The Myst Reader (97 page)

Thus far Hadre had been the only person they had seen in all of Terahnee, but now two other men—smaller and more stockily built, discernibly different from Hadre, and not merely in their physical attributes—entered the hall from a narrow doorway to the left and, hastening across, bowed low before Hadre. They wore long flowing cloaks of a soft wine-red cloth, but what was most distinct about them was their silver hair—not white, but silver, like a fine wire—which was swept back off their foreheads and tied in a tight bunch at their necks.

“Master?” the elder of them asked. As he turned, Atrus noticed he had two vertical purple stripes beneath his right ear.

“Kaaru…Jaad…” Hadre said, “these are my guests. You will take great care of them and see to all their needs.”

“Master!” the two men said as one, then stepped back, seeming almost to vanish as they slipped into the shadows beside the pillars.

Hadre turned back to his guests and smiled. “And now you will forgive me, Atrus, but I must tell my father the news. He will want to greet you personally.”

 

 

§

 

 

After Hadre had gone the two servants led Atrus and his party through into a second, smaller hall where, once again, a meal had been laid out ready for them.

As in the clearing in the wood, a number of couches had been placed in a circle about the center of the room, within easy reach of the endless delicacies that graced the central table.

Having seen that they were comfortable, Kaaru and Jaad stepped back, seeming to blend once more into the shadows of the walls.

This second hall was both more modest—in its scale—and more opulent—in its detail—than the previous one. Marrim, looking about her, could not help but admire the care these people took. Each bowl, each spoon, each tiny fork, was a work of art, not to speak of the arms of the couches, or the carved panels that filled each wall between the swirling marble pillars.

Not a surface was overlooked. Even the simplest thing was decorated. Yet the overall impression was not overly decorative. There was an underlying simplicity that formed a perfect contrast with the intricate designs. Nothing was out of place here; nothing overwrought.

Looking across, Marrim saw how Atrus stared at the myriad of things surrounding him, looking from one to another with the same awed look, and knew at once that he, too, had seen what she had seen. Yet when he looked up, there was a strange, almost wistful smile on his face. Seeing it, Catherine, who had also been watching him, asked:

“Atrus? What is it?”

Atrus picked up one of the delicate spoons, tracing the molded pattern on its bowl with his thumb, then laughed; a strange, brief, haunted laugh.

“All this,” he said finally. “It reminds me.”

“Of Anna?”

Atrus nodded. “There was never a surface she could leave alone. It was as though the whole universe was a blank page on which she was compelled to write.” He paused, then. “I sense it is the same for these people. I look around and see the same blend of simplicity and embellishment.”

“They must be great dreamers,” Catherine said.

“Yes, and fine craftsmen, too,” Esel added, looking up from the beautifully glazed bowl he was holding.

Marrim nodded, then reached out to take the cool drink so close to hand, sipping at the blood-red liquid delicately. Like the drink she had had in the clearing, this was both refreshing and intoxicating, though not in the way that wine was intoxicating. There was such a scent to this, such an overwhelming taste, that it was as if her senses had been numbed until the moment she had tasted it.

“This Hadre and his father,” Irras said. “They must be very rich men to own all this. They surely cannot
all
live like this.”

“On the contrary…” a voice boomed from the far side of the chamber, “ours is but a humble estate.”

At once they were all on their feet, facing the newcomer—a handsome, elderly looking man with neat dark hair and a stern, patrician air. Yet even as that sternness registered on the mind, the old man smiled and, opening his arms, walked across and embraced Atrus warmly.

“Atrus! Friends and companions of Atrus! I am Jethhe Ro’Jethhe, and you are welcome to my house. Stay as long as you will. My home is your home.”

And with this little speech complete, he walked among them, taking hands or embracing them, coming to Marrim last.

“Young lady,” he said, with a slight bow of his head, as if he spoke to someone high above him in status. “I am indeed most pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Marrim, both delighted and embarrassed by the sudden attention, ducked her head down, feeling a faint flush come to her neck.

And then it was Atrus’s turn to thank Hadre’s father for his hospitality.

“Think nothing of it,” Ro’Jethhe said, with a lazy gesture of dismissal. “I am sure you would do the same were we the visitors and you the hosts.”

 

Atrus smiled. “Indeed we would.”

The old man’s smile encompassed them all. “Well, then. So it is.” Then, turning to Irras. “But forgive me my rudeness, Master Irras. You asked a question, and I gave you but a partial answer. Come then, let us all be seated once more, and I shall answer
all
your questions.”

 

 

§

 

 

It was late afternoon when finally Jethhe Ro’Jethhe clapped his hands and stood.

“Kaaru! Show my guests to their rooms!”

At once his servant was at his back, waiting to do his bidding. Turning to Atrus, Ro’Jethhe smiled. “You have traveled far, my friends. I am sure you will wish to bathe and change your clothes before tonight’s entertainment.”

“Entertainment?” Atrus sat forward. It was the first time Ro’Jethhe had mentioned it.

“Oh, it’s nothing much. A simple thing. A few friends—local landowners—will be invited. And my sons, of course. It will be a chance for you to meet everyone.”

Atrus smiled. “We thank you, Jethhe Ro’Jethhe, for your kindness.”

“Not at all,” the old man said, looking about him and smiling. “I am glad you are here, Atrus. You and all your party. And remember, whatever you want, you have only to ask.”

The two men bowed to one another, then Ro’Jethhe turned and swept from the room, his son hurrying to catch him up.

 

 

§

 

 

The bedroom, like all else, was massive. A huge bed—big enough, it seemed, to sleep a small village—rested in the center of a huge, high-ceilinged room. Here the pillars were thick, eight-sided things of a midnight basalt. Eight of them formed an octagon about the center of that long and airy chamber, thrusting up out of a floor that was made of wood, the broad slats of which were coated with a fine dark red lacquer inset with all manner of ingenious patterns. The partition doors were huge, paneled things, set into walls so thick they reminded Atrus of a fortress he had visited once on an ancient D’ni Age. Most impressive of all, however, was the wide balcony that led off of the room, and gave a perfect view of the surrounding countryside.

A fine silk hanging of pale lemon and blue shimmered in the late afternoon breeze as Catherine stepped beneath it and out onto the stone flags of the balcony.

“Atrus…”

He stepped through, joining her there at the balustrade, the two of them silent a moment as they stared out across the sloping lawns toward a copse of trees; no tree the same, the combination of colorings and textures a delight to the eye. A strange bird called, high and sweet.

Threading her arm through his, Catherine smiled up at him. “Have you ever dreamt of such a place, Atrus?”

“No,” he said. “My mind reels before it, Catherine. To think that it is
all
like this.”

For Jethhe Ro’Jethhe had told them that far from being a rich man, he was but a common citizen, and that there were many—the governor of the district among them—who lived in a far more palatial manner, though how that could be Atrus could not imagine, for this was luxury beyond anything he had ever experienced. Moreover, Ro’Jethhe himself had proved an intelligent and witty man, immensely cultured, quick to understand, and always generous in his comments. Atrus had warmed to him at once.

Even so, it was hard to take in much of what Ro’Jethhe said, and had Atrus not already had that glimpse of the land from the plateau, he might have counted it as boastful. Was this place
really
as big as Ro’Jethhe claimed? Two hundred million citizens! It was difficult to imagine, even though he had seen how the land stretched away from horizon to horizon. Why, if they
all
lived like this, then the wealth of this land must be truly phenomenal. D’ni, even at its height, was as nothing beside it.

While they bathed and changed, Catherine and Atrus talked further of what they had learned from Jethhe Ro’Jethhe.

Terahnee was ruled by a king, supported by a council of advisers, under which were the district governors. Yet astonishingly enough, despite the size of the kingdom, there was no equivalent of the Guild of Maintainers.
No one policed Terahnee because no one needed to
. It was that, more than anything else that they had seen or heard, that most impressed Atrus, for to him it revealed the high moral standard this culture had attained.

This was a land without wars, or theft, or fraud.

“All this…” Atrus said, gesturing at the mosaics, the statuary, and all the other innumerable beautiful things that surrounded them. “
All
of this is quite remarkable, yet without a moral depth it is nothing. The true, defining mark of a civilization is how its people treat each other.”

“They have servants…” Catherine began.

“Yes, but they clearly treat them well, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. Kaaru and Jaad might bow their heads before their masters, yet there is nothing servile about them. Indeed, I sense an air of great pride about them.”

“Do you not find that
strange
, Atrus?”

“In a land such as this? No. Some must work while others plan and organize the work. So it is in all societies. So it was to a degree in D’ni.”

“To a degree.” But Catherine left it there. Besides, she was not really in disagreement with Atrus. To keep a world this beautiful must take a great deal of organizing. And Atrus was right. She had never before met with such servants.

Changing tack, she asked another question that had been playing on her mind.

“Atrus? Do you think they are your kin?”

“D’ni, you mean?”

“Yes. There is the common language, after all…”

“That might have been acquired, or shared, maybe, back in the distant past. It’s possible this was an Age that, losing its connection with D’ni, went its own way.”

“Do you think so?”

“I’d say it was highly likely. For one, they do not share the visual weakness of the D’ni. As far as I have seen, they wear no lenses. And the style in which they build…it is as different from the D’ni as it could possibly be. Their extensive use of wood, for instance.”

“True,” Catherine said, “but that can be easily explained. In D’ni they had no trees. Here there are millions of them—thousands of millions. Besides, over millennia societies take different paths. We should expect such differences.”

“Maybe so,” Atrus said, pulling on a silken jacket that had been left out on the bed for him, “but until I know for certain that there is a link, I will not assume one. The fact that they speak a version of our language proves nothing.”

Catherine was about to pursue the subject when there was a knocking at the door.

“Come!” Atrus said, turning to face the doorway.

But it was only Marrim, Irras, and Carrad. They spilled into the room, all smiles and excitement.

“Master Atrus!” Irras said. “There’s a library!”

“It’s huge!” Carrad added, as they left the room and hurried down a long, broad corridor, the ceiling of which seemed like the bottom of a well it was so far above them.

“And the books!” Marrim added. “You’ve never seen anything like it!”

Atrus smiled at that last, yet when he stepped into the deeply recessed doorway, he stopped dead, astonished.

The library was not a single room, as he’d expected. Indeed, it was not a room at all, but a great hall, with, just beyond it, a second and even a third hall, the walls of which were filled, floor to high ceiling, with books—endless leather-bound books. Enough, it seemed, to fill D’ni!

“And these are simple
landowners?
” Catherine said, voicing his own thought.

“Atrus?”

Atrus turned, surprised, to find Hadre there behind him in the doorway.

“Forgive us, Hadre. We did not mean to pry.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Hadre said, smiling and gesturing that they should go through, into the library. “Whatever you wish to see. As my father said, our home is yours while you stay with us.”

“You are both most generous.”

“Not at all,” Hadre said. “My people love to share the things of the mind. We are great lovers of books. As I sense
you
are.”

He clapped his hands and at once a servant appeared in the doorway to their right. It was not Kaaru or Jaad this time but a much older man. Even so, he wore a similar wine-red cloth, and had the same silver hair, the same striped markings beneath his right ear.

“Master?”

“You will not be needed, Duura. I will see to my guests myself.”

“As you wish, Master.” And with a bow, Duura departed.

“So?” Hadre said, looking to Atrus, smiling once more. “Where would you like to start?”

 

 

§

 

 

The library was not the only wonder in the house. Catherine’s favorite was a great hall of glass partitions filled with the most astonishing plants—in effect, a massive indoor greenhouse, whose levels and separate chambers were each lit at different times of the day from a great lens of a window that was set into the ceiling of the chamber. One could climb within the mazelike chamber into rooms, the floors and walls of which were solid glass, permitting you to believe you walked within a lush, exotic jungle, the air intoxicatingly sweet, the light like that of the primal forest on an untouched world.