Aitrus smiled back at the older man. “I am sorry we have not spoken before now, Guild Master. I did not know you knew so much.”
“Oh, I claim to know very little, Aitrus. At least, by comparison with Master Telanis. And while we are talking of the good Guild Master, he was asking for you not long back. I promised him I would feed you, then send you to his cabin.”
Aitrus, who had just lifted the roll to his mouth again, paused. “Master Telanis wants me?”
Jerahl gestured toward the roll. “Once you’ve been fed. Now finish that or I shall feel insulted.”
“Whatever you say, Master!” And, grinning, Aitrus bit deep into the roll.
§
Aitrus stopped before the Guild Master’s cabin and, taking a moment to prepare himself, reached out and rapped upon the door.
The voice from inside was calm and assured. “Come in!”
He slid back the heavy bolt and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. That much was habit. Every door in the craft was a barrier against fire or unwelcome gases. Turning, he saw that Master Telanis was at his desk looking at the latest survey chart. Facing him across the table was Master Geran. Also there were the four Observers who had joined them three days back. Aitrus took a step toward them and bowed.
“You sent for me, Guild Master?”
“I did. But if you would wait a moment, Aitrus, I must first deal with the news Master Geran has brought us.”
Aitrus lowered his head, conscious that the Legislator—the big man, Kedri—was watching him closely.
“So, Geran,” Telanis went on, indicating the bright red line that ran across the chart in front of him, “you recommend that we circumvent this area?”
The blind man nodded. “The fault itself is narrow, admittedly, but the surrounding rock is of low density and likely to collapse. We could cut through it, of course, and shore up on either side, but I’d say there is more to come the other side of that.”
“You know that?” Kedri asked, interrupting the two.
Geran turned his blank, unseeing eyes upon the Legislator and smiled. “I do not know it, Master Kedri, but my instinct is that this is the mere root of a much larger igneous intrusion. Part of a volcanic system. Imagine the roots of a tree. So such things are. As excavators, we try hard to avoid such instabilities. We look for hard, intact rock. Rock we have no need to support.”
Kedri looked puzzled at that. “But I thought it was your practice to support everything?”
Telanis answered him. “We do, Guild Master. As I said, we are very thorough. But if it is as Master Geran says—and long experience would tend to bear him out—we would do well to drill sideways a way before continuing our ascent. After all, why go courting trouble?”
“So how long will this…detour take?”
Telanis smiled pleasantly. “A week. Maybe two.”
Kedri looked far from pleased, yet he said nothing. Relieved, Telanis looked to Geran once more.
“In the circumstances I approve your recommendation, Master Geran. We shall move back and across. Arrange the survey at once.”
Geran smiled. “I shall do it myself, Guild Master.”
When Geran was gone, Telanis looked across at Aitrus.
“Aitrus, step forward.”
Aitrus crossed the narrow cabin, taking the place Geran had just vacated. “Yes, Guild Master?”
“I want you to place yourself at Guild Master Kedri’s disposal for the next eleven days. I want you to show him how things work and explain to him just what we are doing. And if there’s anything you yourself are uncertain of, you will ask someone who does know. Understand me?”
Surprised, Aitrus nodded. “Yes, Guild Master.” Then, hesitantly, “And my experiments, Guild Master?”
Telanis looked to Kedri. “That depends upon Master Kedri. If he permits, I see no reason why you should not continue with them.”
Kedri turned to Aitrus. Experiments, Guildsman?”
Aitrus looked down, knowing suddenly that he ought not to have mentioned them. “It does not matter, Master.”
“No, Aitrus. I am interested. What experiments are these?”
Aitrus looked up shyly. “I am studying volcanic rocks, master. I wish to understand all I can about their nature and formation.”
Kedri seemed impressed. “A most worthy task, young Aitrus. Perhaps you would be kind enough to show me these experiments?”
Aitrus looked to Telanis, hoping his Master would somehow get him off the hook, but Telanis was staring at the multilayered chart Geran had given him, flipping from page to page and frowning.
Aitrus met Kedri’s eyes again, noting how keenly the other watched him. “As you wish, Guild Master.”
§
The cavern in which they rested was a perfect sphere, or would have been but for the platform on which the two excavators lay. The craft were long and sinuous, like huge, segmented worms, their tough exteriors kept buffed and polished when they were not burrowing in the rock.
Metal ladders went down beneath the gridwork platform to a second, smaller platform to which the junior members of the expedition had had their quarters temporarily removed to make way for their guests. It was to here, after a long, exhausting day of explanations, that Aitrus returned, long after most of his colleagues had retired.
There were thirty-six of them in all, none older than thirty—all of them graduates of the Academy; young guildsmen who had volunteered for this expedition. Some had given up and been replaced along the way, but more than two-thirds of the original crews remained.
Two years, four months, Aitrus thought as he sat on the edge of his bedroll and began to pull off his boots. It was a long time to be away from home. He could have gone home, of course—Master Telanis would have given him leave if he had asked—but that would have seemed like cheating, somehow. No, an expedition was not really an expedition if one could go home whenever one wished.
Even as he kicked his other boot off, he felt the sudden telltale vibration in the platform, followed an instant or two later by a low, almost inaudible rumble. A Messenger was coming!
The expedition had cut its way through several miles of rock, up from one of the smaller, outermost caverns of D’ni. They could, of course, have gone up vertically, like a mine shaft, but so direct a route into D’ni was thought not merely inadvisable but dangerous. The preferred scheme—the scheme the Council had eventually agreed upon—was a far more indirect route, cut at a maximum of 3825 torans—22.032 degrees—from the horizontal. One that could be walked.
One that could also be sealed off with gates and defended.
The rumbling grew, slowly but steadily. You could hear the sound of the turbine engines now.
Slowly but surely they had burrowed through the rock, surveying each one-hundred-span section carefully before they drilled, coating the survaces with a half-span thickness of special D’ni rock, more durable than marble. Last, but not least, they fitted heavy stone brackets into the ceiling of each section—brackets that carried air from the pumping stations back in D’ni.
Between each straight-line section was one of these spherical “nodes”—these resting places where they could carry on experiments while Master Geran and his assistants charted the next stage of their journey through the earth—each node fitted with an airtight gate that could be sealed in an instant.
The rumbling grew to a roar. For a moment the sound of it filled the node, then the engines cut out and there was the downward whine of the turbines as the Messenger slowed.
Aitrus turned and stood, watching as the metal snout of the machine emerged from the entry tunnel, passing through the thick collar of the node-gate, its pilot clearly visible through the transparent front debris shield.
It was a large, tracked vehicle, its three long segments making it seem clumsy in comparison to the sleek excavators, bu as ever Aitrus was glad to see it, for besides bringing them much-needed supplies—it being impossible to “link” supplies direct from D’ni into
the tunnels—it also brought letters from home.
“Aitrus? What time is it?”
Aitrus turned. His friend Jenir had woken and was sitting up.
“Ninth bell,” he answered, bending down to retrieve his boots and pull them on again.
Others had also been woken by the Messenger’s arrival, and were sitting up or climbing from their beds, knowing there was unloading to be done.
He himself had been temporarily excused from such duties; even so, as the others drifted across to the ladders and began to ascend, he followed, curious to see if anything had come for him.
When the last Messenger had come, three days back, it had brought nothing but the Observers—those unexpected “guests” billeted upon them by the Council. Before that it had been almost three weeks since they had had contact with D’ni. Three solid weeks without news.
The Messenger had come to rest between the two excavators. Already its four-man crew were busy, running pipelines between the middle segment of their craft and the two much larger vehicles, ready to transfer its load of mechanical parts, equipment, drill bits, fuel, and cooling fluid to the excavators.
Aitrus yawned, then walked across. The young men of the Messengers Guild were of nature outward, friendly types, and seeing him, one of them hailed him.
“Ho! Aitrus! There’s a parcel for you!”
“A parcel?”
The Messenger gestured toward where one of his colleagues was carrying a large mesh basket into the forward cabin of the left-hand excavator.
Aitrus turned and looked, then hurried after, almost running into Master Telanis coming out.
“Aitrus! Why such a hurry?”
“Forgive me, Guild Master. I was told there was a parcel for me.”
“Ah,” Telanis made to walk on, then stopped, lowering his voice. “By the way, how was our guest?”
Tiring, he wanted to answer. “Curious,” he said after a moment, keeping his own voice low. “Oh, and imaginative.”
Telanis frowned. “How so?”
“It would seem we are too cautious for him, Guild Master. Our methods are, well…inefficient.”
Telanis considered that, then nodded. “We must talk, Aitrus. Tomorrow. Early, perhaps, before Master Kedri has need of you. There are things you need to know.”
Aitrus bowed. “I shall call on you at third bell, Master.”
“Good. Now go and see what the Messengers have brought.”
Master Tejara of the Messengers had commandeered the table in the chart room to sort out the post. Surrounded by shelves of bound surveys, he looked up from his work as Aitrus entered.
“Ah, Aitrus. And how are you today?”
“I am well, Guild Master.”
Tejara flashed a smile at him. “You’ve heard, then?”
“Master?” But Aitrus’s eyes had already gone to the large, square parcel—bound in cloth and stitched—that rested to one side of the table.
“Here,” Master Tejara said, handing it to him.
Aitrus took it, surprised by how heavy it seemed. Unable to help himself, he held it to his ear and shook it gently.
There was a gentle chime.
“Well?” Tejara said, grinning at him now. “Are you going to open it or not?”
Aitrus hesitated a moment, then set the parcel down on the table and, taking a slender chisel from his tool belt, slit open the stitching. The cloth fell back.
Inside was a tiny wooden case, the top surface of which was a sliding panel. He slid it back and looked inside.
“By the Maker!”
Aitrus reached in and drew out the delicate, golden pair of portable scales. They were perfect, the spring mechanism of the finest make, the soft metal inlaid with tiny silver D’ni numerals. Nor were they the only thing. Setting the scales down carefully, he reached in once more and took out a flat, square rosewood box the size of his palm. Opening it, Aitrus stared openmouthed at the exposed pair of D’ni geological compasses, his fingertips gently brushing the tiny crystal magnifier that enabled one to read the tiny calibrations. For a moment he simply looked, studying the minute transparent dials and delicate adjustable attachments that overlay the simple circle of its working face, then shook his head in wonder.
“Is it your Naming Day, Aitrus?” Tejara asked.
“No,” Aitrus said distractedly as he reached in a third time to lift out an envelope marked simply “Guildsman Aitrus” in an unfamiliar hand.
He frowned, then looked to Tejara, who simply shrugged. Slitting the envelope open, he took out the single sheet and unfolded it.
“Aitrus,” it began,
You might remember me from school days. I realize we were not the best of friends, but we were both young then and such misunderstandings happen. Recently, however, I chanced upon a report you wrote among my father’s papers and was reminded of those unfortunate days, and it occurred to me that I might do something to attempt to reverse your poor opinion of me. If the enclosed gifts are unwelcome, please forgive me. But I hope you will accept them in the same spirit with which they are given. Good luck with your explorations! Yours in friendship, Veovis.
Atrus looked up, astonished to see that signature at the foot of the note.
“It is from Veovis,” he said quietly. “Lord Rakeri’s son.”
Tejara looked surprised. “Veovis is your friend, Aitrus?”
Aitrus shook his head. “No. At least, he was no friend to me at school.”
“Then these gifts are a surprise?”
“More a shock, to be honest, Guild Master. Yet people change, I suppose.”
Tehara nodded emphatically. “You can be certain of it, Aitrus. Time teaches many things. It is the rock in which we bore.”
Aitrus smiled at the old saying.
“Oh, and before I forget,” Tejara added, handing him his mail, “there are three letters for you this time.”
§
Aitrus lay there a long time, unable to sleep, staring at the pattern of shadows on the smooth, curved wall of the node, wondering what the gifts meant.
His letters had contained the usual, cheerful news from home—chatter about old friends from his mother, word of Council matters from his father. But his mind kept going back to the note.
That Veovis had written at all was amazing, that he had sent gifts was...well, astonishing!
And not just any gifts, but just those things that he most needed in his work.
Oh, there were plenty of scales and compasses he could use—property of the guild—but not his own. Nor were the guild’s instruments anything as fine as those Veovis had given him. Why, they were as good as those that hung from Master Telanis’s own tool belt!
When finally he did manage to sleep, it was to find himself dreaming of his school days, his mind, for some strange yet obvious reason, going back to a day in his thirteenth year when, tired of turning his back on Veovis’s constant taunts, he had turned and fought him.
He woke to find Master Telanis shaking him.
“Come, Aitrus. Third bell has sounded. We need to talk.”
§
The cabin door was locked. Master Telanis sat behind his desk, looking up at Aitrus.
“Well, Aitrus, how did you fare with Master Kedri?”
Aitrus hesitated, not sure how much to say. The truth was he did not like the task he had been given. It made him feel uncomfortable.
Telanis coaxed him gently. “You said he felt our methods were inefficient.”
“Oh, indeed, Guild Master. He constantly commented upon how slow our methods are. How overcautious.”
“And do you agree with him, Aitrus? Do you think, perhaps, that we are too pedantic in our ways?”
“Not at all, Guild Master. There is, after all, no hurry. Whether we reach the surface this year or next does not matter. Safety must be our first concern.”
Telanis stared at him a moment, then nodded. “Good. Now let me tell you a few things, Aitrus. First, I am aware that this task is not really to your liking.�
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Aitrus made to object, but Telanis raised a hand. “Make no mistake, Aitrus. I realize ou are not at ease looking after Master Kedri, but I chose you for a reason. The good Master seeks to sound us out on certain topics—to survey our attitudes, if you like.”
Aitrus looked horrified at the thought. “Should I watch what I say, Master?”
“Not at all, Aitrus. I have no fear that you will say anything that might upset Master Kedri. That is why I chose you. You are like basalt, Aitrus, solid through and through. But it would help me if, at the end of each day, you would note down those areas in which Master Kedri seemed most interested.”
Aitrus hesitated. “Might I ask why, Master?”
“You may. But you must keep my answer strictly to yourself.” Telanis paused, steepling his fingers before his chin. “There is to be a meeting of the Council, a month from now. It seems that some of the older members have had a change of heart. They have thought long and hard about whether we should make contact with the surface dwellers or not, and a few of them now feel it might not be quite so good an idea as it first seemed. Indeed, they might even ask us to abandon the expedition.”
Unable to help himself, Aitrus slammed his fist down on the desk. “But they can’t!”
Master Telanis smiled tolerantly. “If that is their final word, then so be it. We must do what they say. We cannot argue with the Council.”
Aitrus lowered his head, acknowledging what Master Telanis said. The Council was the ruling body of D’ni and their word was law. His own opinion was irrelevant—it was what the five Great Lords and the eighteen Guild Masters decided that was important.
“That is why,” Telanis went on, “it is so important that we impress our guests, Aitrus, for they represent the Eighteen and the Five. What they report back might yet prove crucial in swaying the decision…either for us or against us.”
The Myst Reader Page 28
