The Flight from Kar (The Emperor's Library

by Frederick Kirchhoff

  He quickly grasped the situation.

  “We’ll take what is necessary,” he said. “It’s been a long day; a simple meal will be best.”

  Still, this activity was bound to attract attention. Asked, Lyla told the plain truth: The Emperor had arrived in their hour of need, and they had to provide what he required. After all, another Emperor had granted them this land. If it was his to give, it was his successor’s to take away; they were merely returning what belonged to him. With enough women on her side, it would be difficult to undo the progress she was making, and thus far everything was going well. But she hadn’t reckoned on Marge.

  Just as Falco was serving dinner, a group of the Mothers appeared at the door. Led by a woman with flowing white hair and a wild look in her eyes, they brandished the weapons they’d carried to defend the valley.

  “What man dares sit in this sacred edifice?” the leader asked, drawing her sword with a sweeping gesture. All eyes were on her and she didn’t want to miss her chance for high theater.

  Jon and Klei exchanged glances. If the situation hadn’t been dangerous it would have been comic—but why did he always think of Klei at moments like this? And why, having ignored him for months, was Klei acknowledging his existence? Was it because they were back in the Valley of Women?”

  “Answer my question,” the woman demanded in an imperious tone. “What man dares sit in a place denied to all men? We have come to cleanse this hall of impurity—but it’s not merely the strangers who’ve brought this disgrace. One of our own—you, Lyla, have allowed it. Don’t try to deny what you’ve done. Marge told us everything. How could you betray our laws this way?”

  “Our laws were made by an Emperor,” Lyla replied, with a calm authority Jon had never seen in her before—certainly not at his trial. “And this Emperor has a right to alter what his ancestor decreed. Only a fool would hold the contrary.”

  “What nonsense, Lyla! There’s no emperor here. Only a bunch of sunburned men—and women, too—their whores, I’d wager—bringing shame to the valley.”

  She moved forward, and the women behind her began crowding into the hall. At that, the Imperial Guard ringed the Emperor and drew their swords, Marekko standing in the fore beside Falco.

  Jon was struck both by the violence of the women’s rage and, at the same time, by the absurdity of the circumstance. These were old women. If they attacked, they’d do harm—their blades were sharp—but they were no match for the younger men and women they threatened. It was hard to imagine the Emperor’s guard slaughtering a dozen grandmothers, but to defend the Emperor, what was the alternative? Yet that action could only mean conflict with the Valley of Women. How do human beings get themselves into such absurd situations?

  But then the Emperor did something Jon did not expect. He rose and approached the women at the door, signaling his guards to leave him unprotected. Even the women brandishing weapons were surprised.

  “Mothers of the Valley,” he addressed them, looking into their faces. No one had ever before addressed them in those precise words. They were “the Mothers,” and they lived in the Valley of Women. Did that make them “Mothers of the Valley”? None were sure. But the phrase sounded like the title an emperor might bestow. “Mothers of the Valley,” he repeated, allowing his words to resonate, “your Emperor comes to you at his time of need. The land you administer is a remnant of the Empire he once ruled. His enemies have pursued him here in an effort to destroy that Empire altogether—in an effort to obliterate our ancient ways and traditions, including those of this valley, established by my ancestors and sustained over the ages by your faithfulness.”

  They were listening to him—listening with rapt attention—and their anger was dissipating by the moment. The women had been trained to accept authority, Jon reminded himself; it was only natural that they’d find it difficult to resist the Emperor’s voice. And hadn’t Lyla said it was his word they would have to rely on?

  “Our adversaries are men who hate freedom—the freedom that has allowed you to prosper here; they seek to impose a tyranny that allows no dissent. They hate the Valley of Women, because here women rule their own lives. And they are here in an effort to crush that freedom, as they have crushed all who protest their bloody creed.”

  He looked at them long and hard as he said this. He was angry at the Chosen, but he was sorrowful at the suffering of his subjects; and he wanted that twofold message to resonate. It had never occurred to Jon that the man might have possessed the makings of an orator, but he was revealing those talents today and they were clearly effective.

  “If, being in this magnificent edifice, I trespass, know that it is out of ignorance, not disrespect. In difficult times it is easy to make small mistakes in struggling to achieve the greater good. When your friend Mother Lyla spoke of this hall where you make laws for your community, it seemed an appropriate place for me to stay—temporarily, of course—while my followers rested. I made that suggestion, and Lyla generously acquiesced to it. Had I known the favor I asked, I wouldn’t have made my request, for it is among of the liabilities of being an emperor that one’s requests are often taken as commands.

  “If there is a better place for us to rest tonight, please tell me and I and my guard will go there immediately. It need not be so beautiful a building as this. A roof over our heads is all that we ask for.”

  Some of the Mothers still eyed him suspiciously, but most had been won over. Who wouldn’t be? Never had the Emperor sounded so much like an Imperial Majesty. Zoë must have been proud of him. Even Jon found himself admiring the man’s daring—and the rhetorical net he had cast over his audience. He wasn’t exactly lying—except for what he’d said about Lyla, there was truth beneath his words—but that truth was clothed in what was very nearly falsehood.

  “No,” one of the Mothers at the door said—not the leader, but a small woman standing to her left. “You should stay put. I agree with Lyla. Our laws were granted by the Emperor; it’s his right to determine when they apply.”

  Other voices spoke in agreement. You couldn’t tell exactly what they were thinking, but the firebrand who’d led the Mothers into the hall slipped back and lost herself among the crowd.

  “Today,” the Emperor said, “we have traveled many miles. The hour is late and the brave men and women who have followed me from Kar must sleep, for tomorrow will bring danger to all. But, if it is your will, I shall forgo rest and spend the night in consultation; and then, at daybreak, we will go together to stand against the enemy.”

  Naturally, none took up his offer. They were old; the day had been as long for them as for the Emperor; and, on top of everything, the recent excitement had drained their energy. It was agreed all would now rest, but meet again at sunrise.

  ▲

  Later the following day, the Emperor admitted that he’d tried to sound as much like his father as possible.

  “Not your father,” Zoë told him. “You sounded like yourself—like your true self. It was the sun breaking though clouds.”

  Jon looked down at the floor and waited for the Emperor to change the subject. The man had learned how to use a tool—that was all. He’d done it better than Jon could have imagined. Yet how could trying to sound like his father reveal a true self? Raising his eyes, Jon glanced at Klei, who’d been close enough to hear the Emperor’s words. Jon was sure Klei was thinking the same thing he was thinking. As he had yesterday, Klei even looked back at him for a few seconds before he turned away.

  ▲

  They’d expected to be on the road at daybreak, but new information had delayed their departure. A second messenger had reported that only a small party had made yesterday’s attempt on the pass. Five had been killed by archers and several more wounded, and the survivors had retreated ingloriously. Some of the Mothers took this to mean that the danger was over, but those had not yet heard Peter’s account of their adversaries.

  They’re testing us, Jon had told himself. But why send the Brotherhood? Were they
simply using them to probe our defenses? The Chosen must know that the Brotherhood are expendable.

  “This gives us a breathing space,” the Emperor had announced, after meeting with the Mothers. “And if we counter them before they try the pass again the confusion will hold them in place for a while. I haven’t studied military strategy for nothing. But I need to know more.” And for that reason, he was going to Bent Lake.

  “Guard the entrance to your valley,” he told the Mothers. “We may have to fall back. It’s not likely, but be prepared for the worst. Still, you’re safe here as long as you stand fast.”

  A bunch of nonsense, but Jon was eager to leave the Valley of Women. He hated the place—yet he also wanted to talk to Lyla. She was the one piece of his past he didn’t want to disavow, so he was overjoyed to discover that she was making the journey with them.

  “I’ve cast my lot with your Emperor,” she told him. “He managed to bewitch a few of the Mothers—the man has a tongue—but once he’s gone it’s just as well I keep out of sight. I’m too old for swordplay, but there’s more to an army than swords.”

  She was right, of course, but Jon knew she was also coming to be with him. When she’d helped him the first time, he’d sensed a special feeling, but now he knew that Lyla loved him. What he didn’t understand was why.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Even at Jon’s first sight of the village, he recognized that Bent Lake must have been undergoing changes. Rough, unweathered houses now lined the approach to the older buildings next to the water, and others had been constructed on paths leading away from the lakeshore. Most were little more than shacks, and many used a common wall to save materials. Compared to the Valley of Women, Bent Lake looked flimsy, but the town was clean and flowers had been planted at nearly every doorstep, making the point that the residents were here to stay.

  But the new construction was only part of the picture. Crops were near harvest on what was obviously freshly claimed land—the remains of trees and their stumps were lined up along the edges of the fields; and on the south shore of the lake, other newly-cleared plots climbed the hills. If anything, Peter must have underestimated the number of new settlers. Yet plenty of land remained empty, and more refugees could come without crowding, for this valley was larger by far than the Valley of Women.

  “This is quite a place,” Alf said. “But it was a mistake to build the town on this side of the lake. The best land is to the South. If it’s like the Valley of Women, the southern slopes start growing weeks before the ones over here.”

  How had Alf learned all that? He was a wonder.

  “They built the town here because that’s where the road was,” Jon pointed out.

  “You didn’t have to tell me that, Jon. It’s obvious why the town is here. But that doesn’t mean that the location wasn’t a mistake.”

  “Why are you so sure? The road couldn’t have run south of the lake. There’s no way to the Valley of Women on that side. The cliff’s too steep.

  “But they could have built a bridge.”

  “Why not a bridge here?” Jon asked.

  “Yes, why not? That’s a great idea. Where do you think the best place would be? We need to start planning.”

  “Not today, Alf. Besides, I think the Emperor may need of your advice on another matter.”

  ▲

  Herman, the man they’d encountered with his wife and daughter the day they’d set out for Kar, had become a leader among the Bent-Lakers. While the bow-women of the valley had taken charge of the first line of defense, Herman had overseen the construction of the wall that blocked the pass and now led the soldiers defending it.

  With Zoë, Jon, Alf and Falco at his side, the Emperor climbed the road up to this wall, where they met Herman and his comrades.

  “I’m no warrior,” the Emperor admitted. “But I’ve studied these matters, and I know my father and my brother underestimated the threat of the Chosen. They considered them a minor nuisance in an odd corner of the Empire and made no effort to prevent their proselytizing. They didn’t even send agents to spy on them, since the Chosen appeared to be hiding nothing. They talked on and on about their god—the deity who made all and sees all, but manages to keep hidden like a mouse in its hole. The idea was clearly ridiculous. However they were concealing a plan to take over the Empire itself. When they revealed this intention, my father saw his mistake, but then it was too late to stop them. Suddenly the mice were everywhere, with an army in the field.”

  “Are you saying there’s no way we can stop them now?” Herman asked with a disturbed look.

  “It’s too late to stop them in battle the way my father and brother tried. But we have no temptation to fall into that error. My thought is, we have to learn from the Chosen themselves. They grew powerful by winning trust, and that’s exactly what I intend to do myself. I must regain the trust of my people. The Chosen have their god, but the Empire has something stronger—an idea of the state that’s irresistible if it’s set forth in the right way. When they understand what we stand for, they’re sure to trust us.”

  “The Chosen employed fear more than trust,” Herman pointed out. “Are you planning to make men fear you?”

  The Emperor managed a laugh.

  “No, I don’t think so. It’s their patience I want to copy. They studied us carefully until they learned our weaknesses and then they turned that knowledge to their benefit.”

  “But how can you be patient when they have an army prepared to seize this valley?”

  “You held back the first assault, didn’t you?”

  “That wasn’t a real assault,” Herman said. “They sent a handful to test us. It wasn’t difficult to pick them off.”

  “That shows what they think of the Brotherhood. They use them to avoid casualties among their own. But now that they know where we’re stationed, they’ll be able to plan a better strategy.”

  “True—but the pass can be defended against more than made the first attempt,” Herman said. “The archers are situated on a ridge that’s accessible from our side of the mountain, but impossible to reach from the road below it. We’ve been making arrows day and night—and training men and women to use them. With proper support we could stop an army.”

  “You say the archers are inaccessible from the road, but couldn’t they be reached from the ridge above the pass?” Zoë asked.

  “I’m not sure. I don’t know the back country that well—but neither do the Chosen.”

  “But they must have scouts. If there’s a way to get above the archers, they’ll eventually locate it.”

  “Then we should locate it first,” Herman declared.

  “My mother is among the archers, isn’t she?” Zoë asked. “Her name is Helen.”

  “Your mother is Helen?” he asked, surprised to discover that this young woman with the Emperor was the same Forester he’d once met on the River Road. She looked so different today. She had been a girl then, but she was a woman now.

  “Yes. I’m her daughter.”

  “She’s with them—and her sister as well—your aunt that would be. They’ve been training men and women from the village to shape bows and arrows and shoot them accurately, and now they’ve joined the women guarding the pass.”

  Zoë turned to the Emperor.

  “I’m a Forester, and I know the wild. If there’s a way to a vantage above the marksmen, I’ll be able to find it. I’ve never explored this side of the Boundary Mountain—none of my family have—but it shouldn’t be difficult.”

  “And I’ll go with her,” Jon volunteered.

  The Emperor thought for a moment before he spoke.

  “But do nothing to put yourself in danger, Zoë. Promise me that. I don’t want you sneaking into the enemy camp or anything like that. Once was enough.”

  Zoë laughed.

  “I have no intention of getting any closer to the enemy than I have to.”

  “Well, be sure to hold to your promise. And, Jon, you make sure Zoë keeps
out of trouble.”

  How little he knows her, Jon thought.

  ▲

  Zoë and Jon decided to ascend the Boundary Mountain slightly west of the pass. Here, the heights of the mountain were more confusing than steep, with narrow canyons that turned out to go nowhere and chasms opening unexpectedly where softer rock strata had eroded. An ascent to the ridge of the mountain would be difficult here, but not impossible, and certainly less arduous than climbing the White Wall.

  They started the next morning. Low clouds lay over the valley, so it was a bad day for exploring, but they set off anyway, hoping the sky would clear as the day wore on. Zoë headed straight for a watercourse that wound upward through the foothills. For a time they seemed to have found an easy way uphill—until the ravine ended in a rock wall. There was no going further, so they backtracked to where a gully branched to the left. Following it, they eventually reached an incline strewn with boulders that stretched up into the clouds. It was impossible to tell what lay ahead, but Zoë decided to climb on.

  “We’ve come a long way toward the summit, and if we keep to this direction, we should find ourselves somewhere near where the archers are stationed.”

  “But in this fog we can’t see anything,” Jon reminded her.

  “Didn’t Grandfather teach you the saying, ‘Clouds in the valley, mountain clear’? There was something else about ‘Clouds on the hill,’ but I forget the rest. Anyway the first line’s the important one. It means we’re bound to see the sun if we continue climbing.”

  “But these clouds aren’t in the valley. They’re on the mountain.”

  “Well it was cloudy in the valley this morning, wasn’t it?”

  What was the use of arguing?

  They hadn’t gone much further before they were enclosed by fog so dense they could see only a few feet ahead.

  “All we have to do,” Zoë told him, “is to keep together and move slowly upwards—and be prepared to stop immediately if the ground falls in front of your feet.”