The Myst Reader (14 page)

“And your experiments? Were we in time?”

Gehn turned away, as if he hadn’t heard, then walked across the room, drawing back the heavy curtains to reveal, through a massive, latticed window, the orange glow of the cavern beyond. There was a broad stone balcony and a view of the distant city.

“I shall leave you now,” Gehn said, setting the lantern down on the table beside the bed. “But try not to be too long, Atrus. There are things we need to talk about.”

Atrus waited for his father to leave the room, then sat up, sliding his legs around and examining his feet in the lamp’s light. Where the sores were worst, on his heels and ankles and on the balls of his feet, Gehn had smeared them with an ointment that left a dark stain on the skin. Atrus touched one of the patches gingerly, then sniffed his fingers. It was the same as the ointment his grandmother had always used whenever he’d grazed his knees or shins or elbows on the rock.

Atrus?

Yes, Grandmother?

What do you see, Atrus?

I see the D’ni city, Grandmother. I see …

Atrus stepped out onto the balcony, looking at it, trying to fix it in his memory so that he could tell her when he saw her again.

Far out there was a moving shadow on the water. He narrowed his eyes, watching it a while, then shrugged and looked beyond it at the city once again.
Yes
, he thought.
I see the most incredible sight I’ve ever seen
.

“AH, ATRUS … COME AND SIT WITH ME.”

Atrus hesitated in the doorway, then stepped inside, into the clear blue light of the kitchen. His father sat at a table to his left, a plate of food set before him.

It was a big V-shaped room with two large windows overlooking a stone-paved terrace garden that jutted out over the orange sea. The light outside seemed much darker now, and to compensate, Gehn had placed several lanterns in niches about the room.

Looking about him, Atrus noticed that the kitchen was solid stone. The cupboards, the table, the benches, even the sink and oven, were made of a strange, smooth banded gneiss that, like the path they had followed into D’ni, seemed to have been softened and then molded like clay. Tiny strips of metal, intricately fashioned, were threaded into the black-and-white-striped stone in a manner Atrus found hard to fathom. Though it was stone, it had a light warm feel that was unexpected. How they had managed it was a mystery to him, yet it was clear that the D’ni had developed processes well advanced of the ways of men.

“How do you feel now?” Gehn asked, gesturing for him to take a seat across from him.

How
did
he feel? Homesick, but also, now that his waking mood had passed, immensely curious. What did his father want of him? Gehn had said something to Anna about teaching him. But teaching him what?

“Hungry,” he answered finally, finding it safest.

“Good,” Gehn said. Turning, he picked up a small handbell from the table beside him and rang it.

At once a figure filled the far doorway, looming briefly in the shadows before it entered the room.

“Atrus, this is Rijus, my serving man.”

The man who stood there, holding a large, shallow basket piled high with fruit, was tall, taller even than Gehn, and had a great domed head that seemed to be made of polished ivory. He wore a baggy dark blue one-piece, tied at the waist with a length of similarly colored cord, but the most remarkable thing about him were his eyes; lidless eyes that were like blemished eggs in his otherwise undistinguished face.

Atrus looked to his father, uncertain how to behave, then, when Gehn gave him no clue, he turned back and, bowing his head slightly, said, “I’m pleased to meet you, Rijus.”

“It is no use trying to engage Rijus in conversation, Atrus. Rijus is a mute. He was born that way and he will die that way. But he understands commands well enough. If you need something, you should simply ask Rijus.”

Atrus hesitated, then gave a little nod.

“Well, boy? What are you waiting for? Are you hungry or not?”

Atrus stood and, conscious of the servant’s unnaturally staring eyes upon him, went over to him. A dozen different kinds of fruit were spread out in the basket—only a few of which he recognized, and then only from the traders’ packs. Tiny beads of moisture speckled their brightly colored surfaces, enhancing their strange but perfect forms.

He looked back at Gehn. “Did you grow these, father?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

Atrus turned back, wondering what to choose, almost afraid to touch them, they seemed so perfect. Then, reaching out, he picked one of the long, yellow, oval-shaped fruit, attracted by its strange, five-ribbed form.

It was rotten. It fell apart as he lifted it, revealing its dark brown innards. He looked to his father, surprised.

Gehn gestured to Rijus impatiently. “Take them away.” Then, turning to Atrus, he fixed him with his stare.

“Come, Atrus. I think it is time we began our task. Time you found out why I brought you here to D’ni.”

A TWIST OF STEPS LED UP TO A BROAD
, high-ceilinged corridor, the end of which opened out onto a balcony directly above the terrace. On the far side of the balcony, set into the rock face, was a massive metal door, the jet black face of which was decorated with the same elaborate patterns Atrus had glimpsed on the Inner Gate. Pausing before it, Gehn reached inside his cloak and took out a large key, fitting it into the lock and turning it twice before removing it.

He stepped back. There was a faint shudder and then the door began to rise, sliding into the rock smoothly and silently, to reveal a dark, wedge-shaped opening. Six steps led down into a spacious room, lit from above by a massive star-shaped lamp. At the very center of the room was a raised dais, surrounded by three steplike ledges. On top of that dais were five large granite pedestals. Atrus turned, looking about him, impressed by what he saw. The walls were covered with massive shelves made of thick slabs of stone, and on those shelves were hundreds, possibly thousands of leather-bound books, similar to those his grandmother had kept back on her shelf in the cleft.

Gehn turned, looking to his son. “This, as you see, is the library. This is where you will come for your lessons every day.” He gestured toward a low stone table in one corner. “That will be your desk. But before we commence, I want to show you why I brought you here, and why it is so important that you learn the ways of D’ni.”

Raising his right hand, he beckoned Atrus to him, then, as the young man came alongside him, took his elbow and lead him up the steps and onto the dais.

At the center of the dais, recessed into its bone-white marble floor, was a circular pool surrounded by five marble pedestals.

Gehn stood before him. “Choose a book. Any book on the shelves.”

“What?”

“Choose a book.”

Atrus went across to the shelves, letting his eyes travel across their richly bound spines. There was no writing on any of them. A few had symbols, but none made any sense.

He turned, looking to his father.

“
Choose
a book.”

Atrus took one down, the smell of its light green cover strangely intoxicating, exciting.

Gehn reached out, taking it from him. Opening it, he scanned it quickly, then nodded. Turning the book about, Gehn placed it reverently on the pedestal, watching Atrus all the while.

Atrus stepped closer, looking down at the open pages. The left-hand page was blank, but on the right …

He gasped, amazed by the clarity of the picture in that small, rectangular box. Why, it was like staring through a window!

A strange, rust red conical mound filled the foreground, reminding Atrus of a giant termite’s nest. Behind it was a lush backdrop of vivid, almost emerald green, with a glimpse of a cloudless sky above.

As Atrus watched, the image on the page slowly changed, seeming to tilt to the right, like an eye attempting to follow something just out of vision. The mound slowly disappeared, to be replaced in the foreground by a fast-flowing stream that tumbled between the rocks, then fell spectacularly into a crystal pool. But no sooner had it focused on that, than it lifted again, swinging out and over the surrounding gully, to reveal, beyond it, a valley filled with low, almost bushlike trees, on which could be seen a host of vividly colored fruit. There was a glimpse of a long, clear pool surrounded by grassy slopes and of distant, snowcapped mountains, and then the image returned to the rust red mound.

Gehn stepped across. “Give me your hand. You’ll live as the D’ni now. This is what you were born for.”

ATRUS FELT THE SKIN ON HIS PALM TINGLE
as though a faint electrical current had passed through it. His hand seemed drawn to the image on the page,
attracted
to it. For a moment that was all. Then, with a sudden, sickening lurch, he felt himself sucked into the page. Or rather, it was as if the page grew suddenly huge, enveloping him in the weave of its fibers. At that same instant he felt a curious shifting sensation. It felt as though he were melting, the fragile shell of him imploding, collapsing back in upon himself, and then the blackness seeped through.

And as he finally surrendered to that blackness, so he found himself back in his body, standing on the grass just in front of the mound, a fresh breeze blowing into his face, the stream below him, the waterfall and the valley just beyond.

Gone were the marble pedestals, the book-lined walls, the solid rock ceiling overhead! Atrus reached out, as if to touch them, but there was nothing.

Atrus looked up, startled by the transition. Huge white clouds drifted in a sky so blue it looked like a child’s painting. The air hummed with tiny insects, while all around him the heady scents of fruits and flowers swamped his senses.

He fell to his knees, astonished. This was magic, surely! Behind him Gehn shimmered into being.

“Get up onto your feet, boy,” Gehn said, quietly but firmly.

Atrus struggled to his feet, then turned to face his father. He was unable to believe what had just happened to him.

“Where … where
are
we?”

Gehn stepped past him, standing beside the stream, his booted feet on the edge of a steep incline, looking down at the waterfall.

As Atrus came alongside, Gehn looked to his son, his chest swelling with pride. “Once the D’ni ruled a million worlds, using what was grown in them to clothe and feed and provision themselves. So it was in the time of their greatness.” He shook his head. “But all that is passed. Now there’s only you and I, Atrus. We two, and the worlds we shall make.”

“
Make
, father?”

Gehn looked out across the land that lay beneath them and nodded, a fierce pride in his face as he spoke. “Yes, Atrus. I made this world. I made the rock on which we stand, and the very air we are breathing. I made the grass and the trees, the insects and the birds. I fashioned the flowers and the earth in which they grow. I made the mountains and the streams. All that you see, I made.”

Turning to face Atrus, Gehn placed his hands on his son’s shoulders, his eyes burning with excitement now.