The Myst Reader (66 page)

Of course it matters
, the voice inside her answered.
The weight of your words could determine the fate of empires. Besides, war of any kind is bad. Think of the suffering, Anna.

The thought of it troubled her. Ought she, perhaps, to refuse to say anything more? Or had she said too much already?

The trouble was, she knew so little about these people. Whereas she had answered every question, they had taken great care to keep as much as possible from her. As if she were a spy.

Anna let out a long, sighing breath. Was that what they thought? That she had come to spy on them?

Were it not so serious a matter, she might have laughed. A spy! Why, the idea of it!

Yet even as she thought of it, she recalled the hostility in the young guildsman’s face and wondered whether that might not be the cause.

They think I threaten them.

The thought was sobering. And suddenly, for the first time since those early days on Irrat, Anna began to wonder if her life was not possibly in danger.

“WELL?” LORD ENEAH ASKED LATER THAT EVENING
when the Five were finally alone together. “Do you still think she is a threat, Nehir?”

Nehir, who had just taken a seat on the far side of the desk to Eneah, looked up, his pale eyes challenging.

“Not her, Eneah, but what she says. Personally, I think we have heard enough.”

“I agree,” Rakeri said, leaning forward in his chair. “What she is in herself does not concern us here; it is the threat that contact with her people might entail.”

“You feel there is a genuine threat, then?”

Rakeri met Eneah’s eyes and gave a single nod. “As you know, I did not agree with Veovis at first, but I feel my son’s views have been fully vindicated. If what the girl says is true—and I believe it is—then the surface-dwellers are a backward, warlike, immoral race, whose every action is motivated by greed.”

“You read that much into her words?”

“I did indeed. Why, her every utterance spoke of a deep corruption in their natures!”

“I agree,” R’hira said quietly, speaking from his seat in the corner of the room. “I think we need hear no more. It would be folly even to think of establishing contact with the outsiders.”

“And you, Sajka?”

Sajka, the most recently appointed of the Five, simply nodded.

“Then, so we shall propose.” Eneah looked about him. “I shall summon the full Council to session tomorrow at tenth bell. There is, however, one small matter that still needs to be settled, and that is what to do with the girl.”

“Send her back,” Rakeri suggested.

“Far too risky,” R’hira countered. “It is unlikely, I admit, but someone might believe her tale and come looking for us.”

“Then maybe we should place her on a Prison Age,” Nehir said. “It need not be a harsh one. Somewhere pleasant, possibly. We could even make a new one for her, if need be.”

“Pleasant or otherwise, do you think that would be just reward for her honesty with us, Nehir?” Eneah’s eyes went from one to another of their faces, silently questioning each in turn, then he nodded.

“So it is. The girl will stay here, in D’ni. We shall find a home for her, temporarily, until it is decided fully. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“Agreed.”

“Agreed.”

Sajka, who had not spoken until then, looked about him, a wintry smile on his thin lips, and nodded. “Agreed.”

VEOVIS WAS ECSTATIC. THAT EVENING HE THREW
a celebratory party at an inn down by the harbor. Aitrus, who had never found time to visit such places, tried hard to make his excuses, but Veovis would have none of it.

And so Aitrus found himself wedged into a corner of a huge dining room packed with busy tables, while all about him a dozen young guildsmen—some familiar to him, others only “faces”—dipped their goblets into the great central vat that rested at the table’s center and drank to the young Lord’s success.

“It was that final question that did it,” Suahrnir said, his face glowing with excitement. “After that, it was a mere formality.”

“Maybe so,” Veovis said, standing up and looking to Aitrus across the table, “but let me say one thing that has not been said. I was wrong about the girl.”

“Wrong?” several voices said as one.

Veovis raised his hands, palms out. “Hear me out, gentlemen! Before the hearing I was quite clear in my mind what kind of creature she would prove to be, and if you recall I was not hesitant in saying so!”

There was laughter at that and a great deal of nodding.

“However,” Veovis went on, “I
was
wrong, and I am not too proud to admit it. Whatever the merits or otherwise of her race, the girl spoke well. Yes, and honestly, I warrant. I think we all sensed that.”

There was a murmur of agreement and more nodding of heads.

“Word is,” Veovis continued, “that she is to stay in D’ni. Now, whether that is for the common good or not remains to be seen, but so our Masters have decided, and I feel we should, this once, wait and see. That said, we must remain vigilant.”

“What do you mean?” Veovis’s constant companion, Lianis, asked from where he sat to the left of the young Lord.

“I mean we ought not to let the girl become a focus for any movement to reverse today’s decision. No contact ought to mean exactly that. No contact.”

“And if she proves such a focus, Veovis?” Suahrnir asked.

Veovis smiled and looked about him confidently. “Then we should act to have her removed from D’ni to some more suitable place.”

Aitrus, who had been listening closely, frowned. A Prison Age, that was what Veovis meant. Yet he could not deny that his friend was being as fair as he could be, considering his views.

Aitrus reached out and took his goblet, cradling it to his chest. He was pleased that Veovis was so happy, yet he could not share their jubilation at today’s decision. Perhaps it was as Veovis said, that he was letting sentiment cloud his better judgment, but part of him was still back there in the rock, making his way up to the surface, with Master Telanis and Jerahl and all the others who had gone on that youthful venture. Whatever he had become these past thirty years, he could not shed that earlier self.

Watching the girl speak, it had finally crystallized in him. He knew now that he wanted contact: wanted, more than anything, to stand up there and see, with his own eyes, what the surface was like.

But how could he say that to Veovis and remain his friend? For to Veovis the very idea of it was anathema.

“Guild Master Aitrus?”

The voice cut through the general babble of voices at the table. Aitrus looked up, expecting it to be one of the young guildsmen, then saw, just behind Lianis, a cloaked guildsman from the Guild of Messengers.

Silence fell around the table. Aitrus set down his goblet, then stood. “What is it?” he asked.

“An urgent message, Master,” the Messenger answered, drawing off one of his gloves, then taking a sealed letter from his tunic pocket. “I was told to ensure that you act upon its contents immediately.”

With a smile, Veovis put out a hand. “Here. I’ll hand it to my friend.”

The Messenger looked to Aitrus, who nodded. With a small bow to Veovis, he handed the letter to him, then stood back, pulling on his glove again.

Veovis turned back, then handed the letter across. “Urgent business, eh, old friend? That looks like Lord Eneah’s seal.”

Aitrus stared at the envelope a moment. Veovis was right. It was Lord Eneah’s seal. But when he opened it, the note was not from Lord Eneah, but from his father.

He looked up. “Forgive me, Veovis, but I must leave at once.”

“Is there trouble?” Veovis asked, genuinely concerned.

Aitrus swallowed. “It does not say.”

“Then go,” Veovis said, signaling to the others about the table to make way. “Go at once. But let me know, all right? If there is anything I can do …”

Aitrus, squeezing past his fellow guildsmen, gave a distracted nod. Then he was gone.

Veovis sat, staring across the crowded room, his face briefly clouded. Then, looking back at the others about the table, he smiled and raised his goblet. “To D’ni!” he exclaimed.

A dozen voices answered him robustly.
“To D’ni!”

KAHLIS STOOD IN THE ENTRANCE HALL, PACING
up and down, awaiting his son. It was midnight and the city bell was sounding across the lake.

As the last chime echoed into silence, he heard the outer gate creak back and hurried footsteps on the stone flags outside. A shadow fell across the colored glass of the door panels.

Kahlis stepped across and drew the bolt, pulling the door open.

Aitrus stood there, wide-eyed and breathless. From the look of him he had run the last half mile.

“What’s happened?” he said, looking past his father.

Kahlis closed the door. “Come upstairs, Aitrus.”

They went up, into his study. Closing the door quietly, Kahlis turned to him.

“I have been asked to look after the outsider for a time. Lord Eneah summoned me this evening and asked me if I would take the girl, Ah-na, into my household, as a temporary measure. Until better arrangements can be made. He asked me because he understood my concern for the young woman.”

“And you want me to agree to this?”

“Yes.”

“Then I agree.”

Kahlis went to speak again, then realized what his son had said. “You agree?”

“I take it Mother has agreed. And you must have, else you would not be asking me.”

In answer Kahlis went over to the door and opened it, then called down the steps. “Tasera!”

His mother’s head and shoulders appeared at the foot of the stairs.

“Tasera,” Kahlis said, “bring the young lady. I wish to introduce her to our son.”

AS SHE STEPPED INTO THE BOOK-FILLED STUDY
, Anna looked about her warily.

“Aitrus,” Kahlis said, “this is Ah-na. She is to be our house guest for a time.”

Aitrus bowed his head respectfully. “I am glad you will be staying with us.”

“Thank you,” she said, their eyes meeting briefly as he lifted his head again. “I am grateful for your kindness in letting me stay.”