The Myst Reader (122 page)

Almost at once the conversation started up again, Ro’Jethhe himself taking the lead, returning to a subject they had been discussing earlier. No mention was made of the performer’s error, nor of D’ni.

They ate, and drank, and later, in a momentary pause in their talk, the governor spoke directly to Atrus once again.

“I am told by friend Ro’Jethhe that some of you wear special glasses in the daylight. May I ask why this is?”

“Of course,” Atrus said. “It is a hereditary aspect of our race. Our eyes are sensitive. The daylight hurts them. And so we wear these lenses.” And with that Atrus took his own lenses from his jacket pocket and, walking across to the governor’s couch, handed them to Horen Ro’Jadre.

The governor studied them a while, fiddling with the silver catch at the side of the lenses, then peered through them, fascinated, it seemed, by the details of their manufacture. Then, smiling pleasantly, he handed them back.

“You will come stay with me, I hope, Atrus. On your way to the capital. It is on your route and I should welcome the chance to talk with you some more.”

“That is …”

“… most kind, I know.” Ro’Jadre laughed. “Oh, kindness has nothing to do with it, my friend. I am curious to know more about you and your fellows.”

“Then we shall be glad to stay. Oh, and governor?”

“Yes, Atrus?”

“Might I send back a messenger, to my own people, to let them know what has transpired.”

“Your people …” The governor blinked. “Of course … yes, of course. You must do so at once. To let them know you are well.”

Atrus bowed. “That is …”

“… most kind.”

And this time both men laughed; their laughter joined by all, guests and locals alike.

“Well,” Ro’Jadre said, looking about him, his face filled with pleasure, “let us continue with the rest of our entertainment. Jethhe Ro’Jethhe, will you begin?”

Their host bowed his head slightly, acknowledging the invitation, then, after a moment’s thought, spoke softly but clearly into the sudden, expectant silence:

“Old, but newly found. Hidden, yet in full sight. A newly hatched egg with an old cracked shell …”

And Marrim, looking about her, found herself amazed once more.
Riddles
, she thought.
They’re playing riddles!

THE JOURNEY BACK WAS MERRY. THEY HAD
drunk far too much—even the normally sober Atrus—and enjoyed themselves far more than any of them had anticipated.

“That was just
so
clever,” Oma said, leaning heavily against his friend Esel. “That one about the bird and the lock with the silver pick. How they think them up I’ll never know!”

He grinned and looked about him, then, seeing Hadre at the prow, put his hand to his mouth, acknowledging his gaffe, but the young man seemed not to mind.

“We play riddles from our earliest days,” Hadre said. “As I said before, we love the things of the mind. Mental games and memory tests—we delight in all such challenges. They keep one sharp and alert.”

“Then you are to be applauded for it,” Oma said, making a pretend toast in the air. “For myself, I would surely die of indolence, living as you do.”

“I am sure that is not so,” Hadre said, sounding more sober than any of them. “I saw you at the library, Oma. I saw how you drank in the sight of all those books. If you want, you can take one or two of them to read on the journey to the capital.”

Oma, overwhelmed by the offer, stood and bowed at the waist, bringing ripples of laughter from the others, but Hadre merely returned the bow.

“You are …”

“
…
most welcome!”
the five youngsters answered as one, then laughed; a laughter that Hadre joined in with after a moment. A laughter that filled the warm night air as the boat glided slowly, silently beneath the waning moon, toward the distant, shimmering whiteness of Ro’Jethhe.

THEY MET AGAIN THE NEXT MORNING, IN THE
great book-lined study belonging to Ro’Jethhe. The governor was to leave within the hour and had asked to see Atrus again before he departed.

“Forgive me for summoning you so early,” Horen Ro’Jadre said, coming across to take Atrus’s hands as he entered the room, “but I wished to speak with you informally before this evening.”

Atrus smiled. “Then speak. I am listening.”

Ro’Jadre nodded, then, releasing Atrus’s hands, said, “I enjoyed your company greatly last night, Atrus, and I know you will make a great impression at court, but I felt I should warn you of one thing.”

“Warn me? Of what?”

“Of saying too much of who and what you are. Of D’ni and the like.”

Atrus narrowed his eyes. “Why so?”

“Because it is not our place to ask such things of you. You understand?”

“I’m afraid I do not. You
are
governor here, are you not?”

“Governor, yes, but not king.”

“And it is for the king alone to ask such questions?”

Horen Ro’Jadre beamed. “There. I told Ro’Jethhe you would understand.”

“But …” Atrus fell silent, then. “It is your way, I take it?”

“Exactly. The moment the king agreed to see you, it was decided. It would be wrong for any one of us to know more than he.”

“I see.”

“Then we shall meet again this evening. Until then …”

He stepped forward, embracing Atrus briefly, then was gone.

Atrus stared after him a moment, then turned back, looking to Ro’Jethhe, as if for explanation, but all the elder said was, “The king has agreed to see you, Atrus. It is an immense honor.”

“Yes,” Atrus said. Then, understanding that Ro’Jethhe wished him nothing but good, he smiled. “I shall not forget your kindness, Jethhe Ro’Jethhe.”

The old man beamed. “Look after my son, Atrus. And return here when you can. And remember, my door is always open to you, so long as you are in Terahnee.”

“INTERESTING,” CATHERINE SAID LATER, WHEN
he told her about the meeting with the governor.

“All peoples have their customs,” Atrus said, buckling the strap on his knapsack. “Now … where has young Irras got to?”

“I’m here, Master Atrus,” Irras said, coming into the room.

“You know what you have to say to Master Tamon?”

Irras nodded. “I have it by heart.”

“Then go at once. And return here once the message has been delivered. Jethhe Ro’Jethhe will not mind if you stay until we return from the capital.”

Irras bowed his head, then, with a curt, “Take care,” he turned on his heel and vanished.

Atrus looked to Catherine, a query in his eyes.

“I think, perhaps, he’s disappointed about not coming to the capital with us,” she said.

“But that decision was not in my hands.”

“It makes it no easier for him, Atrus. Irras was excited at the thought of seeing the great city, and now he must be content to be a runner between here and the plateau. It must have been a great blow to him.”

“And yet he says nothing.”

Catherine smiled. “So you have taught them Atrus.”

Atrus frowned. “Yes, but we ought to make it up to him. I could ask the king if Irras could come on after us.”

“You’ll ask the king?”

“Of course,” Atrus said, unaware of the smile on Catherine’s lips. But she did not pursue the matter.

“Are you ready?” Atrus asked, looking about him, checking for the last time that he had everything he wished to take with him.

“Ready,” she said.

“Good. Then let us go down and meet with Eedrah. It is time we got under way.”

THE YOUNGSTERS HAD PACKED ALREADY AND
, while Atrus and Catherine went to see Ro’Jethhe and the governor, they decided to explore the grounds.

A narrow, elegant footbridge led over the stream by which they had entered the house, opening out onto a path of colored stone that meandered across a neatly swept lawn to disappear among the rocks of a grotto.

They followed the path, through the rocks and up, emerging on the far side on a ledge overlooking a series of long, barnlike buildings with low, red-tiled roofs.

Several of the cloaked servants were down there, talking among themselves, but noticing the young people up on the ledge, they fell silent and dispersed, one of them heading directly toward them.

He stopped at the foot of the steps that led down from the ledge. “Can I help you, Masters?”

“Thank you, but no,” Carrad said. “We shall be leaving soon, and we merely wished to look around before we left.”

The man bowed. “Then let me be your guide. I am Tyluu.”

“And what do you do, Tyluu?” Esel asked, beginning to descend the steps.

The man kept his head bowed the slightest fraction as he answered. “I coordinate the harvest.” He paused. “Would you like to see the grain stores?”

They went down and, with Tyluu as their guide, walked through the great storehouses, impressed by what they saw—especially the two young Averonese, who, coming from a farming world themselves, appreciated just how much work must have gone into this. The great barns themselves were deceptive, for they went down into the earth some way. They had glimpses of great stone stairways that snaked down into the depths, and Tyluu explained that much, apart from grain, was stored in the lower levels.

They walked on, out into great pens where herds of strangely docile beasts milled quietly, their moist dark eyes following the four young guests as they passed by.

All was neat and orderly. Not a fence was broken, not a farming implement out of place. Oma commented on this, and Tyluu bowed, as if some great compliment had been made, and answered, “It is our way.”

Here and there, Marrim noticed, there were what looked like wells. Deep, square holes in the ground with borders of finished stone. She glanced down one as she passed and thought she saw some small animal scuttle by beneath.

And then it was time to return. Oma thanked Tyluu, but Tyluu merely bowed and backed away, merging with the shadows.

Carrad frowned.

“It is their way,” Marrim said, grinning at him. Then, “Come on, let’s get back.”