Zoë said. “And cut his hair so that he looks like us. If we run into the Brotherhood, they shouldn’t be able to identify him as a runaway.”
“It’s hard to imagine anyone confusing Klei and me with one of your family, Zoë,” Alf said. “Jon may look like a Forester, but Klei and I never will.”
“But at least it’s a step in the right direction.”
No one pointed it out, but the clothing they found for Alf had been John’s, now cut and resewn by Ethel to fit his smaller body.
▲
Karl and David had already left the forest house, Karl going north and David across the river, but Helen and Ethel had waited to leave with Zoë and the three boys.
“Let us set out together,” Helen proposed. “We’ll go with you as far as the River Road.”
“What about the Brotherhood?” Zoë asked. “Couldn’t some be on the road now? They must think they own the place.”
“We’ll keep our eyes open—and I won’t forget my training. Unlike you, I’ve never had to kill a man, but I haven’t forgotten how. Indeed, I believe I was the one who taught you. You used the full weight of your body, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Father taught me that and I taught it to you.”
Zoë knew her mother was proud of her, yet it wasn’t pride in her voice today. It was a wistfulness that she had trouble explaining. What was it her mother was feeling?
▲
The morning of departure, fog had overhung the forest; drops condensed on the leaves above them and fell almost like rain but unmistakably different. Not the best day to begin a journey, but it fit Jon’s mood. Sensing his feelings, they’d let him keep to himself, following behind. Yet, as the sun climbed and the fog burnt off, Jon felt an eagerness for the open road. Without realizing it, he found himself walking beside Helen. He didn’t speak to her, but being next to her mattered. Perhaps this was the last time he’d see this woman who now meant so much to him.
They’d agreed to spend the first night together and then go their separate ways. Close to the River Road, they lit no fire; however, the air was warm and they had no need to cook. They’d been talking quietly when Ethel motioned for silence, pointing toward the road. Through the trees, they glimpsed figures walking southward—a man leading a horse with a woman at his side and then a child holding the woman’s hand.
“I want to talk to them,” Zoë had said, standing up. “They may have important news.”
“Don’t frighten them,” her mother told her.
But Zoë was already off, with Jon close behind.
At their approach, the travelers stopped and the man drew a sword, while the woman pulled her child close.
“Friends,” Zoë called out. “We’re no one to fear. Do I look dangerous?”
The man searched her face carefully, then lowered his sword, but didn’t replace it in its sheath.
“No, Miss. You don’t look dangerous, but appearances can deceive. From your clothing, I think you must be a Forester. I’ve never set eyes on a Forester before, but I know they wear green and used to live hereabouts. If you are a Forester, that means you serve the Emperor, which makes you a friend, not a foe. And the man with you—your brother I’d guess—he also has a trustworthy look, although in a more standoffish way. So, altogether, I’m not inclined to believe either of you enemies. Still, if you try to harm my wife and daughter, I’ll fight as long as there’s breath in my body. I may have run away, but I’m no coward.”
“I would not have taken you for a coward,” Zoë told him. “But you’re right. My brother and I are Foresters, and it’s our duty to watch these woods and report to the Emperor what we observe. Therefore we must ask why you’re here and where you’re going.”
The man laughed gently, putting his sword away. When he spoke, Jon was surprised by his eloquence—and by an accent that meant he came from far away.
“Beautiful lady, you seem like a figure from a fairy tale, stepping out of the woods at twilight. Truly, if you were going to harm us, it would be with a spell and not a sword. I’ll tell you what you want to know, but how you’ll report it to the Emperor is a mystery to me, for Kar is many miles from here, and, if what I’ve heard is true, he may no longer be among the living.”
Jon and Zoë exchanged glances. They knew the Emperor was under attack. Was he already dead?
“Our story is simple. The white-clad devils came to our village and threatened all who wouldn’t accept their religion. We did what they said—it meant no more than kneeling before that book of theirs and touching it with your lips. They told us we no longer owed a tax to the Emperor, and many were happy to hear it—you can make most men do anything you want if you promise to lower their taxes—but we soon discovered that, instead of a tax, we now owed what they called a tithe to their leaders, which turned out to be more than we’d ever paid the Imperial Treasury. Still, we hoped the tithe would sa
tisfy them; however, they expected more. If any wanted a thing, they simply took it and announced they were obeying their god. Even our land, they said, was theirs. One seized a neighbor’s field and began eyeing our farm. He told us we could stay, but we’d be working for him. We weren’t the first this happened to, and those who’d stood up they’d murdered in the village square. Heretics, they called them, claiming their god had commanded them to drive all such from the land. It didn’t matter that they’d kissed the book; if they’d done it to deceive, the act was null and void. So there was our choice—death or servitude. But my wife and I wanted neither. We loaded what we could on this old horse—they’d taken the better animals—and set out on a cold spring night. We couldn’t leave openly, because they’d decreed running away a crime.
“Our land had been farmed by my father and his father’s father and by family going back farther than I can tell you. But we left it behind rather than become slaves. And so we search for a refuge as far as possible from the men who call themselves the Chosen.
“We thought we’d reached the end of the world not long ago, when we passed through a hardscrabble land with no sign of habitation, but the road kept going and there was good water nearby, so we followed it and eventually reached a better country, with rich farms and a walled town—you may know the place—it’s called Bridgetown.”
“I know of it,” Zoë said. “But I’ve never been there.”
“We hoped to find a place in its neighborhood, but the good land was spoken for and in so many words they let us know we were unwanted. Still, they told us of a valley further south where a man and his wife can farm whatever soil they clear for themselves. So that’s where we’re heading. Only I hope what they said is true and not a lie intended to drive us off.”
As he spoke, Helen and Ethel, followed by Klei and Alf, had come forward.
“We know place they told you about in Bridgetown, and it’s not far from here,” Helen said. “Come with us tomorrow, and we’ll take you there.”
“Not far?. Do you count in weeks or days?”
The Flight from Kar (The Emperor's Library Page 20
