The Myst Reader (72 page)

Eneah straightened slightly. He had not slept at all last night and every joint ached as if it had been dipped in hot oil, but that was not unusual. These days he lived in constant pain.

With a small, regretful sigh, he drew a sheet of paper to him and, taking a quill pen from the inkstand, quickly wrote an acceptance letter then signed his name. Once the remaining Lords had set their names to it, the letter would be sealed and incorporated into the public record. In the meantime, a notice would be posted throughout D’ni, advising the citizens of this news.

And so ended a promising career.

Eneah reached across and rang his summons bell. At once a secretary appeared at the door.

“Take this to Lord R’hira at once.

ANNA STOOD BEFORE THE THREE OF THEM.

“So you wish to leave?” Kahlis asked.

“No,” she answered. “You have all been kind to me. Yet I feel I ought to. I have brought so much trouble to this household.”

“The choice was mine,” Aitrus said. “If anyone should leave, it should be me.”

“That would be wrong,” Anna said. “Besides, I shall be comfortable enough at Lord Eneah’s mansion.”

“Nonsense!” Tasera said, speaking for the first time since Anna had summoned them to this meeting. “I will not hear of it! Lord Eneah is an old man! No. You will stay here!”

Anna stared at Tasera, astonished. She had thought Tasera most of all would have wanted her gone. Since the Council’s meeting she had been practically ostracized. Yet Tasera seemed by far the most indignant of the three.

“Then it is settled,” Kahlis said, smiling proudly at his wife, “Ah-na stays here, as family.”

IT WAS AN ANCIENT BOOK, GREAT WHORLS OF
faded color dotting the pale gray of its musty leather cover like dusty jewels. Looking down at it, Guild Master Kedri found himself smiling. Until yesterday it had remained unread upon its shelf for close on nineteen hundred years.

Kedri looked up at Anna, who sat to one side of the desk, then addressed the young man. “Forgive me, Guildsman, but how exactly did you find this? It is not as if this lay directly on the path of our main search.”

The young man bowed his head nervously, then spoke. “It was something you said, Master Kedri. Last night, at supper. You know, about trying to identify possible factors in the search.”

“Go on.”

“It got me thinking, Master, asking myself just what kind of person might be granted access to an Age. That is, what kind of non-D’ni person, naturally.”

“And?”

“Well … my first thought was that such a person would have to have the ear of someone important—someone very important, indeed, perhaps even one of the Five. And so I went to the list of clerks …”

“Clerks?”

“To the Five.”

“Ah … and what did that give you?”

The young man smiled. “Six names.”

Already Kedri was ahead of him. “Names that were not D’ni, I presume.”

“Yes, Master. There was a time when some of the more talented natives—from Guild Ages and the like—were permitted to come here, into D’ni itself.”

Kedri raised an eyebrow. “Now
that
I did not know.”

“No, Master, for it was a very long time ago, very shortly after the Council was first set up in its present form, not long after the Age of Kings.”

“I see. And these clerks … were they restricted to D’ni, or were they granted access to other Ages?”

The guildsman nodded at the book before Kedri. “I have marked the relevant passages, Master. I am sure there are further entries in the other books.”

There was a small pile of books on the floor behind the young guildsman.

Anna felt a tingle of excitement pass through her. She stood and, crouching, lifted one of the books and opened it, sniffing in the scent of great age as it wafted up to her off the page.

It was an old script, different in several ways from its modern counterpart, yet easily decipherable. In several places the ink had faded almost to nothing, yet the meaning of the text was quite clear.

Anna looked across at Kedri and nodded, a feeling of deep satisfaction flooding her at that moment.

“It is not too old then, Master?” the young guildsman asked. “I thought, perhaps, that its age might possibly invalidate it.”

“A precedent is a precedent,” Kedri said, looking to Anna, then reading the passage once again. “We shall find further sources to verify this, no doubt—and further instances, I warrant.”

He closed the book, then nodded. “You have done well, guildsman.”

“Thank you, Master,” the young man answered, bowing low, a great beam of a smile on his face.

“Thank
you
, Guildsman …”

“Neferus, Master. Guildsman Neferus.”

WHAT HAD TAKEN THE FULL VOTE OF THE
Council to decide, took but a single signature to revoke.

As Lord Eneah pushed the document away, he felt a great weight slip from him. He was glad Master Kedri had found what he had found, for he had never felt quite at ease with the decision, yet looking up, he saw in his mind the closed face of Lord Rakeri, and knew that all the Five were not as pleased as he.

The Books would be returned to Master Kahlis, and Ah-na would be free to travel in them. Yet all was not quite as it had been. Aitrus still refused to take up his vacated role as representative of the Guild of Surveyors. He said he had had enough of votes and meetings, and maybe he was right. And as for Veovis …

Eneah dropped the pen back into the inkstand and leaned back, weary now that it was all over.

Young Veovis had called on him earlier that day, determined to have his say. He had not been rude, nor had he challenged in any way the validity of Master Kedri’s discoveries, yet it was clear that he resented the Legislator’s intrusion in Council matters, and was dead set against allowing Ah-na entry into any D’ni Age. He had ended by begging Lord Eneah to set the ancient precedent aside and endorse the Council’s decision, but Eneah had told him he could not do that.

The law
was
the law, after all. Precedent was precedent. It was the D’ni way and had been for a thousand generations.

And so Veovis had left, under a cloud, angry and resentful, and who knew what trouble would come of that?

But so it is
, Eneah thought,
looking about him at the empty study. No single man, however great or powerful, is more important than D’ni.

He smiled, knowing that soon he would be little more than a name, another statue in the Great Hall of the Lords.

“So it is,” he said quietly. “And so it must be. Until the end of time.”

And with that he stood, walked across the room and out, moving slowly, silently, like a shadow on the rock.

A
NNA WAITED, CROUCHED JUST IN FRONT OF
Aitrus in the narrow tunnel, looking out into the bottom of the well. Just below her, the surface of the tiny, circular pool was black. Slowly, very slowly, sunlight crept down the smooth, black wall facing her, a pure light, almost unreal it seemed so bright, each separate shaft a solid, shining bar in that penumbral darkness.

It was cool and silent, yet overhead, far above the surface, the sun approached its zenith.

“Wait …” Aitrus said softly. “Just a moment longer.”

The sunlight touched the still, curved edge of the water. A moment later the water’s depths were breached, the straight beam bent, refracted by the clear liquid.

Anna gasped. It was beautiful. The well had a solid wooden lid, but Aitrus had cut an intricate design into the wood. As the sun climbed directly above the well, so each part of that design was slowly etched upon the dark circle of the pool, until the whole of it could be seen, burning like shafts of brilliant fire in the cool, translucent depths of the water.

The D’ni word Shorah.
“Peace.”

Anna smiled and turned to look at Aitrus, seeing how the word was reflected in the black centers of his pupils.

“So that’s what you were doing,” she said quietly. “I wondered.”

She turned back, knowing, without needing to be told, that its beauty was transient, would be gone just as soon as the sun moved from its zenith and the sunlight climbed the wall again.

“I made it for you,” he said.

I know
, she thought. Aloud, she said, “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it?”

They watched, together in the silence, until, with a final, glittering wink, the brightness in the pool was gone.

Anna stared into the blackness and sighed.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, after a moment.

“I was thinking of my father.”

“Ah …” He was silent a long while, then, “Come. Let’s go back up.”

Anna turned and followed, half-crouched as she walked along the tiny tunnel, then straightening to climb the twisting flight of steps that had been cut from the rock. Aitrus had worked weeks on this. And all for that one small instant of magic.

A tiny shiver passed through her. She watched him climb the steps ahead of her, noticing how neatly his hair was clipped at his neck, how strong his back and arms were, how broad his shoulders, and realized just how familiar he had become these last few years.

As familiar almost as this Age they had slowly built together.

Stepping out into the sunlight beside Aitrus, Anna smiled. It was so green. All she could see was green. Forest and grasslands, wood and plain. Why, even the slow, meandering rivers were green with trailing weed.

Only the sky was blue. A deep, water-heavy blue. In the distance a great raft of huge white clouds drifted slowly from right to left, their movement almost imperceptible, casting deep shadows on the hills and valleys below.

It had all seemed strange at first, after the desert landscape she had known all her life. So strange, that she had spent hours simply staring at the clouds, fascinated by them.

She looked to Aitrus. He was wearing his D’ni glasses now, to protect his eyes against the glare of the sun. They all wore them when not in D’ni. Only she did not have to.

“We should go north next,” she said. “To the mountains. I could map that area beyond the lake.”

Aitrus smiled. “Perhaps. Or maybe that long valley to the northeast of here.”

She looked down, smiling, knowing exactly why he was interested in that area. They had passed through it several weeks ago on their way back from the peninsula and had noticed signs of long-dormant volcanic activity. She had seen the tiny gleam of interest in his eyes.

“If you want.”

They walked on, talking as they went, continuing the discussion they had begun earlier that day. Wherever they went, they talked, making observations on the physical signs of this world, and debating which small changes to the words and phrasing might have caused this effect or that.

Sometimes Aitrus would stop, crouch down with the notepad balanced on his knee, and would write down something he or she had said, wanting to capture it, ready to enter it in the book of commentary they had begun six months back. Already they had filled half the great ledger with their observations, and each day they added to it, with words and maps and drawings.