The Flight from Kar (The Emperor's Library

by Frederick Kirchhoff

  “Not that way. It’s faster to make an angle and go past that big rock.”

  “You’ll go where we tell you to go,” Marge said, shoving him along the trail with the flat of her hand. “That’s why you got into trouble before—going your own way instead of taking the normal path.”

  And that was true, Jon thought—although not in the way she meant it.

  ▲

  Let Lyla be there, Jon repeated under his breath as they made their way to the village, but he knew the chances were slim. There were many Mothers, but only one Lyla. And he knew from experience how pig headed the others could be. Zoë was optimistic about the outcome of her meeting with the Mothers, but he had no reason to be. Hadn’t they condemned him to death two years ago? Even Lyla hadn’t been able to influence that sentence.

  When they reached the Hall, they were told that the Mothers were meeting “on serious business” and couldn’t be interrupted. Marge was plainly annoyed.

  “Do they think our finding two-dozen men trying to sneak into the valley isn’t serious business?” she asked peevishly. “They sent me to watch, but when I find something they don’t want to hear about it.”

  So much for her respect for the Mothers, Jon thought.

  “Be patient, Marge,” the doorkeeper responded. “You’ll have your turn. Nothing’s important enough to justify breaking the rules.”

  Jon wanted to scream, but Zoë remained calm. He hoped the people clinging to the White Wall had sense enough to make their way to the ledge above the last drop off. There they could at least sit down.

  A young woman appeared and spoke to the doorkeeper, who allowed her into the hall. Marge started to speak, but the doorkeeper beat her to it.

  “They were expecting Silva. They weren’t expecting you. That’s the difference,” she explained. “Didn’t you see that she’d run all the way here?”

  “You mean if I’d run instead of walked you’d have let me in first?” Marge asked, but the doorkeeper ignored her question.

  Hours seemed to pass, although it was probably no more than a half hour; then they heard loud talk inside the hall and the sound of chairs scraping the floor. Suddenly the door opened and the Mothers streamed out, forcing them to step aside.

  “Marge is here to see you,” the doorkeeper called out in an uncertain voice, but no one heeded her. Whatever news the young woman had delivered had brought consternation in its wake.

  Once more, the doorkeeper tried to get their attention.

  “Can’t you see we don’t have time for that,” one of the Mothers called out as she passed.

  But then Lyla appeared at the door. Jon took a step forward towards her, and his guard jerked him back by the rope, twisting the scars left by the Brotherhood. He uttered an involuntary cry of pain, and the sound caught Lyla’s attention.

  “Will no one hear what Marge has come to tell you?” the doorkeeper asked in a final attempt to carry out her responsibilities.

  “I will hear Marge,” Lyla said in a decisive voice. “It won’t be the first time she’s brought news to me from the mountain.”

  “Yes, take care of whatever she wants,” another Mother said to her in passing. “But hurry. Everyone is needed. Even women as old as you and I must do our part.”

  So the invasion has begun, Jon thought to himself.

  “I’ll take care of this matter and then join you at the gate. It can’t be anything of importance,” Lyla said in a carefully offhand manner.

  And yet Jon could tell she was excited. She’s concealing her feelings, he realized.

  Lyla took her time to speak to Marge, waiting until the last woman had left the hall. Only then did she ask for her report.

  “Now tell me exactly what happened, Marge. I recognize Jon, but not the young woman. I don’t know why they’ve come, but, given what we just heard, they may prove useful allies.”

  This wasn’t what Marge expected. She’d prepared a speech centering on Jon’s criminal nature, which to her mind proved he could be up to no good, but now one of the Mothers said he’d be a useful ally. Still, when she explained how he and Zoë had been taken prisoner, she made a point of reminding Lyla that Jon was under sentence of death.

  Lyla listened to Marge’s report; then, to Marge’s surprise, she thanked her for bringing good news.

  “It’s even better than I imagined at first. Not only have these fine young people come to our aid, but they’re also bringing others to join our defense of the valley. Not many, to be sure, but we can use their help. I’ll go back up the mountain with you to welcome them. But we must hurry—it’s already growing dark. Ask your helpers to fetch torches. We may need them to light the way for our guests.”

  “My helpers are guarding a dangerous criminal, Mother Lyla.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll see that he causes no trouble. But I must speak to the men and women they brought with them as soon as possible.”

  Marge looked at her in disbelief.

  “You mean you’re going up to the White Wall to see these people?”

  Jon saw that Lyla, despite the anxiety of the moment, was having fun.

  “Do you think I’m so old I can’t make the climb? My dear, these are visitors of consequence. It was right for you to find a Mother to greet them. You’ve done everything as you should. You should be proud of yourself.

  “Now send the young women for torches, and let’s be on our way. Jon and his friend must come with us, I’m afraid. It’s a nuisance going down and then up and then down again—especially because we’ll be returning to the village in the dark. But I need to question them, and I can do that on our way.

  “You go on ahead, Marge. You’re faster than an old woman like me. Tell your bow-women to let our guests descend and tell them I’ll be there shortly. Now hurry. There’s little time to waste.”

  ▲

  Once Marge was well ahead, they stopped so that Lyla could untie Jon’s wrists.

  “Couldn’t they have seen you were no threat?” she muttered while she worked at the knots. “The women fear the wrong things. They were afraid of you, Jon, because you accidentally hit someone too hard—a bully who deserved whatever you gave him, from what I could tell. And now they’ve decided to fear the Bearded Men, when it’s the Chosen they ought to be scared of.”

  Once his hands were free, Jon threw his arms around Lyla.

  “That’s enough,” she told him. “I know you’re glad to see me. You ought to be. But now is no time for hugs and kisses. We have to act before Marge changes her mind and orders her women to shoot your friends. Tell me, who is this young woman?”

  “My name is Zoë.”

  “And that would make you Helen’s daughter?”

  “You know my mother?”

  “She visited us last summer. Helen and her sister Ethel. If only the women in this valley had half as much sense as those two.

  “But they brought serious news. After listening, the Mothers took a vote and decided not to meet with the Bearded Men last summer. You may not understand the significance of that decision, Zoë, but Jon ought to. Any change in how we do things here requires a massive act of will—and this one was especially difficult, particularly for the younger women. The men, of course, had no idea we’d made the decision. They appeared at the near end of Bent Lake just as they do every year, strutting around like roosters, but this time they found no one to greet them, so they proceeded to the gate of our valley and would have entered it if we’d let them. They stormed and threatened and raged, which was the very thing they shouldn’t have done. When we voted whether or not to meet them, the nays won by the slimmest of margins. But after their performance at the gate, few here regard them without horror.

  “Trying to frighten us all the more, the men pillaged some of the houses by Bent Lake on their way home. But that didn’t help them either, for now the villagers know them for what they are, just as we do. Your mother helped in that, too, Zoë. That’s why she’s at Bent Lake now—she and Ethel. They said we c
ould take care of ourselves but there was work to be done in the village, and I know what she meant—although I’m not so sure we can take care of ourselves.

  “But, now, who are these men and women you’ve brought to our valley? I hope they can fight, because, as I told Marge, we need help.”

  The same prompting that had counseled Zoë not to tell Marge that the Emperor was on the mountainside now told her it was best to reveal that fact to Lyla.

  “We came with the Emperor himself,” she said.

  Lyla stopped short.

  “The Emperor? I have to believe you—Jon wouldn’t joke about anything so serious, and I can see from his face that the two of you aren’t joking.”

  “Yes,” Zoë replied. “The Emperor is with us—along with his kitchen staff.”

  “His kitchen staff? Your story becomes more wonderful by the minute. Is he coming here to give a banquet?”

  “No. They were the only ones who remained after the defeat of his father’s army.”

  “They and the librarian,” Jon added. “Although the librarian isn’t with us now.”

  “The kitchen staff and the librarian—well, what more do you need? Food for the stomach and food for the head. But how do you come to be in this illustrious company? Or should I ask, how did they meet up with the two of you?”

  “I went to Kar,” Jon replied. “Just as I told you I would, Mother Lyla.”

  “And did you remember me when you entered the city? You made a promise.”

  Jon hung his head.

  “No. I forgot.”

  “That’s only to be expected. If I’d been in your place, I would have forgotten, too. When I was young it was easy to let something unimportant slip my mind—especially in the excitement of arriving at a new city. And now, at my age, I forget more than I remember. But why are we standing here? I want to meet this emperor of yours.”

  When they reached the far end of the White Wall, the last of the climbers was making his final descent. Those who’d already reached ground stood together, guarded by Marge and her two bow-women.

  Lyla was breathing heavily and holding onto Jon for support. “I should have come up here more often,” she told him. “This is what comes of spending the day in an easy chair. Even an old lady needs exercise.” She paused for a moment, scanning the faces before her. Twilight had fallen, and some of the company were hidden in shadows, but she identified the person she’d been looking for, walked up to him, and knelt.

  “Your Imperial Majesty, on behalf of the Mothers, I welcome you to the Valley of Women.”

  “She could tell without either of us pointing him out,” Zoë whispered to Jon. “That proves he looks like an Emperor.”

  “Or it proves that Lyla knew what she was looking for.”

  “I accept your welcome,” the Emperor responded formally.

  Then, to her surprise, the Emperor knelt himself, put his hands under Lyla’s arms, and helped her up.

  “You are kind to an old woman,” she said. ‘Especially when your arrival met with such . . .”

  “Precautions,” he said, finishing her sentence. “Precautions only to be expected at such a time.”

  “Your Majesty is kind. But look, the women are bringing torches to light your way to our village. But before they reach us I should tell you something—if I may.”

  “Of course.”

  Placing her hand on his arm, she walked away a few steps, so as not to be overheard by Marge and her women.

  “I represent the Mothers—the old women who dispense judgment or what passes for it here. But in coming to you, I assumed more authority than that body might have granted had they known the identity of their guests. In fact, I took advantage of their hurry. So, when we reach the village, you may find some who question my judgment.”

  She looked at him carefully; then she smiled.

  “I must be blunt. I have no doubt that you are in fact the Emperor. Even in this corner of the world news has come of your father’s death and your flight from Kar. At least some say that you fled. Others, I must tell you, believe you were killed; and still others, that you are a prisoner of the Chosen. Over the last months, many have reached Bent Lake, and each told a different story.

  “It would be flattery to pretend that I recognized your noble bearing. But the truth is, Jon and Zoë had told me you were with them, so I eliminated all who fell short of the appearance of an Emperor. I’m afraid I identified you by default, but, hearing you speak, I know I chose the right man.

  “Still, even though I’m sure you are the Emperor,” Lyla continued, “others will expect proof beyond what I’ve asked for. Not many are as willing to rely on appearances as I am.”

  “And you want to know if I have that proof?”

  “Yes.”

  He laughed.

  “I’m afraid I left my crown in Kar.”

  “Have you nothing?”

  “Nothing but my word.”

  “Well, we’ll have to rely on that. Fortunately, many have left the valley, so there’ll be fewer for you to convince. Most of the able-bodied women are off defending the entrance to Bent Lake. We learned days ago that the Bearded Men and their allies had massed at the foot of the pass. The women believe the Chosen have come to aid the Bearded Men, and that once we overcome the second, the first will go home. But I’m certain the opposite is the case, for the Chosen are our real enemies.”

  “You are right about that,” the Emperor told her. “The Chosen are a greater enemy than you can imagine.”

  “And that means that even if we turn back the first wave of invaders, there are more behind them.”

  “Many more, but perhaps not that many. At least not at present. They’ve sent an entire army to subdue what they probably consider a handful of opponents. It’s not likely that reinforcements are on the way. And if they sent for them tomorrow it would be many weeks before they arrived, so, for the time being, the army we see is the army we must keep at bay.”

  “Have you seen them yourself?” Lyla asked.

  “That’s the problem. I haven’t, so it’s impossible to know how many troops they have.”

  “I counted three thousand men in white.” It was Peter speaking. He had been standing at a discrete distance while Lyla conversed with the Emperor, but now he advanced. “I didn’t keep track of all the refugees heading for Bent Lake, but when I saw an army on the Great Road I watched them pass and counted carefully. But of course that was two days ago. More men might have followed.”

  “Thank you for that information, Peter. Once more you prove invaluable,” the Emperor said.

  At the sound of Peter’s voice, Lyla had turned to look at him. Then, when the Emperor spoke his name, Jon observed her quiver slightly.

  “Three thousand plus a few hundred Bearded Men,” she said. “It seems a large number, given how few we have to oppose them. But we have no choice. Only minutes ago a runner from Bent Lake brought word that the Bearded Men have entered the pass. By now the fighting must have begun.”

  “How is the pass defended?” Zoë asked.

  “On level ground, the enemy’s horses would give them an advantage, but not in the high slopes. We stationed archers above the midpoint of the pass, where the way is steepest and narrowest, and we’ve blocked the road with a wall of stone and timber that’s guarded by women from this valley along with men and women from Bent Lake.”

  “It sounds like a good plan,” the Emperor said.

  “As far as it goes. But we have only so many archers and they have only so many arrows. That was one of your mother’s accomplishments, Zoë. She trained Bent-Lakers with the bow and taught them to make arrows. But if enough of the enemy can get beyond the archers, they could overwhelm the wall and its defenders. Our best hope is fear. If we kill or wound enough in their initial assault, they may withdraw. And when they return—for they’re sure to return—we’ll have more warriors to oppose them.

  “We’re even training the boys who would have left last summer. At firs
t, the women resisted this plan, but when Helen suggested they go to live with the Bent-Lakers instead of remaining here, it was agreed to let them take up arms. They’re too young for hand-to-hand combat, but if they can handle a bow they’ll add to our numbers. And now you’re here, Your Highness. That gives us more reason to fight.”

  The women with torches arrived and the group began its descent to the village. Jon fell back to walk with the two bow-women who were bringing up the rear. They were surprised when he spoke to them, but the fact that one of the Mothers had approved his entering the valley made things right. Moreover, they remembered the story of Jon’s escape and considered it a brave act. Not everyone in the valley believed him a murderer.

  “And so you’ve actually been to Kar,” Naxa said. “Imagine that.”

  “It must have taken weeks to get there,” Philippa added.

  “Yes, it took a very long time.”

  “Tell us about it,” Naxa said.

  “Yes, we want to hear everything—but not tonight. It’s hard to talk when you’re walking downhill, and when we get to the bottom, who knows what’s going to happen? But later—when you have time to sit down for a good, long conversation.”

  “Okay.”

  “You promise?” Naxa asked.

  “Yes, I promise.”

  ▲

  The Mothers had left in confusion; hearing news of the enemy at the pass, they’d rushed to defend the gate to their own valley. Under the circumstances, Lyla judged that the best way to handle the Emperor’s reception was to treat it as a fait accompli. And what better place to achieve that end than the Hall of the Mothers? So she installed the Emperor and his company there, instructing Marge and her women to find bedding for them. At first, she considered separating the sexes, but decided that, when the time came, the Mothers should confront women and men together.

  Food was a problem, but why not have the Emperor’s staff prepare his dinner? With that thought, she gave Falco access to the larders and told him to take whatever he needed.

  “We women are honored to provide for their Emperor,” she assured him.