The Myst Reader (36 page)

“Ah, Aitrus. Working late again?”

“Yes, Guild Master.”

Jerahl grinned paternally. “Knowing you, you’ll be so engrossed in some experiment, you’ll miss your supper. You want me to bring you something through?”

“Thank you, Guild Master. That would be most welcome.”

“Not at all, Aitrus. It’s good to see such keenness in a young guildsman. I won’t say it to their faces, but some of your fellows think it’s enough to carry out the letter of their instructions and no more. But people notice such things.”

Aitrus smiled.

“Oh, some find me foolish, Aitrus, I know. It’s hard not to overhear things on a tiny ship like this. But I was not always a cook. Or, should I say,
only
a cook. I trained much as you train now, to be a Surveyor—to know the ways of the rock. And much of what I learned remains embedded here in my head. But I wasn’t suited. Or, should I say, I found myself better suited to
this
occupation.”

“You
trained
, Master Jerahl?”

“Of course, Aitrus. You think they would allow me on an expedition like this if I were not a skilled geologist?” Jerahl grinned. “Why, I spent close on twenty years specializing in stress mechanics.”

Aitrus stared at Jerahl a moment, then shook his head. “I did not know.”

“Nor were you expected to. As long as you enjoy the meals I cook, I am content.”

“Of that I’ve no complaints.”

“Then good. Go on through. I shall bring you something in a while.”

Aitrus walked on, past the bathing quarters and the sample store, and on into the tail of the craft. Here the corridor ended with a solid metal door that was always kept closed. Aitrus reached up and pulled down the release handle. At once the door hissed open. He stepped through, then heard it hiss shut behind him.

A single light burned on the wall facing him. In its half-light he could see the work surface that ran flush with the curved walls at waist height, forming an arrowhead. Above and below it, countless tiny cupboards held the equipment and chemicals they used for analysis.

Aitrus went across and, putting his notebook down on the worktop, quickly selected what he would need from various cupboards.

This was his favorite place in the ship. Here he could forget all else and immerse himself in the pure, unalloyed joy of discovery.

Aitrus reached up, flicking his fingernail against the firemarble in the bowl of the lamp, then, in the burgeoning glow, opened his notebook to the page he had been working on.

 

 

§

 

 

“Aitrus?”

Aitrus took his eye from the lens and turned, surprised he had not heard the hiss of the door. Jerahl was standing there, holding out a plate to him. The smell of freshly baked
chor bahkh
and
ikhah nijuhets
wafted across, making his mouth water.

Jerahl smiled. “Something interesting?”

Aitrus took the plate and nodded. “You want to see?”

“May I?” Jerahl stepped across and, putting his eye to the lens, studied the sample a moment. When he looked up again there was a query in his eyes.

“Tachylyte, eh? Now why would a young fellow like you be interested in basaltic glass?”

“I’m interested in anything to do with lava flows,” Aitrus answered, his eyes aglow. “It’s what I want to specialize in, ultimately. Volcanism.”

Jerahl smiled as if he understood. “All that heat and pressure, eh? I didn’t realize you were so romantic, Aitrus!”

Aitrus, who had begun to eat the meat-filled roll, paused and looked at Jerahl in surprise. He had heard his fascination called many things by his colleagues, but never “romantic.”

“Oh, yes,” Jerahl went on, “once you have seen how this is formed, nothing will ever again impress half so much! The meeting of superheated rock and ice-chill water—it is a powerful combination. And
this
—this strange translucent matter—is the result.”

Again Jerahl smiled. “Learning to control such power, that is where we D’ni began as a species. That is where our spirit of inquiry was first awoken. So take heart, Aitrus. In this you are a true son of D’ni.”

Aitrus smiled back at the older man. “I am sorry we have not spoken before now, Guild Master. I did not know you knew so much.”

“Oh, I claim to know very little, Aitrus. At least, by comparison with Master Telanis. And while we are talking of the good Guild Master, he was asking for you not long back. I promised him I would feed you, then send you to his cabin.”

Aitrus, who had just lifted the roll to his mouth again, paused. “Master Telanis wants me?”

Jerahl gestured toward the roll. “Once you’ve been fed. Now finish that or I shall feel insulted.”

“Whatever you say, Master!” And, grinning, Aitrus bit deep into the roll.

 

 

§

 

 

Aitrus stopped before the Guild Master’s cabin and, taking a moment to prepare himself, reached out and rapped upon the door.

The voice from inside was calm and assured. “Come in!”

He slid back the heavy bolt and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. That much was habit. Every door in the craft was a barrier against fire or unwelcome gases. Turning, he saw that Master Telanis was at his desk looking at the latest survey chart. Facing him across the table was Master Geran. Also there were the four Observers who had joined them three days back. Aitrus took a step toward them and bowed.

“You sent for me, Guild Master?”

“I did. But if you would wait a moment, Aitrus, I must first deal with the news Master Geran has brought us.”

Aitrus lowered his head, conscious that the Legislator—the big man, Kedri—was watching him closely.

“So, Geran,” Telanis went on, indicating the bright red line that ran across the chart in front of him, “you recommend that we circumvent this area?”

The blind man nodded. “The fault itself is narrow, admittedly, but the surrounding rock is of low density and likely to collapse. We could cut through it, of course, and shore up on either side, but I’d say there is more to come the other side of that.”

“You know that?” Kedri asked, interrupting the two.

Geran turned his blank, unseeing eyes upon the Legislator and smiled. “I do not
know
it, Master Kedri, but my instinct is that this is the mere root of a much larger igneous intrusion. Part of a volcanic system. Imagine the roots of a tree. So such things are. As excavators, we try hard to avoid such instabilities. We look for hard, intact rock. Rock we have no need to support.”

Kedri looked puzzled at that. “But I thought it was your practice to support everything?”

Telanis answered him. “We do, Guild Master. As I said, we are very thorough. But if it is as Master Geran says—and long experience would tend to bear him out—we would do well to drill sideways a way before continuing our ascent. After all, why go courting trouble?”

“So how long will this…
detour
take?”

Telanis smiled pleasantly. “A week. Maybe two.”

Kedri looked far from pleased, yet he said nothing. Relieved, Telanis looked to Geran once more.

“In the circumstances I approve your recommendation, Master Geran. We shall move back and across. Arrange the survey at once.”

Geran smiled. “I shall do it myself, Guild Master.”

When Geran was gone, Telanis looked across at Aitrus.

“Aitrus, step forward.”

Aitrus crossed the narrow cabin, taking the place Geran had just vacated. “Yes, Guild Master?”

“I want you to place yourself at Guild Master Kedri’s disposal for the next eleven days. I want you to show him how things work and explain to him just what we are doing. And if there’s anything you yourself are uncertain of, you will ask someone who
does
know. Understand me?”

Surprised, Aitrus nodded. “Yes, Guild Master.” Then, hesitantly, “And my experiments, Guild Master?”

Telanis looked to Kedri. “That depends upon Master Kedri. If he permits, I see no reason why you should not continue with them.”

Kedri turned to Aitrus. Experiments, Guildsman?”

Aitrus looked down, knowing suddenly that he ought not to have mentioned them. “It does not matter, Master.”

“No, Aitrus. I am interested. What experiments are these?”

Aitrus looked up shyly. “I am studying volcanic rocks, master. I wish to understand all I can about their nature and formation.”

Kedri seemed impressed. “A most worthy task, young Aitrus. Perhaps you would be kind enough to show me these experiments?”

Aitrus looked to Telanis, hoping his Master would somehow get him off the hook, but Telanis was staring at the multilayered chart Geran had given him, flipping from page to page and frowning.

Aitrus met Kedri’s eyes again, noting how keenly the other watched him. “As you wish, Guild Master.”

 

 

§

 

 

The cavern in which they rested was a perfect sphere, or would have been but for the platform on which the two excavators lay. The craft were long and sinuous, like huge, segmented worms, their tough exteriors kept buffed and polished when they were not burrowing in the rock.

Metal ladders went down beneath the gridwork platform to a second, smaller platform to which the junior members of the expedition had had their quarters temporarily removed to make way for their guests. It was to here, after a long, exhausting day of explanations, that Aitrus returned, long after most of his colleagues had retired.

There were thirty-six of them in all, none older than thirty—all of them graduates of the Academy; young guildsmen who had volunteered for this expedition. Some had given up and been replaced along the way, but more than two-thirds of the original crews remained.

Two years, four months
, Aitrus thought as he sat on the edge of his bedroll and began to pull off his boots. It was a long time to be away from home. He could have gone home, of course—Master Telanis would have given him leave if he had asked—but that would have seemed like cheating, somehow. No, an expedition was not really an expedition if one could go home whenever one wished.

Even as he kicked his other boot off, he felt the sudden telltale vibration in the platform, followed an instant or two later by a low, almost inaudible rumble. A Messenger was coming!

The expedition had cut its way through several miles of rock, up from one of the smaller, outermost caverns of D’ni. They could, of course, have gone up vertically, like a mine shaft, but so direct a route into D’ni was thought not merely inadvisable but dangerous. The preferred scheme—the scheme the Council had eventually agreed upon—was a far more indirect route, cut at a maximum of 3825
torans
—22.032 degrees—from the horizontal. One that could be walked.

One that could also be sealed off with gates and defended.

The rumbling grew, slowly but steadily. You could hear the sound of the turbine engines now.

Slowly but surely they had burrowed through the rock, surveying each one-hundred-span section carefully before they drilled, coating the survaces with a half-span thickness of special D’ni rock, more durable than marble. Last, but not least, they fitted heavy stone brackets into the ceiling of each section—brackets that carried air from the pumping stations back in D’ni.

Between each straight-line section was one of these spherical “nodes”—these resting places where they could carry on experiments while Master Geran and his assistants charted the next stage of their journey through the earth—each node fitted with an airtight gate that could be sealed in an instant.

The rumbling grew to a roar. For a moment the sound of it filled the node, then the engines cut out and there was the downward whine of the turbines as the Messenger slowed.

Aitrus turned and stood, watching as the metal snout of the machine emerged from the entry tunnel, passing through the thick collar of the node-gate, its pilot clearly visible through the transparent front debris shield.

It was a large, tracked vehicle, its three long segments making it seem clumsy in comparison to the sleek excavators, bu as ever Aitrus was glad to see it, for besides bringing them much-needed supplies—it being impossible to “link” supplies direct from D’ni into the tunnels—it also brought letters from home.

“Aitrus? What time is it?”

Aitrus turned. His friend Jenir had woken and was sitting up.

“Ninth bell,” he answered, bending down to retrieve his boots and pull them on again.

Others had also been woken by the Messenger’s arrival, and were sitting up or climbing from their beds, knowing there was unloading to be done.

He himself had been temporarily excused from such duties; even so, as the others drifted across to the ladders and began to ascend, he followed, curious to see if anything had come for him.

When the last Messenger had come, three days back, it had brought nothing but the Observers—those unexpected “guests” billeted upon them by the Council. Before that it had been almost three weeks since they had had contact with D’ni. Three solid weeks without news.

The Messenger had come to rest between the two excavators. Already its four-man crew were busy, running pipelines between the middle segment of their craft and the two much larger vehicles, ready to transfer its load of mechanical parts, equipment, drill bits, fuel, and cooling fluid to the excavators.

Aitrus yawned, then walked across. The young men of the Messengers Guild were of nature outward, friendly types, and seeing him, one of them hailed him.

“Ho! Aitrus! There’s a parcel for you!”

“A parcel?”

The Messenger gestured toward where one of his colleagues was carrying a large mesh basket into the forward cabin of the left-hand excavator.