Kahless - Michael Jan Friedman [99]
His councilor sighed. “There’s nothing I can say, then, to talk you out of this? Nothing I can do to make you stay?”
Kahless put his hand on Anag’s shoulder. “You are a wise man,” he said, and an honorable one. But you talk entirely too much. Now come, son of Porus, walk me downstairs.”
With that, he hefted his pack and made his way to the ground floor. Anag followed a step behind him, saying nothing, no doubt still puzzling over his emperor’s motives.
Kahless wished he could have stayed and seen how Anag ruled. He wished he could have been assured of a smooth succession, and prosperity for his people, and the survival of Morath’s laws.
But there were no assurances in life. He had learned that long ago. Men might keep promises, but Fate bound itself to no one.
The emperor reached the foot of the stairs, crossed the anteroom, and made his way out into the courtyard. The gates were open. Beyond them, he could see the multitude that had gathered on either side of the road.
Some of the faces closest to him were familiar ones.
They were his retainers, those charged with seeing to his safety. No doubt, the news of his leaving had been more confusing to them than to anyone.
For a single, astonishing moment, he thought he caught a glimpse of Kellein in the crowd. She seemed to be waving to him, standing tall and beautiful in the fading light.
His heart leaped in his chest. How was it possible … his
Then he realized his eyes were playing tricks on him, and his heart sank again. But then, that happened when one got old.
Putting one foot before the other, he walked out through the gates, leaving Anag behind. Nor did he look back.
On one side and then the other, people pushed out from the crowd to speak to him. To appeal to him with their eyes. To pose the same question in different forms, over and over again.
“Master, where are you going?” asked one of his retainers.
He smiled, exposing teeth that were still sharp and strong. “To a place called Sto-Vo-Kor, was he answered.
“Where no one lacks sustenance or bends his knee to anyone else. Where in every hall, the clash of swords rings from the rafters. And where men hold honor above all else.”
In truth, he didn’t know where he was going, or how long he would survive. But it didn’t matter. Like an old rach’tor who couldn’t hunt anymore, he knew it was simply his time to go.
“Where is this Sto-Vo-Kor?” asked a woman.
Kahless thought for a moment. Then he pointed to the evening sky, where the stars were just making their presence felt.
“There,” he said.
Then he pounded the center of his chest with his fist.
The impact made a satisfying sound.
“And here,” he said.
Last of all, he pointed to his temple. He left his finger there for a moment.
“And here,” he told his people. “That is where you will find Sto-Vo-Kor.”
Inwardly, he chuckled. Such a cryptic answer. If he was lucky, they would puzzle over it for a hundred years to come.
There were other questions, other pleas for him to stay, other blessings heaped on him. But he didn’t stop to respond to them. He just walked east from the citadel, taking strength from their clamor.
Vorcha-doh-baghk! they cried. Vorcha-doh-baghk, Kahless.f All hail! All hail Kahless!
It was easy for him to go. They made it easy. With their adulation to lighten the pack on his back, Kahless the Unforgettable carved his name into Klingon history.
At least for a while, he thought. No one knew better than Kahless that nothing lasts forever.
The Modern Age Night had fallen in the city of Navrath, but the pinkish cast had remained in the sky. In the courtyard of what had been Unarrh’s house until just a few moments ago, Picard and his three companions watched Gowron hold their computer chip up to the light of a coal-filled brazier.
It was strange to see a symbol of modern technology in such a stark and primitive-looking place, under such a primal, foreboding sky. But somehow, the smile that reshaped Gowron’s face seemed even stranger.
The council leader did not often display a sanguine expression.