The Myst Reader (43 page)

There were thirty-six of them in all, none older than thirty—all of them graduates of the Academy; young guildsmen who had volunteered for this expedition. Some had given up and been replaced along the way, but more than two-thirds of the original crews remained.

Two years, four months
, Aitrus thought as he sat on the edge of his bedroll and began to pull off his boots. It was a long time to be away from home. He could have gone home, of course—Master Telanis would have given him leave if he had asked—but that would have seemed like cheating, somehow. No, an expedition was not really an expedition if one could go home whenever one wished.

Even as he kicked his other boot off, he felt the sudden telltale vibration in the platform, followed an instant or two later by a low, almost inaudible rumble. A Messenger was coming!

The expedition had cut its way through several miles of rock, up from one of the smaller, outermost caverns of D’ni. They could, of course, have gone up vertically, like a mine shaft, but so direct a route into D’ni was thought not merely inadvisable but dangerous. The preferred scheme—the scheme the Council had eventually agreed upon—was a far more indirect route, cut at a maximum of 3825
torans
—22.032 degrees—from the horizontal. One that could be walked.

One that could also be sealed off with gates and defended.

The rumbling grew, slowly but steadily. You could hear the sound of the turbine engines now.

Slowly but surely they had burrowed through the rock, surveying each one-hundred-span section carefully before they drilled, coating the surfaces with a half-span thickness of special D’ni rock, more durable than marble. Last, but not least, they fitted heavy stone brackets into the ceiling of each section—brackets that carried air from the pumping stations back in D’ni.

Between each straight-line section was one of these spherical “nodes”—these resting places where they could carry on experiments while Master Geran and his assistants charted the next stage of their journey through the earth—each node fitted with an airtight gate that could be sealed in an instant.

The rumbling grew to a roar. For a moment the sound of it filled the node, then the engines cut out and there was the downward whine of the turbines as the Messenger slowed.

Aitrus turned and stood, watching as the metal snout of the machine emerged from the entry tunnel, passing through the thick collar of the node-gate, its pilot clearly visible through the transparent front debris shield.

It was a large, tracked vehicle, its three long segments making it seem clumsy in comparison to the sleek excavators, but as ever Aitrus was glad to see it, for besides bringing them much-needed supplies—it being impossible to “link” supplies direct from D’ni into the tunnels—it also brought letters from home.

“Aitrus? What time is it?”

Aitrus turned. His friend Jenir had woken and was sitting up.

“Ninth bell,” he answered, bending down to retrieve his boots and pull them on again.

Others had also been woken by the Messenger’s arrival, and were sitting up or climbing from their beds, knowing there was unloading to be done.

He himself had been temporarily excused from such duties; even so, as the others drifted across to the ladders and began to ascend, he followed, curious to see if anything had come for him.

When the last Messenger had come, three days back, it had brought nothing but the Observers—those unexpected “guests” billeted upon them by the Council. Before that it had been almost three weeks since they had had contact with D’ni. Three solid weeks without news.

The Messenger had come to rest between the two excavators. Already its four-man crew were busy, running pipelines between the middle segment of their craft and the two much larger vehicles, ready to transfer its load of mechanical parts, equipment, drill bits, fuel, and cooling fluid to the excavators.

Aitrus yawned, then walked across. The young men of the Messengers Guild were of nature outward, friendly types, and seeing him, one of them hailed him.

“Ho! Aitrus! There’s a parcel for you!”

“A parcel?”

The Messenger gestured toward where one of his colleagues was carrying a large mesh basket into the forward cabin of the left-hand excavator.

Aitrus turned and looked, then hurried after, almost running into Master Telanis coming out.

“Aitrus! Why such a hurry?”

“Forgive me, Guild Master. I was told there was a parcel for me.”

“Ah,” Telanis made to walk on, then stopped, lowering his voice. “By the way, how was our guest?”

Tiring
, he wanted to answer. “Curious,” he said after a moment, keeping his own voice low. “Oh, and imaginative.”

Telanis frowned. “How so?”

“It would seem we are too cautious for him, Guild Master. Our methods are, well …
inefficient
.”

Telanis considered that, then nodded. “We must talk, Aitrus. Tomorrow. Early, perhaps, before Master Kedri has need of you. There are things you need to know.”

Aitrus bowed. “I shall call on you at third bell, Master.”

“Good. Now go and see what the Messengers have brought.”

Master Tejara of the Messengers had commandeered the table in the chart room to sort out the post. Surrounded by shelves of bound surveys, he looked up from his work as Aitrus entered.

“Ah, Aitrus. And how are you today?”

“I am well, Guild Master.”

Tejara flashed a smile at him. “You’ve heard, then?”

“Master?” But Aitrus’s eyes had already gone to the large, square parcel—bound in cloth and stitched—that rested to one side of the table.

“Here,” Master Tejara said, handing it to him.

Aitrus took it, surprised by how heavy it seemed. Unable to help himself, he held it to his ear and shook it gently.

There was a gentle chime.

“Well?” Tejara said, grinning at him now. “Are you going to open it or not?”

Aitrus hesitated a moment, then set the parcel down on the table and, taking a slender chisel from his tool belt, slit open the stitching. The cloth fell back.

Inside was a tiny wooden case, the top surface of which was a sliding panel. He slid it back and looked inside.

“By the Maker!”

Aitrus reached in and drew out the delicate, golden pair of portable scales. They were perfect, the spring mechanism of the finest make, the soft metal inlaid with tiny silver D’ni numerals. Nor were they the only thing. Setting the scales down carefully, he reached in once more and took out a flat, square rosewood box the size of his palm. Opening it, Aitrus stared openmouthed at the exposed pair of D’ni geological compasses, his fingertips gently brushing the tiny crystal magnifier that enabled one to read the tiny calibrations. For a moment he simply looked, studying the minute transparent dials and delicate adjustable attachments that overlay the simple circle of its working face, then shook his head in wonder.

“Is it your Naming Day, Aitrus?” Tejara asked.

“No,” Aitrus said distractedly as he reached in a third time to lift out an envelope marked simply “Guildsman Aitrus” in an unfamiliar hand.

He frowned, then looked to Tejara, who simply shrugged. Slitting the envelope open, he took out the single sheet and unfolded it.

“Aitrus,”
it began,

Aitrus looked up, astonished to see
that
signature at the foot of the note.

“It is from Veovis,” he said quietly. “Lord Rakeri’s son.”

Tejara looked surprised. “Veovis is your friend, Aitrus?”

Aitrus shook his head. “No. At least, he was no friend to me at school.”

“Then these gifts are a surprise?”

“More a shock, to be honest, Guild Master. Yet people change, I suppose.”

Tejara nodded emphatically. “You can be certain of it, Aitrus. Time teaches many things. It is the rock in which we bore.”

Aitrus smiled at the old saying.

“Oh, and before I forget,” Tejara added, handing him his mail, “there are three letters for you this time.”

AITRUS LAY THERE A LONG TIME, UNABLE TO
sleep, staring at the pattern of shadows on the smooth, curved wall of the node, wondering what the gifts meant.

His letters had contained the usual, cheerful news from home—chatter about old friends from his mother, word of Council matters from his father. But his mind kept going back to the note.

That Veovis had written at all was amazing, that he had sent gifts was … well, astonishing!

And not just any gifts, but just those things that he most needed in his work.

Oh, there were plenty of scales and compasses he could use—property of the guild—but not his own. Nor were the guild’s instruments anything as fine as those Veovis had given him. Why, they were as good as those that hung from Master Telanis’s own tool belt!

When finally he did manage to sleep, it was to find himself dreaming of his school days, his mind, for some strange yet obvious reason, going back to a day in his thirteenth year when, tired of turning his back on Veovis’s constant taunts, he had turned and fought him.

He woke to find Master Telanis shaking him.

“Come, Aitrus. Third bell has sounded. We need to talk.”

THE CABIN DOOR WAS LOCKED. MASTER TELANIS
sat behind his desk, looking up at Aitrus.

“Well, Aitrus, how did you fare with Master Kedri?”

Aitrus hesitated, not sure how much to say. The truth was he did not like the task he had been given. It made him feel
uncomfortable
.

Telanis coaxed him gently. “You said he felt our methods were inefficient.”

“Oh, indeed, Guild Master. He constantly commented upon how slow our methods are. How overcautious.”

“And do you agree with him, Aitrus? Do you think, perhaps, that we
are
too pedantic in our ways?”

“Not at all, Guild Master. There is, after all, no hurry. Whether we reach the surface this year or next does not matter. Safety must be our first concern.”

Telanis stared at him a moment, then nodded. “Good. Now let me tell you a few things, Aitrus. First, I am aware that this task is not really to your liking.”

Aitrus made to object, but Telanis raised a hand. “Make no mistake, Aitrus. I realize you are not at ease looking after Master Kedri, but I chose you for a reason. The good Master seeks to sound us out on certain topics—to
survey
our attitudes, if you like.”

Aitrus looked horrified at the thought. “Should I watch what I say, Master?”

“Not at all, Aitrus. I have no fear that you will say anything that might upset Master Kedri. That is why I chose you. You are like basalt, Aitrus, solid through and through. But it would help me if, at the end of each day, you would note down those areas in which Master Kedri seemed most interested.”

Aitrus hesitated. “Might I ask why, Master?”

“You may. But you must keep my answer strictly to yourself.” Telanis paused, steepling his fingers before his chin. “There is to be a meeting of the Council, a month from now. It seems that some of the older members have had a change of heart. They have thought long and hard about whether we should make contact with the surface dwellers or not, and a few of them now feel it might not be quite so good an idea as it first seemed. Indeed, they might even ask us to abandon the expedition.”

Unable to help himself, Aitrus slammed his fist down on the desk. “But they
can’t!
”

Master Telanis smiled tolerantly. “If that is their final word, then so be it. We must do what they say. We cannot argue with the Council.”