The Last Days of Krypton - Kevin J. Anderson [40]
Zor-El’s dark eyes were still red from exposure to the acrid smoke. “I’ve documented severe seismic activity, deep quakes that are sure to rock all of Krypton very, very soon.” He explained what he had discovered in the southern continent, to his brother’s growing alarm, and then he dejectedly admitted how he had lost the data. “I don’t know what it means, but I wanted to share this with you. I’ve never seen anything like it. That’s why I came to you.”
“The pressure in the core is building.” Jor-El’s expression was grave. “We could go see our father. Perhaps he can help.”
The dark-haired man was surprised at the suggestion. “But he won’t even know we’re there.”
“Nevertheless, we could use his wisdom now. We have to hope for some kind of reaction.”
Originally a summer cottage, the isolated dacha had been built in the forested foothills two hours’ journey from the estate. As his condition grew worse, old Yar-El and his wife, Charys, had chosen to live here in the shelter of tall trees, far from public view. The intimate home was constructed partly of fast-growing crystals, partly of stone, and framed and adorned with polished blackwood. Intricate wind chimes hung from rugged wooden rafters. As the two brothers arrived, the resinous forest air was utterly still, and only a rare tinkle of tones wafted around the small home.
Their gray-haired mother was outside tending her garden, a precisely arranged network of colorful herbs, vegetables, and blooming flowers. Though her face looked pale, and her shoulders were stooped, Charys straightened from her work to greet them with a genuine smile. “My boys!”
Jor-El stepped forward to hug her with his brother right behind him. “It’s been too long, Mother.”
“It’s been too long for both of you,” Charys scolded. She set down her gardening tools and led them up the walk to the porch. “Sometimes it gets lonely out here with only your father for company. I still prefer it to living in Kandor, though. I grew tired of the pitying stares from everyone I met, of so-called friends expressing sympathy. The worst were those who looked at me as if it were my fault—as if something I did cost Krypton the great mind of Yar-El.”
Zor-El was quick to show a flash of anger. “Who did that to you?”
“Now, don’t you worry. Come inside. Maybe your father will know who you are today, but I can’t guarantee it.”
The shadowy house smelled of sun-warmed wood and polishing oils. Jor-El looked around the kitchen area, remembering the meals their mother had made for them when they were young. In a conservatory room that looked out on the wooded hills, old Yar-El sat in a chair like a mannequin, silently staring into the blacktree forest.
“Look who’s come, Yar-El! Don’t you want to greet them?” Gently touching his shoulder, Charys turned the chair. The old man’s gaze remained fixed in a straight line, but she directed his head toward the two brothers. Jor-El looked for any sign of recognition, any flash in those once-brilliant eyes. His father didn’t blink.
“He’s quiet most of the time.” She lovingly stroked his smooth cheek; Jor-El could see that she shaved him every day. “I can remember the way he was. I had many wonderful years with Yar-El, and two wonderful sons. That should be enough for any person.”
She forced a smile, making herself appear strong and undefeated. “I sit with him while I work on my psychological treatise. I’ve made a great deal of progress in the last several months, and I’ll submit it to the Academy soon.” Charys looked at her husband with a wan smile. “Yar-El would be pleased to know that even after his…collapse, he’s still providing ways for us to increase our understanding. I watch him, quantify my observations, record my thoughts, and draw conclusions. That’s what he would do. My husband wouldn’t want to let such a striking problem go unsolved.”
“Too few people suffer from the Forgetting Disease to warrant a large-scale