The Myst Reader (114 page)

Twenty, thirty times Tergahn sent a signal into the rock. Then, finally, he sat back, nodding to himself.

“I’ll need to make more soundings … a lot more … but …” Tergahn swiveled round on the seat. “There is definitely a hollow behind that wall. A void of some kind. But how big it is is much harder to tell. My ear was never trained to make distinctions of that kind.”

Atrus nodded. “We should discuss things and hear all sides before we choose to act. If it’s sealed, there might be a good reason
why.
”

“Wise words,” Tergahn said. “If the D’ni chose to seal that chamber and erase all mention of it from their history, then perhaps they had a reason for doing so.”

“I agree,” Atrus said. “We should discover if anything more is known of the Great King and of the events surrounding the sealing of his Temple. Maybe one or another of our company heard some tale at their mother’s knee that might add to the sum of our knowledge, scant as it is. Until then, we should do nothing rash.

“I shall call a meeting,” Atrus went on. “Tonight. In the meantime, Master Tergahn, if you would continue with your soundings?”

Tergahn nodded, no flicker of emotion in his deeply lined face. “I shall be guessing at best.”

“Then guess your best guess. And if there is anything else you need, give instructions to young Irras here. He can be your legs.”

Tergahn nodded tersely, then turned back, returning to his task.

Atrus watched him a moment, then turned away. “Come,” he said to Catherine, as he began to make his way down the steps. “We have a meeting to arrange.”

“SO,” ATRUS BEGAN, ADDRESSING THE SMALL
group gathered in his room that evening after the meeting, “it all comes down to hearsay.”

“And what is written in your father’s notebook,” Catherine added.

“Yes,” Atrus said. “And that is little enough.” He paused, then: “Even so, I think we might take a look and see what’s on the other side. But caution must be our byword. Once Master Tergahn has completed his soundings, we shall make a sample drilling and push a scope through and see what’s to be seen.”

“And then?” Carrad asked.

Atrus smiled. “And then, if all is well, we shall breach the seal and go inside.”

BACK AT THE DOORWAY, MASTER TERGAHN HAD
finished his soundings. As Atrus returned, he was sitting on the bottom step, papers scattered about him, hunched forward over a chart, writing.

Atrus stopped several paces from him. “Master Tergahn?”

The old man looked up, then gestured for Atrus to join him. “See,” he said, indicating the diagram he had been working on. “It seems to go back quite some way, but it’s not very wide. No wider, it would seem, than the circle itself.”

Atrus studied the diagram a moment, then looked up at the circle of stone that surrounded the doorway. “A tunnel, you think?”

“It might be.”

Atrus turned. “Irras … help Master Tamon bring a drill from the Guild House. One of the small-bore machines with a sealed end. The kind we can take an air sample from. And a scope. It’s time we saw what’s behind there.”

It took them more than an hour to set up the drill, the heavy frame in which it rested placed low down and at the center of the door. Then, with Master Tamon supervising and Atrus looking on, they began, the drill bit, encased as it was within the transparent sealing sheath, nudging the stone surface, then biting deep, the whine of the drill filling that brightly lit space beneath the old Guild Hall.

Slowly, slowly, it ate into the toughened rock. Then, with a marked change of tone—a downward whine—it was through.

Tamon signaled for the power to be cut, then stepped across to examine their handiwork. He hunched over it a moment, then turned to Atrus and nodded.

Slowly and very carefully they removed the bit, an airtight seal inside the sheath clicking shut behind it. As it did, Catherine, wearing special gloves, removed the bit and hurried down the steps to where a temporary laboratory had been set up. Immediately, Carrad and three others came across and lifted away the heavy frame that held the drill, carrying it down to the foot of the steps.

They waited twenty minutes while Catherine analyzed the air sample from the tiny capsule in the bit. Satisfied, she nodded to Atrus. “Just air. Stale air.”

“Okay,” Atrus said, turning to Irras, who stood nearby, the scope—a long, curiously “furred” shaft with a lens at each end and a small bullet-shaped extrusion at its tip—held against his chest, “let’s see what we have here.”

Irras stepped across and very carefully inserted the rod into the end of the sheath, the special seal within the sheath opening before the scope’s tip, the continuous circles of fine hairs on the scope’s surface, which gave it its “furred” look, maintaining an airtight seal even as the rod slid into position.

As the end of the scope clicked into place—a finger’s length of the shaft protruding from the surface of the sheath—Irras turned to Atrus. “Atrus? Will you be first to look?”

Atrus nodded, then came across and, crouching, put his eye to the lens. There was a small catch on the side of the shaft where it protruded. Atrus now placed his thumb against it and drew it back.

There was a muffled pop and the surface of the lens, which had been dark until that moment, now glistened with light; light that was reflected in the pupil of Atrus’s eye.

The muscles about Atrus’s eye puckered. He drew back the tiniest fraction. And then he nodded.

“It’s not a tunnel, it’s another hallway. Smaller. Narrower, too, with pillars set into the sidewalls.”

“Can you see the far end?” Catherine asked, stepping up alongside him.

“Just,” he said. “It’s almost in shadow. There might be steps there—it’s hard to make out …”

“And a doorway? Is there another doorway?”

Atrus shrugged, then moved back, straightening up again. “I don’t know. As I said, I couldn’t make it out. Here, Marrim … your eyes are better than mine, you look!”

Marrim hurried across, then crouched, her eye pressed to the lens. For a time she was still and silent, then she moved back.

“I think so,” she said. Then, “But there has to be, surely? I mean … why build all this if there’s nothing on the other side?”

Oma was about to comment, but Atrus quickly interceded. “Let us waste no more breath speculating. Master Tamon, bring up the cutting equipment. Let’s breach the seal. I want to see what’s at the far end of that chamber.”

AFTER A LONG DAY’S WORK THE HUGE CUTTING
frame was maneuvered into position before the doorway, four massive bolts securing it to the walls on either side. Then, taking the utmost care, the seal was breached, six of the D’ni using handheld cutters, the ancient door prised from the stone in which it had been set. Then, and only then, was it removed, the stone sighing as it gave, a huge gust of stale air wafting out into that space beneath the rock.

The massive slab of stone was lifted on four huge pulleys and lowered—the thick hawsers straining at the weight—onto the floor of the hall. Then, and only then, when it was safely down, did Atrus turn and contemplate the inner chamber.

The fire-marble they had fired into the chamber still glowed, but shadows gathered at the edges of vision. The far end of the chamber was dark, the doorway—if door it was—hidden from view.

A dozen or more pillars ranged along each side of that narrow chamber, set back into the walls, their marbled surfaces covered with strange markings. Stepping out between them, Atrus raised the lamp, then walked over to one of the pillars. He stood there a moment, staring up at it, then turned.

“Oma … come here.”

Oma hastened across.

“What do you make of these?”

Oma stood there a while, studying the carvings. They looked like the signs and symbols of some ancient language.

“I … don’t know.”

“Esel?”

Esel shook his head. “I’ve never seen their like.”

“No,” Catherine agreed, “and yet they look familiar.”

“Familiar?” Atrus turned to her. “You think you’ve seen these somewhere before?”

“Yes … but I can’t think where.”

Atrus turned back, then, stopping across, reached up and put his fingers into the groove of one of the more complex characters. The cuts were deep and smooth, each edge and surface finely polished. As for the symbol itself, it had the definite, finished shape of a letter in an alphabet yet at the same time it also suggested a picture.

Atrus stepped back, lifting the lantern, trying to see if there were any other markings farther up the pillar, but what the lamp revealed was not more markings but Books, thousands upon thousands of Books, on shelves recessed into the walls high up and back from the pillars.

No wonder they hadn’t seen them at first.

Oma gave a cry of pure delight, while Esel turned, looking to Carrad, his long, frowning face filled with a sudden urgency. “Carrad … Irras … bring ladders. Quickly now!”

They were back within a minute, Irras scrambling up onto the ledge, then hurrying down again, one of the ancient, leather-bound Books clutched to his chest.

As Oma carefully opened the page, they gathered round.

“Look!” Esel said. “It’s the same script as on the pillars.”

“It looks very much like it,” Oma agreed. “And the panel …”

“Do not touch it,” Atrus said quietly. “There is no Guild of Maintainers seal. And who knows how old these Ages are, or if they are stable or otherwise.”

Atrus stared at the page, unable to decipher that ancient script, yet there was something about it that was familiar. Looking up, he raised his lantern once again, astonished by the sight. If they were all like this …

He walked on, slowly, the lamp held up before him, the darkness receding before him. Wall after wall of Books met his gaze, until he felt quite overwhelmed by it all. Then, lowering his eyes, he turned away … and stopped dead.

Just ahead of him, through a low arch flanked by pillars, was an anteroom. He stepped through, into a small chamber with four tiny alcoves leading off. The floor was marble, the low ceiling a concave circle of mosaic. His lamp blazed in that tiny space, and as he looked about him, Atrus realized that in each alcove the character that had appeared on the very first pillar was repeated.

And at the very center of the door, the character that had appeared on the very first pillar was repeated.

Atrus stared a moment, then turned, looking back toward where the others were still huddled about the ancient Book.

“Irras! Bring Master Tergahn! Now! Tell him we have need of his services once more!”