The Myst Reader

by Rand; Robyn Miller; David Wingrove

  It was not until he saw the machine that he knew for sure; not until then that he knew Anna had been wrong to intercede.

  It was not her fault, he kept telling himself; she was not to know. Yet it was hard to see it otherwise. All of this death, all of this vast suffering and misery, was down to a single man, Veovis. For all that A’Gaeris had been a willing partner, it was Veovis’s bitterness, his anger and desire for revenge, that had been behind this final, futile act. And if he had been dead?

  Then my father would yet be alive. And Lord R’hira. And Master Jadaris. And Jerahl…

  Aitrus sat up, shaking his head, but the darkness kept coming back. Ti’ana is to blame. My darling wife, Ti’ana.

  “No!”

  Outside a bird flapped away between the trees.

  It was the first natural sound he had heard in days.

  Aitrus sniffed the air. It smelled sweet. He could still smell the rubber of the mask upon his face, but this air was different. It lacked the strange metallic taste of the air he had grown accustomed to.

  Slowly, almost stumblingly, he climbed up, until he stood at the mouth of the cave, looking down through the trees toward the encampment. It seemed empty, deserted, but then it was late.

  Hi sighed. I ought to wash, he thought. More than that, I ought to burn these clothes, or bury them. Just in case…

  In truth, he ought not to have come. Indeed, he would not have come but for the fact that lack of air had addled his brain. But now that he was back he would make the best of things.

  At least the Linking Book was relatively safe; though who knew how thorough Veovis would be? If he chose to search the tunnels, then he might come upon it, lying there, and then even Gemedet would not be safe.

  The thought of it petrified him.

  He had the urge to cough. Stifling it, he turned, looking up beyond the cave. If he remembered correctly, there was a path that led up and to the left, curving across to the head of the falls. He would find a place up there and bury the suit, then wash himself.

  And then he would come back here, naked, the bearer of ill news, to face his mother and his wife.

  §

  They had found Aitrus up by the pool, beside the waterfall, his body bathed in sweat, his eyes staring. Getting two servants to carry him, they had brought him back to the encampment and laid him on the bed. Then, for the next three days, Tasera and Anna took turns tending him, bathing his brow, and holding his hand while the fever raged on.

  On the morning of the fourth day he finally woke. Anna had been sleeping in the tent nearby when Gehn came and shook her.

  “Mother! Mother! Father is awake!”

  She hurried across to the cabin to find Aitrus awake, his eyes clear and lucid. Tasera sat beside him, smiling and holding his hand. He looked weak, but he was alive, and seeing Anna, a faint smile came to his lips.

  “Ti’ana…”

  His voice was little more than a breath.

  “Do not talk,” she said, going over to kneel beside the bed and take his hand.

  “I must,” he said, the words the faintest whisper.

  “No,” she said. “You must rest. You must get back your strength.”

  But Aitrus shook his head. “I am dying, Ti’ana. I know it. But I have been given this moment and I must use it.”

  He paused, coughing a little, then continued, his voice wavering a little.

  “They are dead. Everyone…dead. My father…I buried him. And D’ni…D’ni is ended. But there is a way out. Through the tunnels. I mapped it. My notebook…”

  “Yes, yes,” Anna said, impatiently. “But you must rest now, Aitrus, please.”

  For a moment his eyes blinked closed. With an effort he opened them again, his eyes looking to Anna pleadingly. “You must go, Ti’ana. Please. Promise me you will go. You are not safe here…”

  “Why? Why aren’t we safe here?”

  But Aitrus had drifted into sleep again. His head had fallen back and his breathing was shallow.

  “Let him sleep,” Tasera said, looking to Anna, as if concern for her boy was the only thing in the universe; yet Anna could see that Aitrus’s news had shocked her. Indeed, it had shocked them both. Then, suddenly, she remembered Gehn.

  She whirled about. Gehn was standing in the doorway, staring, his face aghast.

  “It isn’t true,” he said, his voice tiny. “Tell me it isn’t true!”

  But she could not lie, and as he saw it in her face, so that look returned: a look of purest horror. Turning, he fled.

  “Gehn!” she cried, going to the doorway. “Gehn! Come back!”

  But Gehn was already at the edge of the wood. With the barest glance back, he disappeared among the trees.

  Anna turned back, looking to Tasera, but Tasera was not there. Her eyes seemed distant and hollow now and her shoulders sagged, as if her son’s soft words—so quiet, so insubstantial—had broken her. Even as Anna looked, a tear trickled down Tasera’s cheek and fell.

  Gone. All of it gone. But how was that possible? Surely some had survived?

  She stared at Aitrus, wondering what else he had not told her. Why was this Age not safe? Why?

  “Tell me, Aitrus,” she said quietly. “Please tell me.”

  But Aitrus did not answer her.

  §

  That afternoon Tasera took to her bed, complaining of a migraine. Anna, thinking it had to do with Kahlis’s death, decided it was best to leave her be to grieve. Having made certain Tasera was comfortable, she went to see if she could find where Gehn had got to. There was no sign of him. But when she returned two hours later it was to find that Tasera had worsened considerably.

  Not only that, but the two servants who had helped carry Aitrus down from the pool were now displaying the exact same symptoms he had shown. They had been suffering from minor stomach pains for days, but now both of them had gone down with a full-blown fever.

  As the afternoon became evening, Anna began o grow worried. Aitrus still showed no sign of waking, yet it was for Tasera she was most concerned, for she had slipped into a fretful, fevered sleep. Then, just after sundown, Anna went to check on the two servants, whom she had placed nearby in the storage tent, and found that one of them had died.

  She was standing there, outside the tent, when Gehn wandered back into the camp.

  “Gehn?”

  Gehn did not even glance at her, but walked on past her, going inside the cabin.

  Anna walked across. Gehn was sitting in a corner, in the darkness, staring at his father’s reclining form. She watched him a moment, her heart going out to him. Then, taking the lantern from the side, she struck the fire-marble, closed the plate, and hung it on the hook overhead.

  In its sudden glow she could see that Gehn had been crying.

  “Gehn? Are you all right?”

  He turned his head and looked at her, coldly, sullenly, then looked away.

  “Two of the servants are ill,” she said quietly.

  Gehn made no gesture, no response. He simply stared at his father.

  “Gehn…we must think of leaving here.”

  But Gehn was like a statue, his child’s face hard and cold as it stared at his dying father.

  §

  That night the rest of the servants ran away. While Gehn slept, Anna sat beside Tasera, bathing her face and holding her hand. Yet in the early hours of morning, Aitrus’s mother convulsed and died.

  Anna sat there for a long time afterward, staring into space. Gehn was asleep in the corner. Aitrus lay nearby, his shallow breathing barely audible. In this one room was her whole world—all that mattered to her, anyway—and it was slowly falling apart about her.

  Just as before, she thought, real despair touching her for he first time.

  She stood up abruptly then crossed the room, picking up the bag Aitrus had brought back with him from D’ni. She had been busy until now even to remember it, but now she sat down and rummaged through it.

  Here was his journal, that he kept with hi
m at all times.

  Lighting a lamp, she opened the notebook and began to leaf through it, stopping finally at a series of maps and diagrams Aitrus had made. The first were of the tunnels leading to the cavern where the machines were and, beyond it, several miles distant, the Lodge. Aitrus had added to this map, drawing thick dark lines across a number of the tunnels. It was clear that they were blocked. Indeed, looking at the map, she saw that there was no access to the surface by this route. On the next page was another map, but this one ended in dead-ends and white, unfilled space.

  Anna looked up, understanding. Aitrus had spent the last week or so tramping through the tunnels, trying to find a route for their escape, spending his precious energies so that they might find a safe way to the surface.

  Aitrus was dying, she knew that now for certain. Yet even at the end he had been true. Even at the end he had thought of others before himself. Of her, and Gehn.

  She looked back at the journal. The next map was different—much more complex than the others. It extended over several pages.

  Anna smiled, appreciating what he had done here. Elevations, rock-types, physical details—all were noted down. It was a real labyrinth, but Aitrus had done his best to make each twist and turn as clear as he could. She traced the zigzag line of it with her finger over several pages, then looked up, laughing softly.

  The volcano! It came out at the old dormant volcano where her father and she had used to stop on their way to Tadjinar.

  She smiled and spoke softly to the air. “You did well, my love.”

  “Did I?”

  His voice, so unexpected, startled her. She turned to find him sitting up, watching her.

  “Aitrus?”

  “We have to go.”

  Anna blinked. You are dying, she thought. You are not going anywhere. But he was insistent.

  “You must pack, Ti’ana. Now, while there is still time.”

  “Time for what?”

  “I am coming with you,” he said, then coughed. “Back to D’ni. I will help you find the way.”

  “But you are ill, Aitrus.”

  In answer he threw back the sheet and, steadying himself against the wall with one hand, slowly stood. His eyes looked to her imploringly. “I must do this, Ti’ana. Do you understand that?”

  She stared at him, her fear and love for him mixed violently at that moment, and then she nodded. “I understand.”

  §

  Packing the last few things into the bag, Anna slipped it onto her back and went outside, into the sunlight. Gehn was just below her, standing beside his father, supporting him, as they looked down at Tasera’s grave.

  Anna sighed, then walked across. Gehn was wearing the suit she had made for him and the mask lay loose about his neck. His own knapsack was on his back.

  “Are you ready?”

  Both Gehn and Aitrus looked to her and nodded. Then, on impulse, Gehn ran down the slope and, bending, leaned out over the edge.

  Anna looked to Aitrus and frowned, wondering what he was doing, but in a moment Gehn was back, holding out a tiny sheath of white flowers for her to take. Two other bunches were in his other hand.

  She took them from him, then, knowing what he intended, cast the flowers onto Tasera’s grave and stepped back, allowing Gehn and Aitrus to do the same.

  “Farewell, dear Mother,” Aitrus said, looking out past the mound at the beauty of the valley. “You will be with me always.”

  Gehn stood there a moment, then, bowing his head, scattered the flowers and said his own farewell: “Goodbye, Grandmother. May we meet again in the next Age.”

  Anna blinked, surprised. He seemed to have grown up so much these past few weeks. She put out her hand to him.

  “Come, Gehn. We must go now.”

  Gehn hesitated a moment, then, with a glance at his father, reached out and took her hand. Anna gave it a little squeeze, then, turning from the grave, began to climb the slope, heading for the linking cave, Aitrus following behind.

  §

  It was the twenty-second day after the fall.

  Anna stood beside Aitrus on the balcony of the mansion, Gehn in front of her, her arms about his shoulders as they looked out over the ruins of D’ni. To her surprise the air had proved clean, and after several tests in the workroom, they had decided to remove their masks. There was no trace now of the gas that had wreaked such havoc, though its residue remained, like a dried crust over everything. Moreover, someone had reactivated the great fans that brought the air into the cavern, and the algae of the lake had recovered enough to give off a faint, almost twilight glow. In that faint illumination they could see the extent of the devastation.

  The sight was desolate beyond all words. What had once been the most magnificent of cities was now a mausoleum, an empty, echoing shell of its former glory.

  She could feel Gehn trembling and knew that he was close to tears. All that he had ever known lay within the compass of his sight. His shattered hopes and dreams were here displayed, naked to the eye. Why, even the great rock that stood in the very midst of the lake had split, like wood before the axe.

  “Come,” she said gently, meeting Aitrus’s eyes. “Let us go from here.”

  Walking down through the dead streets, their sense of desolation grew. Barely a house stood without great cracks in its walls; barely a wall or gate remained undamaged. From time to time the rubble of a house would block their way and they were forced to backtrack, but eventually they came out by the harbor’s edge.

  They great statues that had once lined the harbor wall were cracked or fallen. The great merchant fleet that once had anchored here now rested on the harbor’s floor. They could see their long shadows thirty, forty feet below the surface.

  Anna turned, looking about her. There was no sign anywhere of a boat, and they needed a boat. Without one there was no chance of getting across the lake.

  “There are boathouses to the east of the harbor,” Aitrus said, “down by the lake’s edge. There will be barges there.”

  But the boathouses were burned, the barges smashed. Someone had made sure they could not get across. Aitrus sighed and sat, his remaining strength almost spent.

  “I’ll go and look,” Anna said, gesturing to Gehn that he should sit with his father and take care of him. “There must be something.”

  In a moment she was back, her eyes shining. “There is!” she said. “One boat. A small thing, but big enough for us three.”

  Aitrus’s eyes came up, suspicion in them. “Was it tied up?”

  She nodded, then frowned. “What is it?”

  But Aitrus merely shook his head. “Nothing. Let us go at once.”

  Gehn helped his father stand, then supported him as they made their way toward where the boat was moored. They were not halfway across when a fearful cry rang out from the lower city at their backs.

  All three of them turned, shocked by the sudden sound.

  It came again.

  Aitrus looked to his wife. “Go to the boat, Ti’ana. Take Gehn and wait there for me. it might be Jiladis.”

  “But Aitrus…”

  “Go to the boat. I’ll join you in a while.”

  Anna hesitated, reluctant to let him go, yet she knew that this, too, was his duty—to help his fellow guildsmen if in need. Taking Gehn’s hand she led him away, but all the while she kept glancing back at Aitrus, watching as he slowly crossed the open harbor front, then disappeared into one of the narrow alleyways.

  “Come, Gehn,” she said. “Let us secure the boat for when your father returns.”

  §

  Aitrus leaned against the wall, doubled up, getting his breath. The pain in his limbs and in his stomach was growing worse and he felt close now to exhaustion. Moreover, he was lost. Or, at least, he had no idea just where the sounds had come from. He had thought it was from somewhere in this locality, but now that he was here there was nothing. The deserted streets were silent.

  Across from him a sign hung over the shadowed door of a taver
n. There were no words, but the picture could be glimpsed, even through the layer of gray-brown residue. It showed a white, segmented worm, burrowing blindly through the rock. The sight of it made him frown, as if at some vague, vestigial memory. The Blind Worm. Where had he heard mention of that before?

  Aitrus straightened, looking up. The windows of the upper story were open, the shutters thrown back.

  Even as he looked, there came a loud, distinctive groan.

  So he had not been wrong. Whoever it was, they were up there, in that second-floor room.

  Aitrus crossed the street then slowly pushed the door open, listening. The groan came again. A set of narrow stairs led up to his right. They were smeared, as if many feet had used them. Cautiously, looking about him all the while, he slipped inside and began to climb them, careful to make no noise.

  He was almost at the top when from the room above came a grunt and then another pained groan. Something creaked.

  Aitrus stopped then turned his head, looking up into the open doorway just behind him, beyond the turn in the stairs.

  A soft, scraping noise came from the room, and then a tiny gasp of pain. That sound released Aitrus. Finding new reserves of energy, he hurried up the final steps.

  Standing in the doorway, he gasped, astonished by the sight that met his eyes.

  It was a long, low-ceilinged room, with windows overlooking the harbor. In the center of the room a table was overturned and all three chairs. Blood smeared the floor surrounding them, trailing away across the room. And at the end of that trail of blood, attempting to pull himself up onto the window ledge, was Veovis, the broad blade of a butcher’s cleaver buried deep in his upper back.

  “Veovis!”

  But Veovis seemed unaware of his presence. His fingers clutched at the stone ledge as his feet tried to push himself up, his face set in an expression of grim determination.