From his position on the other side of the bars, Esel looked on. He, too, wore protective garb.
“Well? Is it the same?” he asked, waiting for Oma to check back in his notes.
Oma ruffled through the pages, then stopped, having clearly found what he was looking for, and read through the earlier passage. Half turning, he shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s almost the same…”
“Almost?” Esel’s heavy eyebrows went up.
For the last hour or so the two brothers had been debating a passage partway through the text that seemed to have no correlation with the normal, expected structure of such Descriptive Books. In it, many of the earlier passages they had already translated seemed to be repeated, yet with minor changes of phrasing and emphasis.
“The changes are so minor…It’s almost as if the writer is trying to reinforce the earlier phrases.”
“Hmmm…” Esel frowned deeply. “Reinforcement, yes. But to what purpose?”
“To make it more stable, perhaps?” Atrus said, coming across from where he had been checking one of the big E.V. suits.
“Then why not a direct repetition?”
“Because that would be redundant. By making such subtle changes in the repeated phrases, the writer may have been attempting to make the Age he was writing more specific.”
Oma had turned to face Atrus. “But why not simply put in those subtleties first time round?”
“As I said. To make it all more stable. I know from experience that the more subtle you try to be, the more specific, the more unstable your Ages are likely to be. It was the one great flaw with the worlds my father wrote.”
“Then why did the practice cease?”
“Who can say? Things change. Perhaps they felt it was redundant and let the practice lapse.”
“Maybe,” Oma said. “Yet I rather like it. That is, if it is what you think it is, Master Atrus.”
“And I,” Atrus said, smiling. Then, changing the subject, “Are you still having problems with the phraselogy?”
Oma grinned and looked to his brother. “We were, but we think we’ve mastered that now. Most of the oddities are simple structural inversions in the individual sentences. They probably accord with standard speech patterns of that time.”
Atrus nodded. They knew now, for certain, that the underlying basis of the ancient script was D’ni, for the primitive forms matched the modern ones virtually one-to-one.
“So how long do you think it will take you to complete the work?”
Oma looked to his brother. “Two days? Three at most.”
“Then keep to it. And Oma…”
“Yes, Master Atrus?”
“You might ask Marrim and Irras to look at the characters you have not yet managed to translate. They have a fresh eye to the language, and who knows if they might not see what more familiar eyes would overlook.”
“I shall prepare a page for them.”
“Good. Then I shall leave you to it.”
§
It was time, Atrus decided, to make a decision.
For the best part of a day he had sat alone at his desk, reading through the translated copy of the Book.
“Well?” Catherine asked finally, taking a seat across from him.
Atrus considered a moment, then answered her. “It is phrased so strangely. Unlike the D’ni Books we are used to. There is a certain…ambiguity to it. And yet, on the surface, it seems a safe and stable world. Those reinforcing phrases would seem to make it so. Yet what if there’s something we’ve overlooked? Some small yet crucial detail.” He shook his head. “I can’t risk one of our people being trapped there.”
“Then do as Master Terhagn said. Burn the Book. At least that way you’ll remove the temptation.”
Atrus laughed. “You think it is a temptation, then?”
“Of course it is! The young people think of nothing else…talk of nothing else. Why, they are so curious about what lies on the other side of that page that they would link at once, if you gave permission, without a moment’s thought for their safety.”
Atrus stared at her. “I didn’t realize.”
“On the other hand…”
“What?”
Catherine looked down, a strange smile on her lips. “You or I could go.”
“And take the risk?”
“Or destroy the Book.”
They stared at each other a moment longer, then, with a tiny shrug, Atrus reached across and took one of the last of their small store of blank Linking Books from the side.
“Okay,” he said, glancing up at her. “I’ll write a Linking Book. But I go, understand? No one else.”
“Yes, my love,” she answered, watching him open the slender Book then reach across for the pen. “You alone.”
§
When it was done, Atrus gathered together the small team who had been working on the project and told them the news. There were grins and cheers and then, strangely, silence, as the full implication of what Atrus had said sank in.
“But you can’t!” Irras said. “The risk’s far too great!”
“No greater than for any of you,” Atrus answered, determined not to be swayed by any argument of theirs. “I’ve made up my mind and it won’t be changed. I link through, tomorrow morning, once everything’s in place. Carrad, Irras, you’ll be responsible for the suit, all right? Catherine will run the laboratory. Marrim…you’ll assist her. Master Tamon…”
“Atrus…Irras is right. You cannot go. You’re far too important. If anything went wrong…”
“Precisely. If anything went wrong it would be on my conscience, and I cannot have that.”
Tamon shrugged, then bowed his head.
“Good,” Atrus said. “Then you, Master Tamon, have a special task. If there are…complications, you will take the Book and burn it. Understand me?”
“Atrus…”
“No arguments,” Atrus said, with a finality that silenced the old Master. But looking around the circle of friends, it was clear to him that none of them were happy with the arrangements.
“Until the morning, then.”
§
It was long after midnight when they returned. Irras led the way, a veiled lamp held up before him as they made their way along the corridor that led to the Guild cell.
Just behind Irras came Marrim and Carrad.
“I really don’t like this,” Marrim whispered, for what must have been the dozenth time.
“You want Atrus to risk himself?” Irras hissed back at her, attempting to be angry and quiet at the same time. “There’s no other way, and you know it. We must test the Age before Atrus links through.”
“But Irras…”
“Irras is right,” Carrad hissed, turning to look back at her. “We owe Atrus everything. If we were to lose him, then we ourselves would be lost.”
Marrim looked down, chastised. But she wasn’t finished yet. “It isn’t right, going behind his back like this.”
“Maybe not,” Irras conceded, “but he would never allow us otherwise. You heard him earlier. He was adamant.”
Marrim sighed. “Okay. Then I will go.”
“You can’t!” Carrad and Irras said as one.
“Why not? I’d be missed less than you two.”
“Nonsense,” Irras said. “I’d miss you dreadfully.”
“And I,” Carrad said. “But that’s beside the point. Irras is going.”
Irras turned, wide-eyed, to face him. “What?”
“You heard,” Carrad said. “Or have you learned how to operate the suit since last we used it?”
“No, I…”
“Then it’s decided. Unless you don’t want to go.”
“I’m not afraid, if that’s what you mean.”
“Then it’s decided,” Carrad said, and, turning back, headed swiftly along the corridor, leaving the other two to catch up as best they could.
§
“Are all the sampling capsules fitted, Catherine?”
“They’re all in place. And there’s extra oxygen in the cylinder on your back. Just in case.”
Atrus’s eyes followed Catherine as she busied herself at the laboratory bench. Sensing he was watching her, she looked up. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” he answered. “Are you ready?”
She nodded, her face showing no emotion; as if this were a purely routine matter.
Carrad looked to Catherine, as if about to say something, but Irras frowned at him. “Come on, Carrad. Help me with the helmet now.”
And then all was ready. Slowly, like some great mechanical thing, Atrus stepped into the cage, his back to the inner cell. The door clunked shut behind him, the seals came down. Slowly the cage revolved.
“Good luck!” Catherine called.
With a clunk the bolts slid back again and Atrus stepped out, into the inner cell.
Slowly he turned until he faced them again, then, raising his right glove, he brought it down on the back of his left.
The suit shimmered and then vanished.
Marrim looked across at Catherine, seeing the tension in her, the momentary fear in her eyes, and looked down.
Two seconds later the suit was back.
At once they were swarming about it, reaching through the bars to pluck the sampling capsules from their niches, even as the decontamination unit lowered itself over the suit, spraying Atrus with a fine mist of chemicals.
“Well?” Master Tamon asked. “What did you see?”
Atrus laughed. “Rock…I was surrounded by rock.”
Marrim, looking to Irras, gave the faintest smile.
“Rock?” Master Tamon queried, surprised to find Atrus so excited about mere rock.
“Yes, and there’s another doorway,” Atrus went on excitedly, “like this one, but it, too, is sealed. And there’s a Book…almost identical to the one we found! In the same ancient script!”
“A Book!” Master Tamon looked about him, seeing the sudden excitement in every eye.
“Yes,” Atrus said. “And if my guess is right it links back here. But come, let’s get on with it. Irras, set the timer for five minutes. I want a much better look this time.”
§
There was barely room in the alcove to turn, let alone set up the portable drilling machinery, but somehow it was done. Irras, his movements clumsy in the suit, made the first test bore, alone in that distant Age, sensors on the special suit ready to activate his return should there be any sudden change in atmospheric pressure or temperature.
Slowly the drill ate through the rock, then, suddenly, it was through, the bit meeting no further resistance.
Irras drew back; then, sealing the hole, he activated the sampler. As the tiny glass bubble moved back through the center of the driller shaft, he felt the urge to take the scope, which was in the room with him, and peer through into the space beyond. But he had his orders. They would test the sample first. Then, and only then, would they take a look.
Slotting the sample capsule into the clip on his breast pocket, Irras pressed one hand against the stud in the palm of the other and linked back.
At once Catherine stepped up and, unclipping the capsule, turned and took it back down the steps to her workbench.
Irras looked about him. For once no one spoke.
This was the worst of it—having to wait about in the suit while the tests were made. It was not that it was uncomfortable—at most there was the feeling of cushioned constraint—but at such times Irras found himself questioning Atrus’s little-by-little approach and wishing he’d take a risk now and then.
Atrus came across now and smiled at him. “Did the drill bit penetrate very far, Irras?”
“A hand’s breadth,” he answered.
“Good.” Atrus turned, looking down toward where Catherine was busy at the centrifuge. “Well…we’ll know very soon now.”
“Atrus?”
“Yes?”
“Have you thought any more about why it might have been sealed?”
Atrus hesitated, then shook his head.
“And Master Tergahn’s view?”
All were listening now. Last night Master Tergahn had reiterated his opinion that they should leave well be, that they should burn the Linking Book and reseal the chambers.
Atrus shrugged. “I only wish we knew more about the Great King. I have a vague recollection that my grandmother, Anna, once mentioned something about it, but what it was I can’t recall.”
For a moment he stared away into the shadows at the far end of the chamber, as if lost in thought, then he returned and, smiling, went down the steps again to stand beside Catherine at the workbench.
“Well?” he asked.
She glanced at him, then continued with her work. “I’ll need to do more tests.”
“Stale air?”
“Quite the contrary,” she answered. “If my results are right, the air in there is fresh. And there are living organisms in it. Pollen, too.”
“Pollen?”
Catherine nodded. “Yes. Now let me get on with things, Atrus. As soon as I know something more…”
“…you’ll let me know. But there’s definitely air? Fresh air?”
“Yes!” she said. “Now leave me to get on.”
Atrus turned, then hastened up the stairs, gesturing to Irras as he went.
“Okay. Let’s get you back inside. Let’s see what’s behind that wall.”
§
It took them days to cut a big enough hole in the wall, the task made more difficult by the fact that they could not use the portable power tools within the alcove, and that the two men, standing side by side, had little room to maneuver. They had spent the best part of an hour laboring beneath the light of a single lamp, careful not to nudge each other as, using hammer and chisel, they chipped out the channels in the rock. But now the job was done. Three metal hooks had been screwed into the partially cut section of the wall, and a link of chain threaded through them. Irras now held the end of that chain, the powerful hydraulics of the special gloves he was wearing maintaining a tight grip as Atrus swung the great hammer.
The section of wall gave with a great crunch, the weight of the stone making it slew to one side, but the chain restrained it, keeping it from falling.
“Are you all right?” Atrus asked.
“I’m fine,” Irras said, straining to keep the thing from sliding away from him.
“Good. Then lower it slowly. I’ll shine the lamp through.”
Atrus reached up and unclipped the lamp, then poked it through the gap.
There was an eerie silence. The only sound was that of their own breathing. That and the grating of the stone, the click-click-click of the chain links against the edge of the wall as Irras lowered the section to the ground.
“Good,” Atrus said, as the huge piece of rock came to rest against the floor. “I’ll step through and secure it.”
Personally, Irras would just have kicked the thing in, but Atrus was keen to do as little damage as he could. We are explorers, he’d said, not vandals.
Even so…
He heard Atrus’s gasp, sensed as much as saw him turn and raise the lamp high.
“Atrus?”
The lamp swung back. In its sudden brightness he could see a huge chamber, not unlike the chamber back in D’ni, with row after row of broad, stone shelves climbing the walls above the pillars.
Another library.
Only all of these shelves were empty.
Irras stepped out into the chamber and stood beside Atrus, taking in the sight. Somehow those empty shelves made it seem even more desolate than it otherwise might have been. And there was dust everywhere—huge drifts of dust, like sand, covering the marbled floor, in all but one or two places.
There was a sense of great age. Of long centuries of neglect.
Atrus gestured toward the far end of the chamber. “Let’s see what’s down there.”
They walked across, their footsteps muffled, small clouds of dust lifting, the
n floating like smoke upon the air.
Atrus stopped. There was a huge doorway before them. Like those in D’ni, it had a massive circle of stone surrounding it, its pale surface decorated with a ring of stars, but unlike those in D’ni, this one seemed to be ajar.
Atrus walked toward it, then mounted the steps.
It was ajar.
He set down the lamp, then stepped closer, peering through the crack, unwilling to shine a light through that narrow space until he knew what was on the other side.
It was dark, yet not as dark as the chamber in which he stood, and after a moment his eyes grew accustomed to the half-light within.
Another chamber, larger, grander than the library, but in ruin, a number of its mighty pillars fallen, its great arched ceiling cracked in places, revealing a cloud-strewn night of brilliant stars.
And now Irras came and stood beside him, squinting into the darkness.
“Ruins,” he said quietly, unable to keep the disappointment from his voice.
But Atrus made no comment, only: “Come, let’s fetch the others. It’s time we explored this Age.”
PART FOUR
TORN PAGES CURL AND BROWN.
THE FLAMES FLY UP.
IN THE FLICKERING LIGHT A CRY.
WHO WILL LIFT THE FALLEN STONES.
WHO WILL LINK THE BROKEN CHAIN?
--FROM THE KOROKH JIMAH
VV. 11383-86
Atrus turned to look as, one by one, his party linked through into the alcove, then stepped out into the chamber.
They had brought with them lamps and provisions, and as Oma, the last of them, stepped through, that ancient place seemed ablaze with the brilliant light of the fire-marbles.
Concerned that they might reveal themselves to hostile eyes, Atrus had them extinguish all but one of the lamps. Then, and only then, did he lead them across to the door at the far end of the chamber.
The Myst Reader Page 72
