The Myst Reader (46 page)

It was how he had taught her. Question and answer, all day and every day; forcing her to look, to
focus
on what was in front of her. Yes, and to make those fine distinctions between things that were the basis of all knowledge. But today she found herself stretched thin. She did not
want
to focus.

Closing the notebook, she slipped the pencil back into its slot, then crouched, stowing the notebook and her father’s compass into her knapsack.

A whole week had passed, and still he had not risen from his bed. For several nights he had been delirious, and she had knelt beside him in the wavering lamplight, a bowl of precious water at her side as she bathed his brow.

The fever had eventually broken, but it had left them both exhausted. For a whole day she had slept and had woken full of hope, but her father seemed little better. The fever had come and gone, but it had left him hollowed, his face gaunt, his breathing ragged.

She had tried to feed him and look after him, but in truth there seemed little she could do but wait. And when waiting became too much for her, she had come out here, to try to do something useful. But her heart was not in it.

The Lodge was not far away, less than a mile, in fact, which was why she had chosen that location, but the walk back was tiring under the blazing desert sun. As she climbed up onto the ridge overlooking the Lodge, she found herself suddenly fearful. She had not meant to be gone so long. What if he had needed her? What if he had called out to her and she had not been there?

She hurried down the slope, that unreasonable fear growing in her, becoming almost a certainty as she ran across the narrow bridge and ducked inside into the cool darkness.

“Father?”

The pallet bed was empty. She stood in the low doorway, breathing heavily, sweat beading her brow and neck and trickling down her back. She turned, looking out through the window at the desert.

What if he’d gone out looking for her?

She hurried through, anxious now, then stopped, hearing a noise, off to her right.

“Father?”

As she entered the workroom, he looked around and smiled at her. He was sitting at the long workbench that ran the full length of the room, one of his big, leather-bound notebooks open in front of him.

“This is good, Anna,” he said without preamble. “Amanjira will be pleased. The yields are high.”

She did not answer. Her relief at seeing him up and well robbed her of words. For a moment she had thought the very worst.

He had the faintest smile on his lips now, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. Anna wanted to go across to him and hug him, but she knew that was not his way. His love for her was distant, stern, like an eagle’s love for its chicks. It was the only way they had survived out here without her mother.

“Anna?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for the painting. How did you know?”

“Know what?”

“That those flowers were my favorites.”

She smiled, but found she could not say the words aloud.
Because my mother told me.

 

 

§

 

 

He continued to improve the next few days, doing a little more each day, until, a week after he’d got up from his bed, he came out from the workroom and handed Anna the finished report.

“There,” he said. “Take that to Amanjira. It’s not precisely what he asked for, but he’ll welcome it all the same.”

She stared at the document, then back at her father. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You’re not strong enough yet. The journey would exhaust you.”

“Which is why I’m not going. You know the way. You can manage the cart on your own, can’t you?”

Anna shook her head. She could, of course, but that wasn’t what she meant. “I can’t leave you. Not yet.”

He smiled. “Of course you can. I can cook. And I don’t need much water. Two pitchers should see me through until you return.”

“But…”

“No buts, Anna. If Amanjira doesn’t get that report, we don’t get paid. And who’ll pay the traders then? Besides, there are things we need in Tadjinar. I’ve made a list.”

Anna stared at him a moment, seeing how determined he was in this. “When do you want me to go?”

“This evening, immediately after sundown. You should reach the old volcano before dawn. You could take shelter in the cleft there. Sleep until the evening.”

It was what they always did, yet in reiterating it like this it almost seemed as if he were coming with her.

“Aren’t you worried?”

“Of course I am,” he answered. “But you’re a tough one, Anna. I always said you were. Just don’t let those merchants in Jaarnindu Market cheat you.”

She smiled at that. They were always trying to cheat them.

“I’ll fill the pitchers, then.”

He nodded, and without another word returned inside.

“To Tadjinar, then,” she said quietly, looking down at the report in her hands. “Let’s hope Lord Amanjira is as welcoming as my father thinks he’ll be.”

 

 

§

 

 

Amanjira was in good humor. He beamed a great smile at Anna, gestured toward the low chair that rested against the wall on one side of the great room, then he returned to his desk and sat, opening her father’s report.

As Amanjira leaned forward, his dark eyes poring over the various maps and diagrams, Anna took the chance to look about her. This was the first time she had been inside the great man’s house. Usually her father came here while she stayed at the lodging house in the old town.

The room was luxuriously decorated in white, cream, reds, and pinks. Bright sunlight filled the room, flooding in through a big, glass-paneled door that opened out onto a balcony. There was a thick rug on the floor and silk tapestries on the wall. And on the wall behind Amanjira was a portrait of the Emperor, given to him by the Emperor himself.

Everything there spoke of immense wealth.

Anna looked back at the man himself. Like herself, Amanjira was a stranger in this land, a trader from the east who had settled many years ago. Now he was one of the most important men in the empire.

Amanjira’s skin was as dark as night, so black it was almost blue, yet his features had a strangely Western cast; a well-fleshed softness that was very different from the hawkish look of these desert people.

As if a dove had flown into a nest of falcons.

But looks deceived sometimes. This dove had claws. Yes, and a wingspan that stretched from coast to coast of this dry and sandy land.

Amanjira made a tiny noise—a grunt of satisfaction—then looked across at her, nodding to himself.

“This is excellent. Your father has excelled himself, Anna.”

She waited, wondering what he would say next; what he would give her for this information.

“I shall instruct the steward to pay you in full, Anna. And tell your father that, if his findings prove correct, I shall reward him with a bonus.”

She lowered her head, surprised. So far as she knew, Amanjira had never offered them a bonus before.

“You are too kind, Lord Amanjira.”

Anna heard him rise and come across to her. “If you wish,” he said softly, “you may stay here tonight, Anna. Share a meal, perhaps, before you return home.”

She forced herself to look up. His dark eyes were looking at her with a surprising gentleness.

“Forgive me,” she said, “but I must get back. My father is not well.”

It was not entirely the truth. She wanted to stay this once and explore the alleys of the old town, but duty had to come first.

“I understand,” he said, moving back a little, as if sensitive to the sudden defensiveness in her attitude. “Is there anything I can do for him? Potions perhaps? Or special foods? Sheep’s brain is supposed to be especially nutritious.”

Anna laughed at the thought of her father eating sheep’s brain, then grew serious again, not wanting to hurt Amanjira’s feelings. “I thank you for your concern, Lord Amanjira, and for your kind offer of help, but we have all we need.”

Amanjira smiled, then gave a little bow. “So be it. But if you change your mind, do not hesitate to come to me, Anna. Lord Amanjira does not forget who his friends are.”

Again the warmth of his sentiments surprised her. She smiled. “I shall tell him what the Lord Amanjira said.”

“Good. Now hurry along, Anna. I am sure I have kept you far too long.”

 

 

§

 

 

The journey home was uneventful. Making good time, Anna arrived at the Lodge just after dawn. She had been away, in all, seven days.

Leaving the cart in the deep shadow by the ridge, she climbed up onto the bridge and tiptoed across, meaning to surprise her father, but the Lodge was empty.

Anna turned to the doorway and stood there, looking out over the silent desert.

Where would he be? Where?

She knew at once. He would be at the circle.

Leaving the cart where it was, she headed east across the narrow valley, climbing the bare rock until she came out into the early sunlight. It made sense that he would go there at this hour, before the heat grew unbearable. If she knew him, he would be out there now, digging about, turning over rocks.

Her father’s illness had driven the circle from her mind for a time, but coming back from Tadjinar, she had found herself intrigued by the problem.

It seemed almost supernatural. But neither she nor her father believed in things that could not be explained.
Everything
had a rational reason for its existence.

Coming up onto the ridge, Anna saw her father at once, in the sunlight on the far side of the circle, crouched down, examining something. The simple physical presence of him there reassured her. Until then she had not been sure, not
absolutely
sure, that he was all right.

For a time she stood there, watching him, noting how careful, how methodical he was, enjoying the sight of it enormously, as if it were a gift. Then, conscious of the sun slowly climbing the sky, she went down and joined him.

“Have you found anything?” she asked, standing beside him, careful not to cast her shadow over the place where he was looking.

He glanced up, the faintest smile on his lips. “Maybe. But not an answer.”

It was so typical of him that she laughed.

“So how was Amanjira?” he said, straightening up and turning to face her. “Did he pay us?”

She nodded, then took the heavy leather pouch from inside her cloak and handed it to him. “He was pleased. He said there might be a bonus.”

His smile was knowing. “I’m not surprised. I found silver for him.”

“Silver!”
He hadn’t told her. And she, expecting nothing more than the usual detailed survey, had not even glanced at the report she had handed over to Amanjira. “Why didn’t you say?”

“It isn’t our business. Our business is to survey the rocks, not exploit them.”

She nodded at the pouch, “We make our living from the rock.”

“An honest day’s pay for an honest day’s work,” he answered, and she knew he meant it. Her father did not believe in taking any more than he needed. “Enough to live” was what he always said, begrudging no one the benefit from what he did.

“So how are you?” she asked, noting how the color had returned to his face.

“Well,” he answered, his eyes never leaving hers. “I’ve come out here every morning since you left.”

She nodded, saying nothing.

“Come,” he said suddenly, as if he had just remembered. “I have something I want to show you.”

They went through the gap between two of the converging ridges, then climbed up over a shoulder of rock onto a kind of plateau, a smooth gray slab that tilted downward into the sand, like a fallen wall that has been half buried in a sandstorm.

 

Across from them another, larger ridge rose up out of the sand, its eroded contours picked out clearly by the sun. The whiteness of the rock and the blackness of its shadowed irregularities gave it the look of carved ivory.

“There,” he said, pointing to one of the larger patches of darkness near the foot of the ridge.

“A cave?” she asked, intrigued.

“A tunnel.”

“Where does it lead?”

“Come and see.”

They went down, crossing the hot sand, then ducked inside the shadowed entrance to the tunnel. They stopped a moment, letting their eyes grow accustomed to the darkness after the brilliant sunlight outside, then turned, facing the tunnel. Anna waited as her father lit the lamp, then held it up.

“Oh!”

The tunnel ran smoothly into the rock for fifteen, twenty paces, but that was it. Beyond that it was blocked by rock fall.

Undaunted, her father walked toward it, the lamplight wavering before him. She followed, examining the walls as she went.

“It looks lavatic,” she said.

“It is,” he answered, stopping before the great fall of rock. “And I’d say it runs on deep into the earth. Or would, if this rock wasn’t in the way.”

Anna crouched and examined a small chunk of the rock. One side of it was smooth and glassy—the same material as the walls. “How recent was this fall?” she asked.

“I can only guess.”

She looked up at him. “I don’t follow you.”

“When I found no answers here, I began to look a bit wider afield. And guess what I found?”

She shrugged.

“Signs of a quake, or at least of massive earth settlement, just a few miles north of here. Recent, I’d say, from the way the rock was disturbed. And that got me thinking. There was a major quake in this region thirty years back. Even Tadjinar was affected, though mildly. It might explain our circle.”

“You think so?”