From Part 23 ...
Kal stared at the closed door.
He still had grave reservations about the wisdom of coming here.
He could have had Tek arrange this meeting in his Chambers.
That would have been the Kryptonian way.
Actually, the Kryptonian way would be not to do this at all.
But Kal felt he should.
And he hadn’t felt comfortable about summoning her to his residence.
So now, he was here, staring at her door. He knocked – although he wasn’t compelled to.
He waited – still unsure what he was going to say.
The door opened and she was there.
Neither spoke for a long moment.
Then she broke the silence with the first words his wife had ever spoken to him. “Lord Kal-El,” Za said. “I’ve been expecting you.”
Part 24
Kal cleared his throat. “You have?” he asked.
“There are rumours that you have a strong liking for your latest concubine – the alien woman.”
“That is true,” Kal said.
“I suspect you are here to inform me that your preference is that she be the woman who bears your heir,” Za said. “And as such, I will no longer receive your sample.”
For the first time ever, Kal searched the face of his wife. It was inscrutable – like a mask deliberately set to barrenness. Was she angry? Was she relieved? Was she feeling cast aside? Or was this the release she wanted? The clues he needed were not there. “Would you be accepting of not receiving the sample?” he asked.
“I have not spent the years of our marriage in idleness,” Za said. “I have studied Kryptonian Law in depth and I know I have no option other than to accept your decision – particularly as you will offer the people an alternate way to provide the heir they require.”
“But you,” Kal insisted. “How would *you* feel about it? Do you want children?”
“How I feel about anything has never been of the slightest significance,” Za said.
Kal searched her again – looking for anger ... bitterness ... hostility ... anything to give him a gauge on her feelings. He could discern nothing from amidst the emptiness. “I have failed you,” he said regretfully. “I did not understand about marriage.”
“You have treated me better than many Supreme Rulers before you treated their wives,” she said.
If she felt any animosity, it didn’t appear to be directed at him. “Are you hoping for a child?” Kal asked.
“Are you going to annul our marriage?”
Suddenly, Kal saw the way forward open up before him. “Would you prefer that?” he asked, trying not to sound too eager. “Then you could have the opportunity to marry someone of your choosing and raise your children with him.”
“No!” Za said emphatically.
Her sudden spark of fervour shocked him. Her face remained blank, but she could not hide the anxiety in her eyes. Kal felt the beginnings of a shared rapport. She had been born into this, just as he had. “Then it will not be annulled,” he assured her.
Za studied him for a moment, her fear abating, though he saw no hint of gratitude. “Why?” she asked. “It would be preferable for you and your wife if I had no further part in your lives.”
“Because it wouldn’t be right to do that.”
She didn’t respond for a time. “Publicly, I will be supportive of your new liaison,” Za said eventually, speaking slowly and carefully. “Although there is nothing I can do to prevent it, any suggestion of opposition from me could stir up the dissenters from the South.”
Kal felt his gratitude roll through him. “Thank you,” he said, knowing she wouldn’t understand his words, but hoping she would grasp his sentiment.
“In return for me quietly accepting my diminished position, there is a petition I desire from you.”
Another layer of surprise settled on Kal. He had been *married* to this woman for a decade and had not once considered her to be anything more than a political necessity. “What is your petition?” he asked, hoping he would be able to grant it.
“Should I bear a child, you will accept that child as yours.”
The multiple ramifications of Za bearing a child hit Kal like a volley of gunfire. From the maze of his confusion, he managed to extract the most pertinent point. “If he is not my child,” he said. “He should not have the birthright to become the Supreme Ruler.”
“If an heir is born to you and your wife, that child will inherit the mantle of leadership.”
“Unless your child is born first.”
“I have waited much time already,” Za said. “I am willing to wait until after the rightful heir is born.”
“I am unsure if there will be a child born to my second marriage.”
“Then without my child, the mantle will fall to Nor or his son.”
Kal looked into her eyes and saw – not the flare of ambition, but the flurry of deep concern. “That would mean the end of peace on New Krypton,” he said.
He saw the glimmer of agreement in Za’s eyes. “I have studied History as well as Law,” she said. “I believe that our only way forward is unity. I believe that if Nor ... or his son, or anyone from his family were to become the Supreme Ruler, unity would be unattainable.”
“I believe that too.”
“Then agree to my proposal,” Za said with a dash of feeling. “Should you and your wife have a child, New Krypton will have a Supreme Ruler of mixed blood. If you don’t, my child would be a preferable option to Nor.”
Kal hesitated. “How do I know I can trust you?” he said. “If you were to bear a child and I accepted that child as mine, how would I know that you would keep your word and not try to dislodge my own child from the mantle that is rightfully his?”
“Legally, there will be no proof my child is yours,” Za said. “I could not prove paternity because Nor and Ching will not ratify the provision of a sample. Therefore, if you accept the child, morally I will avoid disgrace, but legally it would be a simple matter for you to overrule my child’s claim to the mantle.”
Kal hesitated again. He could see the many positives in Za’s proposal. He knew keeping Nor from the absolute authority inherent in the position of Supreme Ruler was imperative to a peaceful future for New Krypton. But to allow the mantle to fall to a child of neither the House of El nor the House of Ra? Would that dishonour his family? His ancestors?
But unless he fathered a child, there could be no Supreme Ruler of mixed blood. The mantle had to fall to someone. And Nor’s family were the next in line.
And Lois? Would she see this as a possible solution?
“This is the best chance for our future,” Za said earnestly. “Not just your future and my future, but the future of New Krypton. Nor must be stopped. If you die without an heir, the South will rule and the people from the North and those committed to unity will be murdered or oppressed. We need *more* people, not less, if we are to overcome the difficulties of this planet.” She paused long enough to establish direct eye contact. “We can't allow all Kryptonians to pay for Nor’s obsession with power.”
Another layer settled on Kal’s mountain of shock. His wife was a woman of intellect and insight. A woman genuinely committed, just as he was, to the people they had been born to lead. “You have already chosen who will be the father of your child?” Kal asked, his curiosity piqued.
“I have said nothing to him,” Za said. “I have care for him and I believe he has care for me. But I am the wife of the Supreme Ruler and I have not dishonoured that.”
“I appreciate that,” Kal said, realising he did.
“My only dishonour has been that my primary purpose was to provide the planet with an heir – and in that, I have failed.”
“We both failed in that,” Kal said. He paused, wanting to ask a question, unsure how to. “Did ... did you receive my sample every month?”
Za looked at the floor. “Yes,” she said. “Although I had no way of knowing if what I received was the same as that which you’d given.”
Kal was sure there was no judicious response to this comment, so he said nothing.
“Every month,” Za continued, “I was disappointed that there was to be no child.”
“I was too,” Kal said, knowing it was the truth. “If there is someone else you love ... have care for, why do you not want our marriage annulled so you are free to pursue a life with him? Is it because of the shame that it would cause you and your family?”
“I would be aggrieved at causing my family shame, but that is not the foremost reason,” Za said.
“Then why?”
“On the annulment of our marriage, I become available to be taken by any of the Nobles,” Za said. “And Nor is the one with the first option to take me – either as a wife or a concubine.”
With deepening empathy, Kal understood her vulnerability - and his own inability to protect her should Nor decide to take her.
“Do we have an understanding?” Za asked.
“Yes,” Kal agreed. “Morally, I will accept any child you bear as mine.”
“Then finally, our marriage has achieved something,” Za said.
She waited. Kal knew she was waiting for him to turn, so she could shut her door.
He did and walked away, his mind buzzing.
+-+-+-+
In her room, Lois went through her meagre wardrobe and withdrew the short concubine dress and the white gown she had worn to the Reports.
She hadn’t asked Kal what clothing was usual for a bride on New Krypton, but she was sure he wouldn’t mind what she wore.
And somehow, it was important that she wear white.
She had two options – neither would have been her choice had she had the luxury of a wider selection.
Lois tried to imagine herself walking towards Kal wearing the short concubine dress. Then she switched and clothed herself in her long white gown.
From the far corners of her mind came another vision. Her ... in a beautiful white dress ... and her father ... beside her. Lois’s tears surged and tumbled down her cheeks.
This was her wedding.
This was supposed to be everything she had dreamed. The dress, the flowers, the shared excitement. Shared with her friends ... and more importantly, her family.
And as much as she loved Kal and as excited as she was about marrying him, it didn’t fill the cavernous hole inside her.
Lois crumpled on the bed. She had made so many compromises – she had accepted the proposal of a married man, she had accepted the ongoing status of his first marriage, she had accepted that her wedding would bear little resemblance to her dreams or expectations.
And each compromise had taken her a step closer to drowning in her alienation.
She had told herself that Kal more than made up for all the things she had thought would be hers and now would not be.
And he did.
But the absence of her family coursed through her like acid.
She could imagine her mom – excited ... difficult ... insistent ... probably adding stress by the bucket load - but that was how Lois had always imagined her wedding.
And her dad – proudly accompanying her up the aisle.
And Lucy – as her bridesmaid.
And Perry – gruffly trying to pretend he wasn’t the least affected by such frivolity, but rejoicing with her in his dear old heart.
And Jimmy – giving his camera the best work out it had ever had.
Lois’s tears fell freely. She was marrying the man of her dreams. But the wedding of her dreams would never be hers.
It didn’t matter, she told herself fiercely.
It didn’t matter.
But it did.
Lois stood and through the blur of her tears again considered the two dresses. She would wear the concubine one, she decided impulsively. She had worn it to become Kal’s – it seemed fitting that she wear it to become his wife.
As she put the long white gown on the hanger, Lois heard a knock at the door.
Quickly, she dried her cheeks and thrust away her heaviness. She opened her door.
Mo stood there.
“Mo,” Lois said, trying not to allow her surprise to creep into her greeting.
“Do you mind that I came?” Mo asked hesitantly.
“No, of course not,” Lois said, as she stepped back. “Come on in.”
Mo hesitated. Then she thrust forward the bundle of papers she held in her hand. “I want to read you this,” she said breathlessly.
Lois smiled in encouragement. “All right,” she agreed.
Mo read from the papers. It was a story – the story of a little girl who had gone into the fields to pick flowers and had tried to find a flower of every colour.
When Mo finished reading, she looked hesitantly at Lois.
“That is a beautiful story,” Lois said.
“Is it?” Mo said, unconvinced.
“Yes,” Lois said. “It is sweet and well written and you describe everything on the walk so wonderfully well I could see it all clearly.”
“It isn’t my idea,” Mo said. “Ard told me about how she would go out on Krypton and try to come home with flowers of many different colours.”
“It *is* a great idea,” Lois said. “But all great ideas need a writer to put them into words so others can share it.”
“Is it all right that I did it?”
“Did you enjoy writing it?”
The tiniest spark of enthusiasm lit Mo’s eyes. “When I got the idea, I couldn’t stop thinking about it and then when I had written it down, I felt very good.”
Lois smiled, understanding exactly what Mo meant. “I feel like that too.”
“You do?”
“Yes,” Lois said. “Are you going to ask Ard to draw the pictures?”
“Would you mind?” Mo said.
“No, of course I wouldn’t mind. I think it is a wonderful idea.”
“But you are the one who writes the books,” Mo said.
Lois smiled. “That doesn’t mean I have to be the only one who writes the books. I am very happy for someone else to do it too.”
Mo did the thing Lois was beginning to recognise as a Kryptonian smile – not with the mouth, but with a lightening of the eyes. “You don’t mind if I write other books?”
“I think you should write as many books as you want to. Clearly you have a talent for it.”
“Do you mean that?” Mo asked.
“Yes, I do,” Lois said gravely.
Mo turned and walked away. As Lois watched, Mo went, not to her own room, but to Ard’s room. When Ard appeared, Mo gave her the book and explained her request.
Lois closed her door with a satisfied smile.
+-+-+-+
Kal and Lois met for their evening meal. Tek brought the food, Lois sat on the bed, Kal sat on the chair.
“Can I turn off our Translators?” Kal asked. “I was hoping to last night, but so much else happened, there was no opportunity.”
“Sure,” Lois agreed, thinking again of what Riz had said about why so few Kryptonians knew a second language.
Kal gently slid his fingers through her hair, then moved his hand to his left ear.
“Kal, I really appreciate your desire to learn my language,” Lois said. “I was with Riz today and she explained how the translators were so necessary when you needed a way to survive the destruction of Krypton, but how their continued use is actually a de-motivation for anyone to learn a second language.”
“Dom’s ear piece is good,” Kal said, “But it will stop true ...”
“Communication,” Lois supplied for him.
“I wanted ... more with you.”
Lois smiled. “I didn’t like the idea at first,” she admitted. “I was scared of being isolated if my translator didn’t work.”
“I want you feel safe now.”
“I do,” Lois said. “I cannot imagine feeling anything other than safe with you, Kal.” He smiled in response, but Lois’s thoughts had quickly moved on. To Nor. Nor whom she was sure had intentions to threaten Kal’s safety. “Have you scheduled the cabinet meeting?” she asked.
“Yes. For the morning.”
“What are you going to tell them?”
“I tell them I am to marry you the next day.”
“Will you inform the people?”
“I will inform ... Report ... in the afternoon.”
“How do you expect the people will react to the news?”
“I cannot tell.”
Lois wished she didn’t care if the Kryptonian people approved of her marrying their leader, but she did. “Is it possible I will not win their approval unless I supply the heir they need?”
“That is possible,” Kal said. “Does that trouble you?”
“I am unsure of the future ... for you, for me and for any child we may have.”
“Because of Nor?”
“Yes.”
“Lois, I don’t think Nor will try to kill me. Or you. Or the child of ours.”
“He killed Mo’ and Jib’s sister,” Lois said. “And I believe the timing of Kip’s death is highly suspicious.”
Kal didn’t disagree. “Nor had times to kill me.”
“When you were in hiatus?”
“No. Not hiatus. But in the first times after my hiatus.”
“Nor’s father was still alive then, wasn’t he?”
“Yes – Ked.”
“Was Ked like Nor?”
“Yes. Like Nor, Ked did not care about what is right.”
“When Tek told the cabinet about the annex he’d designed, Nor insisted on a longer than usual trial period,” Lois said.
“Yes.”
“That trial period is nearly over?”
“In less than two weeks.”
“Why doesn’t Nor want the children to be able to communicate?”
“Because he fears it will help unity.”
“Then why not push for a period of three years?” Lois asked. “Or four years? Why two years and one month?”
“Yent and I spoke for either the annex or a rule for all children to learn both languages.”
“So Nor accepted the annex because for him, it was less of a threat than proper communication?”
“That is my believe.”
“It still doesn’t explain the extra month,” Lois insisted. “Kal, I think Nor has a plan. A plan that comes to fruition in the next two weeks.”
“There are no moves to train or ... give weapons to men,” Kal said.
“How do you know?”
“I have ... people who ...”
Lois gulped in shock. “You have *spies*?”
Kal nodded. “Spies. I have people who want unity and peace – people Nor believes are fight men of the South.”
“And you trust these men?” Lois questioned. “What if Nor has planted them to mislead you?”
“That is possible,” Kal conceded. “But I have to trust someone. The task is to wise pick who to trust.”
“If Nor isn’t planning an armed attack, could he have another means to wrest the control of New Krypton from you?”
“How?”
Lois took a few moments to allow her brain to catch up with her mouth. “Could he call a vote of no confidence in your leadership? Could he initiate an election and have the people vote him into power? Could he have a technicality in the Law he could use?”
“I am the Supreme Ruler by birthright,” Kal said. “The people cannot vote me out. I have read the Law and I can find nothing of use to Nor.” He placed their barely-touched food on the floor and took her hand. “Please don’t be afraid, Lois,” he said. “In two days, we will be married. And together, we are more than enough.”
Lois forced a smile for him, but her instincts refused to be appeased. She was sure Nor wanted to rule New Krypton. She was sure the extra month for Tek’s annex was relevant. “Didn’t Nor’s father write the law of New Krypton?" she asked. "With Yent?”
“Yes,” Kal said. “But they could not ...” He stopped. “I don’t have words I need.” He reached across and slid his fingers through Lois’s hair and then turned on his own translator. “Ked and Yent could not legislate any Law they wished.”
“Then how did they do it?”
“Any Law common to both the North and the South is Canon. Those Laws could not be changed in any way. The Laws similar were adapted and a compromise reached. Those Laws from one side, but unrepresented on the other side were dismissed unless there was good argument for their inclusion.”
“Were Ked and Yent accountable to anyone?”
“Yes,” Kal said. “Two experts in Law, one from each side of the border, authorised every Law not common to both sides. Both of these men were old and much experienced and learned. Both have now passed away.”
“Do you have the authority to change a Law?”
“Not the Canon Law,” Kal said. “That cannot be changed. Other Law can be modified, but the process is long and tedious and involves many steps.”
“If Nor were the Supreme Ruler, wouldn’t he have the constraints of these laws?”
“Officially, yes. But if one is willing to kill anyone who rises in opposition, there is little that can be done to stop a Supreme Ruler from ruling as his heart directs.”
“And Nor’s heart is evil,” Lois said, shivering with the foreboding inherent in her words.
“Yes.”
“The Law is written in those big books in the chambers?”
Kal took Lois’s hand and led her from the bedroom and into the chambers. He pointed to the series of volumes on the shelves. “This is the Law of New Krypton,” he said.
“Is that the only copy?”
“This is the original. There are copies available to anyone who wishes to read or study the Law.”
“Where is the law of Krypton? The law from the north and the south?”
Kal pushed against the side of the bookcase and it slid easily to the left. Built into the wall was a door with a knob embedded into it. Kal turned the knob and Lois heard irregular clunking sounds from within it. After a considerable time – more than thirty seconds – the door swung open. “The original Law from both sides is kept in here.”
Lois peered in and her nostrils filled with the unmistakable mustiness of ancient paper. She could make out several piles of yellowed pages bound with tattered string.
“These books are many hundreds of years old and extremely fragile,” Kal said. “No one is permitted to touch them without good reason.”
“Does everyone know they are here?”
“The people know they are in existence, but for security reasons, their whereabouts remain a secret.”
“But you told me?”
“We have no secrets, Lois,” Kal said with a little smile. He closed the door and turned the knob, then replaced the bookcase. “The bookcase is built on castors making it easy to move,” he explained.
Lois stepped to him and slid her arms around his neck. “Thank you for trusting me,” she said.
Kal smiled. “I cannot ask you to trust me without returning trust to you,” he said.
He kissed her and Lois’s thoughts quickly banished the tedium of ancient law and embraced the excitement of being with Kal. His thoughts had seemingly moved likewise because he backed away with a smile that was a mix of lingering enjoyment and sharp regret. “What do you plan to wear to our wedding?” he asked.
“It is traditional in my country on Earth for the woman to wear white.”
“White is perfect.”
“What do you intend to wear?”
Kal hesitated. “I am unsure what you prefer.”
Lois grinned suddenly. “Anything but the black suit.”
Kal tried to smother his grin. “You don’t want the black suit?”
“No.”
The pull of his smile deepened. “Why?”
His eyes held an ambrosial mix of love and affection and deep contentment. Lois felt her own smile being drawn from her heart and fashioned upon her face. “You know *exactly* why,” she accused.
“I’d like you to tell me,” he said.
“Because it is just possible that those levels of temptation could be dangerous to my health,” she retorted. “And yours too.”
Kal smiled and exhaled with a soft gurgling sound.
Lois couldn’t contain the small squeal that lunged from her mouth. “Kal! You laughed!”
“I did?”
“You did,” Lois confirmed. “I’ve been so hoping you would laugh.”
“You liked it?”
“Oh, yes.”
Kal looked pleased. “I like your laugh. It always makes me feel good inside.”
“Your laugh did that to me.”
“Then I must do it again.”
“I’d like that.”
Kal’s fingertips delved into her hair and Lois assumed he was going to turn off her translator again. “Kal, you are close to fluent in my language already,” she said. “I barely notice any differences when our translators are off.”
“I have been attempting to think in your language to enable me learn more quickly.”
“You can *think* in my language?”
Kal nodded. “Mostly.” Instead of turning off her translator, his hand moved past it and unhurriedly slid the length of her hair.
Lois was torn between exploring Kal’s astounding ability in language and concentrating on the delicious exploration of his fingers across her scalp. “That is amazing,” she said.
“It wasn’t too difficult.”
“It would be for most people.”
“Maybe I just really, really wanted to learn.” Kal stepped behind her and swept her hair from her neck. Lois felt the touch of his lips on her bare skin next to the neck of her gown. “Your skin tantalises me, Lois,” he said. The husky resonance of his voice drifted across her neck. “I love your shoulders.” His lips, warm and sensuous, touched her, half an inch closer to her spine. “And your neck.” Again, he kissed her, this time directly above her spine. “And your ears.” He scorched a trail of kisses towards her right ear. When he reached her lobe, she felt the gentle pull of suction as his mouth closed around it.
A thrill shuddered through her body and her knees pitched forward. Kal’s hands left her hair and his arms fastened around her waist.
She turned in the circle of his embrace. “Only two more nights alone,” she whispered.
“Only two,” he said. “The best night of my life was the night you stayed with me.”
“The next time I stay with you, it will be for much happier reasons,” Lois promised.
“Once we are married, we can be together every night.” Kal smiled. “*Every* night,” he repeated, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.
Lois returned his smile. “I can't wait.”
“We should return to our meal,” Kal said. “It will be getting cold.”
“I don’t feel hungry for food,” Lois told him.
A slow smile of understanding crept across his face. “Me either,” Kal said. “But you did not eat your lunch today and then had a ... mishap with the ocean. You should eat.” He unfurled from her and Lois walked from the chambers into Kal’s bedroom. As she passed the door, she felt the touch of his hand on her back. “Do you think your escape from the ocean could be related to being able to see through things?” he asked.
Lois sat on the bed. “I’ve thought about it and maybe that’s possible.”
Kal replaced the plate on his lap. “When you were on Earth, did you have any astonishing escapes?”
“I had a few close calls,” Lois conceded. “I have a tendency to ignore potential danger when I’m chasing down a story ... but whenever I went too far ... I would pay for it.”
“Did you hit the rocks today?”
“Yes. Twice.”
Kal winced. “Are you sure you have no injuries?”
“Absolutely certain.”
Kal grinned suddenly. “I should remember never to get into a physical fight with you.”
Lois laughed.
“That was a joke,” Kal told her. “I would never fight with you.”
“I could tell it was a joke,” she said, smiling.
“Was it funny?”
“Yes, it was.”
“Good.”
After they had eaten and worked through every dispute on the much-diminished pile, Kal walked Lois to the Concubine Quarters for the second to last time.
At her door, Kal kissed her. “Good night, my Lois. The only thing giving me strength to leave is the knowledge I only have to do this one more time.”
Lois released him from her hold. “Good night, my Kal,” she said. “I love you.”
“I love you,” he said. “Whatever happens, I will always love you, Lois.”
