The Myst Reader

by Rand; Robyn Miller; David Wingrove

  Aitrus bowed his head. “My Lord…”

  §

  A month passed with no word or sign of the two missing guildsmen. Slowly the great sweep of the sixty Ages came to a close. Two days after the departure of Aitrus and the Maintainer team from K’veer, Veovis sat on the veranda at the top of the island, reading his father’s copy of the report.

  Turning the final page, he read the concluding remarks, then set the report down on the low table at his side and sat back, staring thoughtfully into the distance.

  Suahrnir, seated just across from him, studied his friend a moment, then, “Well? What does our friend Aitrus say?”

  Veovis was silent a moment, then he turned his head and looked at Suahrnir. “He was most thorough. But also fair. Scrupulously so. I may have misjudged him”

  “You think so?” Suahrnir laughed. “Personally I think he feels nothing but animosity toward you, Veovis.”

  “Maybe so, but there is nothing in the report.”

  “In the official report, maybe…”

  Veovis narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that what is written down for all to see is not always what is said…in private. What if Master Aitrus gave another, separate report to the Five?”

  “Then my father would have heard of such, and he, in turn, would have told me.”

  “Or to Lord R’hira alone?”

  Veovis looked down, then shook his head. “No,” he said, but the word lacked certainty.

  “What if he found something?”

  “Found? What could he find?”

  “Oh, I don’t mean found as in really found. Yet he might say he found something.”

  “And the Maintainers?”

  Suahrnir gave an ironic smile. “They could be fooled easily enough. They were, after all, but apprentice guildsmen.”

  The thought of it clearly disturbed Veovis nonetheless he shook his head once more. “Aitrus does not like me, but that does not make him a cheat, not a slanderer.”

  “Who knows what makes a man do certain things? You hurt him badly when you opposed his marriage to the outsider. It is not the kind of thing a man forgets easily. And it is a more than adequate motive to wish to seek revenge.”

  Veovis looked down, his whole expression dark and brooding. Finally, he raised his head again. “No, I cannot believe it of him.”

  Suahrnir leaned forward, speaking conspiratorially now. “Maybe not. But there is a way we could be certain.”

  “Certain? How?”

  “I have a friend. He hears things…from servants and the like. If something secretive is going on, he will have heard of it.”

  “This friend of yours…who is he?”

  Suahrnir smiled and sat back. “You know his name.”

  “A’Gaeris!” Veovis laughed dismissively, then shook his head. “You ask me to take his word?”

  “You do not have to believe anything he says,” Suahrnir answered. ‘But what harm will it do to listen? You might learn something to your benefit.”

  “And what does he want out of this?”

  Suahrnir looked surprised at the suggestion. “Why, nothing. Nothing at all. The man owes me a favor. Besides, I think you will enjoy meeting him. Yes, and he you. You are both strong, intelligent men. I would enjoy watching you lock horns.”

  Veovis stared at his friend, then, with a grudging shrug of his shoulders, he said, “All right. Arrange a meeting. But no word of this must get out. If anyone should witness our meeting…”

  Suahrnir smiled, then stood, giving a little bow to his friend. “Don’t worry, Veovis. I know the very place.”

  §

  It was D’ni night. Not the night of moon and stars you would find up on the surface, but a night of intense, almost stygian shadow. The lake was dark, the organisms in the water inactive, their inner clocks set to a thirty-hour biological cycle established long ago and in another place, far from earth.

  On the roof garden of Kahlis’s mansion, Anna stood alone, leaning on the parapet, looking out over the upper city. Earlier in the evening it had been a blaze of light; now only scattered lamps marked out the lines of streets. Then it had seemed like a great pearled shell, clinging to the dark wall of the cavern; now it looked more like a ragged web, strung across one corner of a giant’s larder.

  Out on the lake itself the distant wink of lights revealed the whereabouts of islands. Somewhere out there, on one of those islands, was Aitrus. Or, at least, he would have been, were he in D’ni at all.

  Anna sighed, missing him intensely, then turned, hearing the child’s cries start up again in the nursery below where she stood. For a moment she closed her eyes, tempted to leave things to the nurse, then, steeling herself against the sound, she went across and, bending down, lifted the wooden hatch that was set into the floor. Slipping inside, she went down the narrow stairs and out into the corridor that ran the length of the top of the house.

  At once the sound of the crying grew much louder; a persistent, whining cry that never seemed to end; or if it did, it ended but briefly, only to intensify.

  Stepping into the room, Anna saw that the nurse had been joined by her male colleague, Master Jura of the Guild of Healers. The ancient looked up from the desk in the corner where he had been writing and frowned at Anna, as if she and not the baby were the cause of the problem.

  Ignoring him, Anna walked over to the cot and looked down at her son. Gehn lay on his back, his tiny red face screwed up tight as he bawled and bawled, his mouth a jagged black O in the midst of that redness, his arms and legs kicking in a continuous mechanical movement of distress. The sight of it distressed her. It made her want to pick him up and cuddle him, but that would solve nothing; the crying would go on whatever she did.

  “Well…” the Healer said after a moment, consulting his notes, “I would say that the matter is a simple one.”

  Anna saw how he looked at her, his manner cold and unsympathetic, and felt her stomach tighten.

  “The child’s problems stem from its stomach,” the Healer continued. “He cries because he is not receiving adequate sustenance, and because he is in pain.”

  “In pain?”

  The healer nodded, then looked to his notes again. “If the child were D’ni it would be fairly easy to prescribe something for his condition, but as it is…”

  “Forgive me,” Anna interrupted, “but what difference does that make?”

  Master Jura blinked, surprised. When he spoke again, there was a note of impatience in his voice. “Is it not self-evident? The child is unnatural. A hybrid. He is neither D’ni nor human, but some curious mixture of the two, and therein lie his problems. Why, it is astonishing that he is even viable!”

  Anna felt the shock of what he had said wash through her. How dare he talk of her son as if he were some strange experiment! She looked down at the bawling child, then back at the old Healer.

  “Have you tested him, Master Jura?”

  The old man laughed dismissively. “I do not have to test him. As I said, it is self-evident. One cannot mix human and D’ni blood. To be perfectly honest with you, the child would be better off dead.”

  Anna stared at him, her anger rising. Then, with a calmness she did not feel, she spoke.

  “Get out.”

  The old man had gone back to his notes. At her words, he looked up, glancing first at the nurse, to see if it were she whom Anna had addressed, and then at Anna herself.

  “Yes,” Anna said, her face hard now. “You, old man. You heard me. Get out before I throw you out!”

  “Why, I…”

  “Get out!” she shouted, focusing her anger on the man. “How dare you come into my house and tell me that my son would be better off dead! How dare you!”

  Master Jura bristled, then, closing up his notes, he slipped them into his case and stood.

  “I will not stay where I am not wanted.”

  “Good,” Anna said, wanting to strike the man for his impertinence. “And you,” sh
e said, turning on the nurse. “Pack your things and go. I have no further use for you.”

  §

  It was a quiet first-floor room in a house in the J’taeri District, overlooking the harbor. As the door closed, Veovis looked about him. It was a staid, respectable room, three large chairs resting against one wall, a large, dark-wood dresser against another. On the third, either side of the huge picture window, were two portraits. He walked across and studied them a moment. Both of the women looked stern and matronly, their clothing dark and austere—the dour uniform of respectable D’ni women for four thousand years and more.

  He shook his head, then turned. The city bell was sounding the fourth hour of the afternoon. All was peaceful.

  Would A’Gaeris come? And if he did, what would the old fraud have to say?

  He could remember how angry A’Gaeris had been, the day of his expulsion—could remember vividly how he had glared at the Grand Master before throwing down his guild cloak and storming from the Hall.

  Veovis had been but a student that day, not even a guildsman, let alone a Master. And now here he was, almost fifty years on.

  The door behind him creaked open. Veovis turned, to find Suahrnir standing there.

  “Has he come?”

  Suahrnir nodded, then stood back as A’Gaeris entered the room. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man, but stout in girth and balding, his gray hair swept back from his pate and worn unfashionably long. He wore a simple black tunic and long baggy pants of a similar black cloth. But it was his eyes that drew attention. Fierce eyes that stared intently, almost insolently back at Veovis.

  “My Lord,” A’Gaeris said, the slightest sneer in the greeting.

  “Philosopher,” Veovis replied, matching his tone perfectly.

  A’Gaeris smiled. “I was not wrong, then.”

  “Wrong?”

  “I said you had fire in you. And I was right.”

  Veovis smiled sardonically. “That would be praise if from another’s lips.”

  “But not from mine?”

  “I do not know you, except by reputation.”

  “You have read my writings, then?”

  “Not a word.”

  A’Gaeris barely batted an eyelid at the news. “Then that is a joy to come.”

  “And modest, too?”

  “Need I be?”

  Veovis smiled, warming to the man. “You are sharp, A’Gaeris, I’ll give you that.”

  “Sharp enough to cut yourself on, I warrant. So why are you here?”

  “To be honest, I am not sure. I was persuaded that you might help me.”

  “Help you?” A’Gaeris laughed, then walked to the window and stared out. “But you are a Lord of D’ni. How can I, a mere common man, help you?”

  But there was a teasing glint in the Philosopher’s eyes that intrigued Veovis.

  “I do not know.”

  “No.” A’Gaeris looked back at him and smiled. “But maybe I do.”

  “Go on.”

  “I hear things.”

  “So Suahrnir told me. But are they things worth hearing?”

  A’Gaeris shrugged. “What would you know?”

  “Something to my benefit?”

  “And your foes’ disadvantage?”

  “Perhaps.”

  The Philosopher smiled. “We share one important thing, Lord Veovis. A love of D’ni, and a belief in the purity of D’ni blood.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I speak of your once-friend Aitrus and his ill-chosen wife.”

  Veovis narrowed his eyes. “What of them?”

  “Only last night, it seems, the outsider woman sent Master Jura of the Healers away with his tail between his legs. And the child’s nurse.”

  Veovis looked to Suahrnir again. This was news indeed if it were true.

  “Do you know why?”

  A’Gaeris grinned broadly. “It seems Master Jura suggested that it might save time and trouble were the half-breed to be peacefully done away with.”

  Veovis stared back at him a moment, astonished. “And what did Master Aitrus say of this?”

  “What could he say? He is away. But he will know soon enough when he is back.”

  “It is a shame.”

  “Indeed,” A’Gaeris agreed. “Such a union should never have been allowed.”

  “I did all I could to prevent it.”

  “I know.” The Philosopher was looking at him now with sympathy and understanding.

  Veovis looked down. “It seems you know what I want, Philosopher. But what of you? What do you want?”

  “To be your friend.”

  Veovis looked up, smiling, expecting some sardonic look upon A’Gaeris face, but those eyes were serious and solemn.

  “I have missed the company of my peers,” A’Gaeris said. “It is all very well preaching to the rabble, but it changes nothing. My life ended when the guild threw me out.”

  “They had good reason…”

  “They had none!”

  The sharpness of the rejoinder surprised Veovis.

  “I was falsely accused,” A’Gaeris went on. “There was no missing book. Or if there was, it was not I who took it.”

  “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.”