The Myst Reader (100 page)

And indeed, now that they knew what to look for, they could. They could see the rounded shape of it, the depression at the center the way the edges of the water drop exploded outward, almost like flames, obeying eternal laws of physics.

Eedrah’s smile broadened. “Every district boasts three or four of them. And it is said the king owns a great park containing some of the finest in the land.”

Esel, who had been staring at the structure, wide-eyed, now looked back at Eedrah. “Perhaps we shall be fortunate enough to see them.”

“Perhaps…but look, through the gap in the hills there…that is where we are headed.
That
is Ro’Jadre.”

 

 

§

 

 

A great hill of marble faced them, tier upon tier climbing through the hills like the steps of giants. And set into the lowest of those steps, a great ring of blood-red stone that seemed to flicker, as if flames burned within its cool outer casing.

That ring surrounded a tunnel. They headed directly toward it now, across a long, high viaduct that stretched out, its attenuated arches elegantly spanning a gaping chasm.

Inside the tunnel, the door boomed shut behind them and once more the water rose with a great rush, lifting them up and up and up, through a series of locks until they emerged at the top of that great hill of marble, in a massive square pool, huge, tiered walls surrounding them on every side, one side of which glowed in the sun’s rays.

And there, standing on a great balcony in the sunlight, was Horen Ro’Jadre himself, wearing a pale cream flowing gown. He stood out, a tall, proud figure, his dark hair combed back severely from his head. Raising his arm he smiled down at them.

“Atrus! Catherine! Welcome to Ro’Jadre!”

 

 

§

 

 

The house of Ro’Jethhe had been impressive, but Ro’Jadre’s house was simply astonishing. The entrance hall alone, with its sweeping stairways and magnificent windows, was enough to take the breath, and the party from D’ni stood there, as Ro’Jadre came down to greet them, quite in awe of their surroundings.

Marrim watched Horen Ro’Jadre embrace Atrus, conscious of a change in him since the previous evening. Then the governor had seemed stern and distant even when he smiled or laughed, but today he seemed more at ease, much more relaxed in his own home.

If one could call something this palatial “home.”

“I am so pleased to see you all once more,” Ro’Jadre said, looking about him, including them all in his smile of welcome. Nearby stood two servants, in attendance, their heads inclined, their distinctive look—wine-red cloaks and wire-fine silver hair—familiar now.

“You must be hungry,” Ro’Jadre went on. “There are some light refreshments in the lower gallery. If you would come with me.”

They followed him through, into a long, low room, the light of which was completely different from outside, a faint, roseate glow that seemed to be frozen perpetually in that first, hopeful moment of the dawn. Marrim looked about her, trying to see how this was done—by lamps, or filters at the windows—but try as she might, she could not discern the source of it.

Miracles
, she thought, taking a couch. Terahnee was indeed a land of miracles.

The journey had not been long, but the air here seemed to feed the appetite, such that Marrim ate voraciously, surprised to find herself so hungry. Ro’Jadre’s “light refreshment” would on any other world have seemed a feast, but Marrim, along with the others, was beginning to get used to this level of casual opulence.

As for Horen Ro’Jadre, he watched them silently, picking at this and that, letting his guests eat and drink their fill. Only then, when he saw that most were satisfied, did he look to Atrus, and, smiling, say:

“I understand you are fond of books, Atrus.”

“Very fond. They are the lifeblood of a culture.”

“Indeed,” Ro’Jadre said, nodding gravely. “I also understand that you wish to know more about this land of ours.”

Atrus glanced at Eedrah, who was looking down. “That is so. I hoped to learn something of its history and development.”

“Its history…” There was a strange movement in Ro’Jadre’s face. “You mean you wish to know the names of its kings?”

“I…” Atrus paused, then. “Surely things have not always been like this?”

Ro’Jadre smiled genially. “I am sure that is the case.”

“Then there will be books, perhaps, that talk of how things once were.”

“Maybe,” Ro’Jadre said, with an uncharacteristic vagueness. He turned and snapped his fingers. At once one of the servants turned and vanished through the doorway.

Atrus, sensing some kind of awkwardness concerning the matter, let it drop. “Tell me, Governor,” he said, “how long will it take us to reach the capital?”

“Three days,” Ro’Jadre answered, reaching across to pluck a small black, oval fruit from one of the bowls. “But tonight you will stay here, as my guests. Before then, however, let me show you my house.”

He stood. “You asked me about history, Atrus. Well, this house has stood here, much as it is now, for close on four thousand years. And before then there was another house, and before that…” Ro’Jadre shrugged.

Four thousand years
…Catherine looked about her at the effortless elegance of the room. Unlike D’ni, which
felt
ancient, the very stones worn down beneath one’s tread, this place seemed newly built. Not a speck of dust met the eye, not a single sign of aging.

Frozen in time
, she thought, as she swung round and put her feet down onto the floor. Yet looking at these people, they seemed unaffected by that. There was nothing jaded about them; nothing to suggest that they lived their lives unchangingly. And as Atrus himself had commented, they were as agile of mind as the most learned Guildsman.

“Come,” Ro’Jadre said, leading them between the dark blue pillars and out into a high-ceilinged atrium, “let me show you where I work.”

 

 

§

 

 

Esel and Oma stood together at the center of the great workroom and slowly shook their heads in amazement. They had never seen a room like this—never guessed that such a room could even possibly exist, but here it was. Ro’Jadre called it his “laboratory,” yet, with its various balconies and levels, its side-chambers and raised sections, accessible by narrow stairways, it was more like a whole Guild House in itself. Great racks of chemicals filled one wall, while another had endless cupboards of equipment. And there were books, endless books, everywhere one looked, not to talk of the workbenches and the scientific apparatus, much of which the two D’ni did not recognize.

And everything gleamed, as if newly polished. Even the air seemed clean.

“Astonishing,” Esel said quietly, while beside him Oma simply stared.

“You are welcome to use it whenever you wish,” Ro’Jadre said, with that same open hospitality they had come to believe was universal in Terahnee. “What is mine is yours.”

Atrus gave a little bow. Then curious, he asked, “What are your own interests, Governor Ro’Jadre?”

“My interests?”

“Scientifically speaking…”

“Ah…” Ro’Jadre walked across and, reaching over one of the benches, took down a massive-looking ledger and opened it, turning it so that Atrus, who had followed him across, could see.

“I’m afraid…” Atrus began, but Ro’Jadre understood at once.

“The script…of course. It differs from your own, I understand. Well, what you see are my experiment notes.” He flicked back a few pages and indicated several diagrams, beside which were columns of figures and, on the page facing it, three beautifully drawn graphs. “I have been experimenting on inks. Following up an idea I had.”

Atrus stared at the pages, clearly fascinated, despite the difficulty of reading the Terahnee script. It was not
so
different when one concentrated.

“But enough of that,” Ro’Jadre said, leaving the book where it lay. “Come, let me show you the long gallery. There are things there from the Ages—grotesque and beautiful things—you will not have seen before.”

Oma and Esel stood there a moment, reluctant to move on, a look that was almost longing in their eyes. Then, glancing about them as they went, they followed Ro’Jadre out through the marble doorway.

 

 

§

 

 

It was another hour before one of the stewards showed them to their suite of rooms, high up on the east side of the great house. As Atrus stepped into the spacious apartment, it was to be met by the sight of four beautiful old books, their covers a deep, burnished yellow trimmed with black, laid out on the massive desk that filled one corner of the main room.

Atrus walked across and opened the first of the volumes. As yet he could not read the strange variant script, but he knew, without having to ask, that these were the books of Terahnee history Ro’Jadre had promised him.

The evening had been wonderful. There had been music and dancing, and games—associative and rhyming—and any number of other clever things; things that they had never imagined. His mind reeled when he thought of all the things they had witnessed. The sounds, the tastes, the sights…

“Do you still think these people are not D’ni?” Catherine asked, coming alongside him. “After all you’ve seen? They speak a dialect very close to D’ni. And they write Ages, exactly like the D’ni.”

Atrus smiled. “I concede that the likelihood of them being related to the D’ni is great. But I am certain that the truth is here, in these pages. I shall have Oma and Esel begin work on them at once.”

Catherine was quiet a moment, then she asked, “Does it not make you wonder, Atrus?”

“Wonder?”

“Oh, it’s just that I keep thinking about what Master Tergahn said. About the reason why this Age was linked to D’ni. For all this to exist and for the D’ni to know nothing of it…that seems…”

“Incredible?”

“Yes. And yet the Books were left there to be a link between the Ages. Why should that be?”

“Different paths,” Atrus mused.

“Yes, but why?”

Atrus smiled and gently tapped the open page. “The answer’s here, I warrant.” Then, closing the book, he went over to the door and threw it open. “Oma! Esel! Come! I have a task for you!”

 

 

§

 

 

Eedrah called for them before the entertainment that evening.

“We can call for the others on our way,” he began, as he stepped into the room, then stopped dead, seeing Oma and Esel seated at the great desk in the corner, Marrim and Irras talking with them animatedly.

“The histories,” Atrus explained. “We have been busy learning something of your world.”

“Something and nothing,” Eedrah said, then, smiling, went on, “As the prophecies say, ‘Through such tiny cracks the past seeps through to the present.’ “

Catherine stared at Eedrah, surprised. “You’ve
heard
of the prophecies here in Terahnee?”

“Rumors and old wives’ tales, mainly. But there are those in the city who have spent a lifetime studying such things. Great scholars who fill their lives searching through ancient books to find some snippet here, some snippet there.”

Catherine looked to Atrus, but Atrus seemed uninterested. He had wandered over to the desk again, where Oma was quietly but insistently making a point about a line of text he had translated. For a moment she hesitated, then asked, “Would it be possible to arrange a meeting with one of these…scholars?”

Eedrah shrugged. “I guess so. I don’t see the harm in asking. And it’s said these scholars love to talk of what they know.”

Catherine smiled. “You seem a race of scholars, Eedrah.”

“And so we are. But come…the governor awaits us. I understand he has arranged a very special entertainment in your honor.”

Atrus turned back at this news. “Then we shall leave the books for now. Come, Oma, Esel. There will be time for that on our journey. Our host awaits us.”

 

 

§

 

 

The governor stood before the door, a faintly amused smile on his face. It was, even by normal standards, a small door, barely large enough for a young child to pass through.

“Who will be first?” Ro’Jadre asked, looking from one to another of his guests. “You, Atrus? Or maybe you, young Marrim?”

Marrim glanced at Atrus, then nodded. “You say that once inside I must choose within thirty seconds or all of the doors close?”

“That is correct,” Ro’Jadre answered. “Sometimes there are two choices, sometimes three. Sometimes you will have to climb, sometimes you will need to descend, but always…
always
you have only thirty seconds to do so.”

“And at the end of it?” Catherine asked.

“You will see. So, Marrim, are you ready?”

“I am.”

“Then go through. We shall see you again…sooner or later.”

Marrim did not quite like the sound of that, but she was committed now. Putting her hand against the door, she pushed, then stepped inside, into a room that was no bigger than a cell. As the door closed behind her, she noted the doors to her left and right, but she had already decided. She would go straight as far as she could go. Two paces took her to the second door. She pushed it open and stepped through.

This room was longer, thinner, the ceiling higher. There was a door in the ceiling but no doorway to her right. Yet even as she took a step toward the facing door, the floor beneath her seemed to move—to turn, though how it could turn she did not know. There were faint noises in the walls. Feeling slightly dizzy, she made her way across to the door facing her. Or was it the left hand door now? She double-checked, the counting in her head warning her that fifteen seconds had already passed.