The Myst Reader (40 page)

The gap seemed deep, but he could jump it at a stride. The trouble would be getting back, as the floor of the cave was much lower than where he stood. It would not be so easy leaping up onto this ledge.

Taking a length of rope from his sack, Aitrus hammered a metal pin into the rock beside him and tied one end of the rope fast about it. He uncoiled the rope, letting two or three spans of it hang down, then jumped down.

For a moment he looked about him, his eyes searching for a chunk of loose stone to lay upon the end of the rope to keep it in place, but there was nothing. The rock was strangely fused here and glassy. Aitrus coiled the end of the rope and rested it on the rock, trusting that it would not slip into the gap. Then, straightening up, he turned to face the cavern.

For a moment Aitrus held himself perfectly still, the beam of light from his lamp focused on the pillar at the far end of the cavern, then he crouched and, again taking his notebook from his pocket, rested it on his knee, and began to sketch what he saw.

Finished, he began to walk across. The floor was strangely smooth and for a moment Aitrus wondered if he were in a volcanic chamber of some kind. Then, with a laugh, he stopped and crouched.

“Agates!” he said softly, his voice a whisper in that silent space. “Agates in the rock!”

Taking a hammer and chisel from his tool belt, Aitrus chipped at the smooth surface of the rock just to his left, then, slipping the tools back into their leather holsters, he reached down and gently plucked his find from the rock.

The agate was a tiny piece of chalcedony no bigger than a pigion’s egg. He held it up and studied it, then, reaching behind him, popped it into the sack on his back. There were others here, and he quickly chipped them from the rock. Some were turquoise, others a deep summer blue. One, however, was almost purple in color and he guessed that it was possibly an amethyst.

Aitrus smiled broadly, then stood once more. Such agates were hypabyssal—small intrusive bodies from deep in the earth’s crust that had been thrust up with the lava flow to cool at these shallow depths. In a sense they were no more than bubbles in the lava flow; bubbles that had been filled with heated groundwater. Long eons had passed and this was the form they had taken. Polished they would look magnificent.

Aitrus began to walk toward the distant pillar of rock, but he had taken no more than two paces when the floor beneath him began to tremble. At first he thought they had perhaps begun drilling again, for the source of the vibrations seemed quite distant, but then he recalled what Master Telanis had said.

We’ll do no work today…

As if to emphasize the point, the ground shuddered. There was a deep rumbling in the rock. He could hear rock falling in the passage behind him.

Aitrus walked across. If the passage collapsed, he would be trapped here, and it might be days before anyone knew where he was. He had told no one that he was off exploring.

The rope, at least, was still where he had left it. He swung across and pulled himself up onto the ledge.

There was the faintest trembling in the rock. A trickle of dust fell from a crack above him. He looked up. If there was to be a proper quake, that rock would come down.

Calming himself, Aitrus squeezed through the gap and began to walk back along the narrow rock passage. He was halfway along when the rock shook violently. There was a crashing up ahead of him, dust was in his mouth suddenly, but the passage remained unblocked.

He kept walking, picking up his pace.

The luminous arrows he had left to mark his way shone out, showing him the direction back to the node. Coming to one of the smaller caverns near the node, he found his way blocked for the first time. A fall of rock filled the end of the cavern, but he remembered that there was another way around, through a narrow borehole. Aitrus went back down the tunnel he’d been following until he found it, then crawled through on his hands and knees, his head down, the sack pushed before him. There was a slight drop on the other side. Aitrus wormed his way around and dangled his feet over the edge. He was about to drop, when he turned and looked. The slight drop had become a fall of three spans—almost forty feet. Hanging on tightly, he turned his head, trying to see if there was another way out. There wasn’t. He would have to climb down the face, using metal pins for footholds.

It took him a long time, but eventually he was down. Now he only had to get back up again. He could see where the tunnel began again, but it was quite a climb, the last two spans of it vertical. There was nothing he could do; he would have to dig handholds in the rock face with a hammer.

The ascent was slow. Twice the ground shook and almost threw him down into the pit out of which he was climbing, but he clung on until things were quiet again. Eventually he clambered up into the tunnel.

If he was right, he was at most fifty spans from the gate.

Half running, he hurried down the tunnel. Here was the tiny cavern they had called The Pantry, here the one they’d called The Steps. With a feeling of great relief, he ducked under the great slab of stone that marked the beginning of the cave system and out into the D’ni borehole.

Glancing along the tunnel, Aitrus could see at once that it had been badly damaged. The sides had been smooth and perfectly symmetrical. Now there were dark cracks all along it, and huge chunks of rock had fallen from the ceiling and now rested on the tunnel’s floor.

Ignoring the feeling in the pit of his stomach Aitrus walked slowly on. He could see that the gate was closed. It would have closed as soon as the first tremor registered in its sensors. All the gates along the line, in every node, would be closed. If he could not open it he would be trapped, as helpless as if he’d stayed in the cavern where he’d found the agates.

There was a rarely used wheel in the center of the gate, an emergency pressure-release.

Bracing himself against the huge metal door, Aitrus heaved the wheel around, praying that another tremor wouldn’t come.

At first nothing, then, the sound making him gasp with relief, there was a hiss of air and the door opened, its two halves sliding back into the collar of rock.

Atrus jumped through, knowing that at any moment another quake might come and force the doors to slam shut again.

After the tunnel, the node was brightness itself. Aitrus blinked painfully, then turned to look back into the borehole. As he did, the whole of the ceiling at the end came crashing down. Dust billowed toward him. At the sudden noise, the sensors in the gate were activated and the doors slammed shut, blocking out both noise and dust.

Aitrus whistled to himself, then turned, looking about him. The walls of the great sphere in which he stood were untouched—it would take a major quake to affect the support walls—but both node-gates were shut.

He would have to wait until the tremors subsided.

Aitrus sat and took his notebook from his pocket, beginning to write down all that had happened.

It was important to make observations and write down everything, just in case there was something important among it all.

Small tremors were quite common; they happened every month or so, but these were strong. Much stronger, in fact, than anything he had ever encountered.

He remembered the agates and got them out. For a while he studied them, lost in admiration. Then, with a cold and sudden clarity, he realized they were clues.

This whole region was volcanic. Its history was volcanic. These agates were evidence of countless millennia of volcanic activity. And it was still going on. They had been boring their tunnels directly through the heart of a great volcanic fault.

Stowing the agates back in the sack, Aitrus wrote his observations down, then closed the notebook and looked up.

It was at least an hour since the last tremor.

As if acknowledging the fact, the node-gates hissed and then slid open.

Aitrus stood, then picked up his sack and slung it over his shoulder. It was time to get back.

 

 

§

 

 

As Atrus stepped out from beneath the node-gate, he frowned. The base camp was strangely silent.

The two excavators remained where he had last seen them, but there was no sign of the frenetic activity he had expected after the quakes. It was as if the site had been abandoned.

He walked across, a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, then stopped, hearing noises from the tunnel; the faintest murmur of voices, like a ritual chant.

Coming to the tunnel’s entrance, he saw them: the whole company of both ships lined up in ranks, together with the four Observers, who stood off in a tiny group to one side. The assembly stood at the far end, where the accident had happened, their heads bowed.

At once Aitrus knew. This was a ceremony to mark Efanis’s passage. He could hear the words drift back to him, in Master Telanis’s clear and solemn tones.

“In rock he lived, in rock he rests.”

And as the words faded, so Master Telanis lay the dead guildsman’s hand upon the open linking book, moving back as the body shimmered in the air and vanished. It was now in the great burial Age of Te’Negamiris.

Aitrus bowed his head, standing where he was in the tunnel’s mouth, mouthing the words of the response, along with the rest of the company.

“May Yavo, the Maker receive his soul.”

Everyone was silent again, marking Efanis’s passage with respect, then individual heads began to come up. Master Telanis looked across; seeing Aitrus, he came across and, placing a hand on Aitrus’s arm, spoke to him softly.

“I’m sorry, Aitrus. It happened very quickly. An adverse reaction to the medication. He was very weak.”

Aitres nodded, but the fact had not really sunk in. For a time, in the tunnels, he had totally forgotten about his friend.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Aitrus answered. “I went back to the cave system. There’s a lot of damage there. The quakes…”

Telanis nodded. “Master Geran seems to think it is only a settling of the surrounding rock, but we need to make more soundings before we proceed. There may be some delays.”

“Guild Master Kedri will not be pleased.”

“No, nor his fellows. But it cannot be helped. We must be certain it is nothing critical.” Master Telanis paused, then, “It might mean that Master Kedri will require your services for slightly longer than anticipated, Aitrus. Would that worry you?”

Master Telanis had said nothing about Aitrus not letting anyone know where he had gone. That, Aitrus knew, was his way. But Aitrus felt guilty about the breach, and it was, perhaps, that guilt that made him bow his head and answer.

“No, Guild Master.”

 

 

§

 

 

As Master Kedri climbed up into the messenger, he turned, looked back at Aitrus, and smiled.

“Thank you, Aitrus. I shall not forget your kindness.”

Aitrus returned the smile.

“And I shall not forget to deliver your letter,” Kedri added, patting the pocket of his tunic, where the letter lay.

“Thank you, Guild Master.”

Kedri ducked inside. A moment later the door hissed shut and the turbines of the craft came to life.

Aitrus stepped back, rejoining the others who had gathered to see off the Observers.

“You did well, Aitrus,” Master Telanis said quietly, coming alongside as the Messenger turned and slowly edged into the tunnel, heading back to D’ni.

“Yet I fear it was not enough,” Aitrus answered.

Telanis nodded, a small movement in his face indicating that he, too, expected little good to come of the Observers’ report.

Unexpectedly, Master Kedri and his fellows had chosen not to wait for tunneling to recommence, deciding, instead, to return at once. All there read it as a clear sign that the four men had made up their minds about the expedition.

Efanis’s death, the quakes—these factors had clearly influenced that choice—had, perhaps, pushed them to a decision.

Even so, the waiting would be hard.

“What shall we do, Guild Master?” Aitrus asked, seeing how despondent Telanis looked.

Telanis glanced at him, then shrugged. “I suppose we shall keep on burrowing through the rock, until they tell us otherwise.”

 

 

§

 

 

Progress was slow. Master Geran took many soundings over the following five days, making a great chart of all the surrounding rock, then checking his findings by making test borings deep into the strata.

It was ten full days before Master Telanis gave the order to finish off the tunnel and excavate the new node. Knowing how close the Council’s meeting now was, everyone in the expedition feared the worst.

Any day now they might be summoned home, the tunnels filled, all their efforts brought to nothing, but still they worked on, a stubborn pride in what they did making them work harder and longer.

The advance team finished excavating and coating the sphere in a single day, while the second team laid the air brackets. That evening they dismantled the platforms and moved the base camp on.

Efanis’s death had been a shock, but none there had known quite how it would affect them. Now they knew. As Aitrus’s team sat there that evening in the refectory, there was a strange yet intimate silence. No one had to speak, yet all there knew what the others were feeling and thinking. Finally, the old cook, Jerahl, said it for them.

“It seems unfair that we should come to understand just how important this expedition is, only for it to be taken from us.”

There was a strong murmur of agreement. Since Efanis’s death, what had been for most an adventure had taken on the aspect of a crusade. They wanted now to finish this tunnel, to complete the task they had been given by the Council. Whether there was anyone up there on the surface or not did not matter now; it was the forging of the tunnel through the earth that was the important thing.