The Myst Reader (66 page)

“So you say,” Veovis said quietly.

“So I say,” A’Gaeris said, fiercely now, challenging Veovis to gainsay him a second time.

There was a moment’s silence, then Veovis shrugged. “Give me a day or two to think on this, and then, perhaps, we shall meet again.”

“As you wish.”

Veovis nodded, then smiled. “You say she threw the Healer out?”

“She threatened him, I’m told.”

“Well…” Veovis nodded to himself thoughtfully, then walked over to the door. “It was interesting meeting you, Philosopher.”

“And you, Lord Veovis.”

 

 

§

 

 

Darkness was rising from the lake as A’Gaeris climbed the back stairs of the lodging house where, for the past fifty years, he had stayed. Corlam, his mute assistant watched him from the darkened window overhead, turning hurriedly to cross the room and light the lamp.

The Philosopher seemed thoughtful tonight. As he came into the room he barely acknowledged Corlam, but went straight to his desk and sat.

The room was a shrine to the Philosopher’s endeavors. Apart from the door and window, there was not a square inch of the walls that was not covered in books, piled two deep on broad stone shelves. Some were reference books, others books of Council minutes and resolutions. Some—almost all of those on the shelves at the far end of the rectangular room—A’Gaeris’s own journals.

For fifty years he had labored here, since the day he had been cast out of the guild, making his plans, slowly preparing for the day when he could emerge again from obscurity and become a name again. Someone
everybody
knew, and not just the rabble of the lower city.

All this Corlam knew intimately, for, having “adopted” him as a child—an orphan of the lower alleys—A’Gaeris trusted Corlam as he trusted no one else, using him as a sounding board, rehearsing his ideas and thoughts, refining his theories until Corlam knew them almost as well as he.

Corlam went across and stood behind his master, watching as A’Gaeris took his latest journal from the left-hand drawer and, laying it on the desk, opened it and began to write.

Today had been important. Corlam knew that. His master had been in a state of some excitement for days before this meeting, though why exactly Corlam could not ascertain. Lord Veovis was, he knew, an important man, but why his master should desire to meet him only A’Gaeris himself knew, for he had said nothing on this score to Corlam.

“Real books,” A’Gaeris said, after a while, glancing up at Corlam. “If only I could get my hands on some
real
Books.”

Corlam stared back at him. There were many Books on the shelves—most of them “liberated” from the guild libraries; for, after all, with so many books, the guildsmen rarely ever noticed one was missing—but he knew what his master meant. He was talking about kortee’nea. Blank D’ni Books. The kind one used to link to the Ages.

“I know,” A’Gaeris said, smiling at him, then turning back to his journal. “You cannot help me here, Corlam. But maybe our lordship can. Besides, I have a man on the inside now. A friend who wants to help me. If I can persuade
him
to aid me, who knows?”

Corlam looked closer. His master was practicing again. Writing words in someone else’s hand. Corlam squinted at the page, then tapped A’Gaeris’s shoulder, nodding vigorously. It was Lord Veovis’s writing, as clear as day. He had seen examples only the other day, from the records of the Council.

Corlam watched, openmouthed. Though he had watched A’Gaeris do this many times now over the years, he still found it magical the way his master could so easily copy another’s hand. He had only to study it an hour and he had it.

Pushing the journal away from him, A’Gaeris yawned and stretched, then turned to face Corlam.

“You know, I had an idea today, Corlam. While I was waiting for his Lordship to turn up.”

Corlam smiled, a look of attention coming to his features.

“It’s like this,” he went on. “I was asking myself how I could get into a place where I should not be—into a Guild strong room, say, or a well-guarded cell—and then get out again without being caught. The easiest way, of course, would be to write a specific linking book to allow me to link into that place. But to get out again I would need a second linking book, and I would have to leave it there. You follow me?”

Corlam nodded.

“So. Getting in would be easy. Getting out without being followed and tracked down by the Maintainers would be extremely hard. Unless…”

A’Gaeris smiled a great smile of self-satisfaction. “Unless, of course, one linked on to another Age, and then another after that. In fact, one might take three separate Linking Books into the cell with one, just to confuse things. But it would be no good having the second and third Linking Books at the place where one linked
to
each time. That would be no good at all. No. One would need to hide the Book a good hour’s walk from where one linked to, so that anyone following you would have to search a wide area in order to find that second Book. Indeed, one could have three or four such Books—only one of which you would use. And when one linked the second time, again you would have an hour’s walk to get to the next Linking Book. That way no one could follow you. At least, not quickly, and maybe not at all. A little preparation, two hours’ walking, and one would be safe.”

For a moment A’Gaeris’s eyes glowed, then he looked down. “Of course, one would need a masterful writer to create Ages at will, and, say, a mole inside with access to places such as…cells, for example.”

 

 

§

 

 

Anna was in the laboratory, working on the latest soil samples from Gemedet, when Aitrus came in. Gehn was in the cot on a bench nearby. As Aitrus came across, he stopped to lean over and smile at his softly cooing son before greeting Anna.

Anna looked up from the lens of the microscope and smiled. “I won’t be long.”

He nodded. “I have had a letter.”

“Who is it from?”

“That is just it. It is not signed and the handwriting is unfamiliar.”

He handed it to her, then waited as she read it.

“Destroy it,” she said, handing it back to him. “And do not get involved, whatever it is.”

“But what does it mean?”

“Does it matter?”

Aitrus shrugged. “It is the tone of it that bothers me. ‘Something to your benefit’. And all of the secrecy. What do you think is going on?”

Anna sighed. “If it really worries you, Aitrus, hand it over to the Maintainers. Let them send a man along. But don’t you get involved.”

“All right,” he smiled. “I’ll destroy it.” And having said it, he reached across and, turning on the gas tap, ignited it, and held the corner of the letter in the fine blue flame. When it was well aflame, he dropped it into the sink. “There,” he said.

Behind him, Gehn began to whimper. Aitrus went over, lifted the baby from the cot, and cuddled him in the crook of his arm.

“He must be hungry,” Anna said. “I’ll finish here.”

“No, you work on,” he said. “I’ll feed him.”

She smiled. “Don’t overfeed him. That was the trouble last time. The poor little mite could barely copy!”

“I know,” he said, then, as if it were an afterthought, he added, “I have to go back to my rooms later on. There’s a report I have to finish. I’ll only be an hour or two. I can join you for a late supper.”

Anna grinned. “That would be nice. And maybe we could get away for a few days soon. To Gemedet.”

Aitrus nodded. “I shall ask Master Erafir to stand in for me. It is time he took on more responsibility.”

“Then go and see to Gehn. But remember, Aitrus, nothing too heavy for his stomach.”

 

 

§

 

 

Aitrus had meant to go straight to his rooms; his feet had lead him partway there, but then curiosity had overcome him and he found himself descending the steps, then walking beneath the gate into J’Taeri District.

I do not have to get involved
, he told himself. Whatever it was, he did not have to act upon it. He would observe whatever had to be observed, then leave.

The street itself was an ordinary street, the house a staid, respectable dwelling of the kind merchants often bought. The windows were dark, the door locked. Aitrus turned. The house overlooked the harbor and Kerath’s arch, the top of which was almost on a level with where he stood. Across the street, between the facing buildings, was a low wall, from which one could look out over the lake. He went across and stood there, his hands resting lightly on the stone.

There was a faint mist in the cavern tonight. In the narrow streets lamps wavered as wagons moved between the houses. There was a shout from somewhere far below, and then laughter. Otherwise the night was peaceful. Aitrus turned, conscious of a faint gurgling sound. Close by a narrow culvert cut across the street, clear water running in a stream from the very top of the huge, scallop-shaped city. He bent down and dipped his hand. It was cool.

He was about to turn away and go when he heard footsteps coming along the far end of the street. Looking about him, he spied a nearby doorway and stepped into its shadows.

The footsteps came on, the slow click of leather boots on stone, then stopped. Aitrus hesitated. He was about to risk a glimpse, when a second set of footsteps could be heard, this time from his left, brisker than the first. They paused, then came on again, slower now. There was a low murmur of greeting.

Aitrus peeked out. Two men stood in the lamplight before the door of the house. One was cloaked and hooded, the other, a heavier-set man, wore nothing on his balding head. He looked familiar, but where Aitrus had seen him he could not say. He ducked back into shadow, listening.

“What do you want?” one of them asked, the voice, again, familiar.

“I have something to show you,” the second answered. “Something that will interest you.”

It was a deep voice, cultured yet with a strangely common edge to it. Whereas the first…

“You want
me
to go in there with you?” the first man asked, and as he did, Aitrus finally recognized the voice.

Veovis!

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Alone, at night, in a strange house?” Veovis laughed ironically. “Would
you
trust
me?
”

“Implicitly.”

There was a silence, then a huff of resignation.

“All right,” Veovis said finally. “I shall trust you. But be warned. I am armed, A’Gaeris.”

That name came as a shock to Aitrus. All young guildsmen knew it. No other name attracted quite such infamy. But what was he doing here in J’Taeri, a respectable district? And what was Veovis doing meeting him?

Aitrus peeked out again, in time to see the big, heavyset man place a key in the lock and turn it, then put out his hand, inviting Veovis to step inside.

“You first,” Veovis said, standing back a little, his hand on the hilt of his dagger. “And put a light on. Then I shall come inside.”

A’Gaeris smiled and shrugged, then stepped inside the house. A moment later a light went on in the hall.

Letting his hand fall from the hilt of his dagger, Veovis glanced to either side, then stepped into the house.

Was that it? Was that what the anonymous writer had meant him to see? And if so, why?

Aitrus was about to leave, to make his way back up to the Guild Hall, when a light went on in the ground-floor room to the left of the front door. Easing back against the wall, Aitrus watched as A’Gaeris entered the room, followed a moment later by Veovis.

Veovis, standing in the doorway, seemed ill at ease. He glanced about him, then, satisfied that it was not a trap, closed the door and walked across to where A’Gaeris was rummaging among the papers on a desk. There were a number of slender books among the papers, and A’Gaeris lifted one and handed it to Veovis.

Veovis hesitated, then opened it. He studied it a moment then looked up, his eyes wide.

A’Gaeris smiled, then gestured toward the chair facing him.

 

 

§

 

 

Aitrus went straight to his rooms in the Guild Hall. He had work to do, but he found he could not work. What he had seen troubled him greatly. Anna was right, of course; he ought to have gone straight to Master Jadaris and put the matter in the hands of the Maintainers, but he had not, and this was the result. Oh, he could go there now, but what proof would he have? It was his word against Veovis’s.

But what was going on? Why were such strange and unlikely companions meeting in a merchant’s house?

Aitrus sat still a long while, trying to fathom it, but he could make no sense of it at all.

Anna. Anna would know. Only he could not ask Anna, because he had promised her he would not get involved. He had burned the note, as if it had held no power over him. But it had. And now he had this dilemma.

Veovis. Maybe he ought to go and see Veovis and confront him openly with what he had seen.

Aitrus thought a while, then nodded. It seemed the right thing to do. No skulking about in shadows. That was not his way. He would take a boat to K’veer in the morning and have it out with Veovis, face-to-face. For there had to be an explanation.

Aitrus put away his files, then left the room, locking it behind him.
Tomorrow
, he told himself, making his way down the long, silent corridor toward the great gate.
It will all come clear tomorrow.

 

 

§

 

 

Aitrus rose early the next morning. At supper the previous evening he had said nothing to Anna, nor had he hinted at what he planned. Yet even as he ate a hasty breakfast, a servant brought him in a second letter, the handwriting on the envelope the same as that on the anonymous note the day before.