The Myst Reader (62 page)

And so, too, this world of theirs, their Age, which they had called Gemedet, after the game. It, too, existed, or had existed, or would. But where it was or when they did not know.

Not that it mattered most of the time, but on occasion she did wonder just where they were in the night sky, and when—whether at the beginning of the universe or somewhere near the end of that vast process.

The very thought of it humbled her, made her understand why her father had believed in a Maker who had fashioned it all. Having “written,” having seen the great skill and subtlety involved merely in creating a
link
to these worlds, she now found herself in awe of the infinite care that had gone into the making of the originals to which their templates linked.

Personally, she could not believe that blind process had made it all. It was, for her, quite inconceivable, bearing in mind the complexity and variety of life. Yet in this, if nothing else, Aitrus differed from her. His was, or so he claimed, a more rational approach, more
scientific
—as if understanding the product of such processes were a key to understanding the why of them existing in the first place.

Aitrus had walked down the tree-strewn slope, making his way between the boulders, until he stood beside one of the larger vents. Resting his chest against the sloping wall of the vent, he leaned out, peering into the darkness. For a moment he was perfectly still, then he turned his head, looking back at her through his D’ni glasses.

“Shall we go in?”

Anna smiled. “All right, but we’ll need to bring a rope from the camp.”

Aitrus grinned. “And lamps, and…”

“…your notebook.”

A look of perfect understanding passed between them. It was time to explore the volcano.

 

 

§

 

 

They got back to the encampment three days later than they had planned, to find that a message had been delivered from D’ni. It lay upon the map table in its dark blue waterproof wrapping.

While Anna began to stow away their equipment, Aitrus broke the seal of the package and took out the letter. He knew it was not urgent—they would have sent a Messenger into the Age to find him if it was—but it was unusual. Unfolding the letter, he squinted at it through the lenses of his glasses. It was from his old friend Kedri, and concerned a query Aitrus had put to him the last time they had met for supper.

He read it through quickly, then, smiling, he slipped the paper into his tunic pocket.

“Well?” Anna asked, coming alongside him. “Anything important?”

“No, but I need to go back.”

“Should we pack?”

He shook his head. “No. I only need to be away an hour or two. I’ll go later tonight. You can stay here. I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

Anna smiled. “You should have a bath when you get back to D’ni.”

“A bath?” He looked mock-offended. “Are you saying I smell, Ti’ana?”

“You positively reek of sulphur!” she said, grinning now. “Like
Old Beelzebub himself!”

He smiled at that. In the caves beneath the caldera, she had taught him much about the mythology and gods of the surface, including the demons whom, according to many religions, lived in the regions beneath the earth.

“If only they knew the reality of it,” she had said. “They’d be amazed.”

It was then that he had given her her new name—
Ti’ana
, which in D’ni meant “story-teller,” as well as punning on her surface name. “Do you need me to cook you something before you go?”

“I’d rather you helped me sort those samples.”

“All right,” she said, her smile broadening. “I’ll do the tests, you can write up the notes.”

 

 

§

 

 

Aitrus looked about him at the tent. All was neat and orderly. His notebook was open on the small table by his bed, the ink of the latest entry not yet dry. It was time to link back.

Anna was in her cabin. He would say goodnight to her, then go.

Aitrus went outside and stepped across to the cabin, knocking softly on the door. Usually she would call out to him, but this time there was nothing. Pushing the door open a little, he saw that she was not at her desk.

“Ti’ana?” he called softly. “Are you there?”

As if in answer he heard her soft snoring from behind the thin, wooden partition. Slipping inside, he tiptoed across and, drawing back the curtain, peered in.

Anna lay on her side on the pallet, facing him, her eyes closed, her features peaceful in sleep. The long journey back from the valley had clearly exhausted her. He crouched, watching her, drinking in the sight of her. She was so different from the women he had known all his life—those strong yet frail D’ni women with their pale skin and long faces.

It had been more than two months ago, when they had made their first, and as yet only, journey to the mountains north of the camp. On the way Anna had collected samples of various native flowers for later study. Yet, coming upon the wonder of a snow-covered slope—the first she had ever seen or touched or walked upon—she had taken the blooms from her pocket and scattered their petals over the snow. He had asked her what she was doing, and she had shrugged.

“I had to,” she had said, staring at him. Then, pointing to the scattered petals, she had bid him look.

Aitrus closed his eyes, seeing them vividly, their bright shapes and colors starkly contrasted against the purity of the whiteness—like life and death.

It was then that he had decided, and every moment since had been but a confirmation of that decision—an affirmation of the feeling he had had at that moment, when, looking up from the petals, he had seen her face shining down at him like the sun itself.

Aitrus opened his eyes and saw that same face occluded now in sleep, like the sun behind clouds, yet beautiful still. The most beautiful he had ever seen. At first he had not thought so, but time had trained his eyes to see her differently. He
knew
her now.

Aitrus stretched out his hand, tracing the contours of that sleeping face in the air above it, a feeling of such tenderness pervading him that he found his hand trembling. He drew it back, surprised by the strength of what he felt at that moment. Overwhelming, it was, like the rush of water over a fall.

He nodded to himself, then stood. It was time to go back to D’ni. Time to face his father, Kahlis.

 

 

§

 

 

“I cannot say that I have not half-expected this,” Kahlis was saying, “but I had hoped that you would, perhaps, have seen sense in time.”

“I am sorry that you feel so, Father.”

“Even if it is as you say, Aitrus, have you thought this through properly? Have you thought out the full implications of such a union? She is an outsider. A surface-dweller. And you, Aitrus, are D’ni—a Guild Master and a member of the Council. Such a marriage is unheard of.”

“Maybe so. Yet there is no legal impediment to it.” Aitrus took the letter from his tunic pocket and placed it on the desk before his father. “I asked Master Kedri to look into the matter, and that is his expert opinion.”

Kahlis took the sheet of paper and unfolded it. For a moment he was silent, reading it, then he looked up, his eyes narrowed.

“And the age difference, Aitrus? Have you considered that? Right now you are the elder, but it will not always be so. Your life span is thrice hers. When you are still in your prime she will be an old woman. Have you thought of that?”

“I have,” he answered. “Yet not to have her—to have never had her by my side—that would be death indeed.”

“And what if I said I was against the marriage?”

Aitrus merely stared at him.

Kahlis stood, then came around his desk.

“You will not accept my advice. But I shall give you my blessing. That, I hope, you
will
accept.”

“Gladly!” Aitrus said, then, reaching out, he took his father’s hands in the D’ni way. “You will be proud of her, Father, I promise you!”

 

 

§

 

 

Aitrus linked back into the cave above the encampment. Stepping out, he saw that nothing had changed. In the moonlight the camp looked peaceful, the tents to the left, the cabin to the right. Beyond and to the right the waterfall was like a sheet of silver, its constant noise lulling him.

Walking down between the trees he found that he was whistling softly, an old D’ni song his mother had once sung to him. He stopped, his eyes going to the cabin. There she slept. Ti’ana. His love.

“It cannot be wrong,” he said quietly.

Aitrus felt a light touch on his shoulder and started. Turning, he found Anna standing there behind him. She was smiling, as if pleased by her little trick.

“What cannot be wrong?”

He swallowed. Now that the moment had come, he was afraid of it. Yet that fear was natural, it was there to be overcome.

“You and I,” he answered, taking her hands.

Her eyes went down to where their hands met, then looked up to meet his own again. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I wish to marry you.”

Her eyes slowly widened. She stared at him silently, as if in wonder.

“Well?” he asked, when the waiting grew too much. “
Will
you marry me, Ti’ana?”

“I will,” she said, her voice so soft, so quiet, that he felt at first he had imagined it.

“You will?”

Anna nodded, the faintest trace of a smile coming to her lips.

“You
will!
” He whooped, then drew her close and, for the first time, embraced her. Her face was suddenly close to his, less than a hand’s width away. The sight of it sobered him.

“I will be a good husband to you, Ti’ana, I promise. But you must promise me something.”

“Promise what?”

“That you will be my partner in all things. My helpmate and companion, by my side always, in whatever I do.”

Slowly the smile returned to her face. Then, leaning toward him, she gently kissed him. “I promise.”

 

 

§

 

 

Veovis stormed into the room, slamming the door behind him. He grabbed an inkwell from the desk beside him and hurled it across the room, shattering it into tiny fragments.

“Never!” he said, glaring across the empty room. “Not while there’s breath left in my body!”

His father, Rakeri, had broken the news to him an hour back. Aitrus was to be betrothed. At first, if anything, he had been indifferent to the news. He had not even heard that Aitrus was seeing anyone. Then, abruptly, he had understood. The girl! The surface-dweller!

Veovis stomped across the room and threw himself down into his chair, gnawing on a thumbnail.

“Never!” he said again, the word hissing from him with a real venom.

His father had explained how the Five had been approached, the documents of precedent laid before them. Again that was Kedri’s fault, the traitor! Aitrus need only go before the full Council now to receive their blessing, and that was a formality.

Or had been, in the past.

Veovis took a long, calming breath, then turned his head, staring at the shattered fragments of glass as if he did not recognize the cause, then shuddered.

Never.

 

 

§

 

 

Aitrus stood before the Five, at the center of the great chamber. All were present. Lord R’hira had read out the formal request; now, all that remained was for the Council to ratify the document.

R’hira stared at Aitrus a moment, then looked beyond him, his eyes raking the levels of the chamber.

“All those in favor?”

There was a chorus of “Ayes,” some reluctant, others enthusiastic. For six thousand years the question had been asked and answered thus.

Lord R’hira smiled.

“And those against?” he asked, the question a formality.

“Nay.”

R’hira had already turned the paper facedown. He had been about to congratulate young Aitrus. But the single voice brought him up sharp. He stared at Veovis, where he sat not two spans behind where Aitrus was standing.

“I beg pardon, Guild Master Veovis?”

Veovis stood. “I say ‘Nay.’ ”

R’hira’s wizened face blinked. All five Lords were leaning forward now, staring at Veovis. This was unheard of.

“Could I possibly have your reasons, Master Veovis?”

Veovis’s face was a mask, expressionless. “I need give no reason. I am simply against.” And he sat, as if that was that.

As indeed it was. The verdict of Council had to be unanimous in this matter. R’hira looked to Aitrus. The young man had his head down, his own expression unreadable; yet there was a tension to his figure that had not been there before.

“Master Aitrus…” he began, embarrassed. “It would seem…”

Aitrus looked up, his pale eyes hard like slate. “I understand, Lord R’hira. The Council has turned down my request.”

R’hira, marking the immense dignity with which Aitrus bore this disappointment, gave a reluctant nod. “So it is.”

“Then I will trouble you no more, my Lords.”

Aitrus bowed to each of the Five in turn, then, turning on his heel, walked from the chamber, his head held high, not even glancing at Veovis as he passed.

 

 

§

 

 

“Aitrus! Come now, open the door!”

Tasera stood before the door to her son’s room, her husband just behind her in the shadows of the corridor.

When there was no answer, Tasera turned and looked to her husband. “Why did you not say something in Council, Kahlis?”

“I did,” Kahlis said quietly, “but it made no difference.”