The Myst Reader (76 page)

VEOVIS AGREED TO MEET WITH AITRUS IN HIS
father’s study, Lord Rakeri a silent presence in his chair, there to ensure that things were kept within due bounds.

“So what is it that you want, Guildsman?” Veovis said, standing six paces from where Aitrus stood facing him, his hands clasped behind his back.

Aitrus met Veovis’s masklike stare with his own. “I seek an explanation for your vote this morning.”

“And I decline to give its.”

“You do not like her, do you?”

Veovis shrugged. “As I said …”

“… you decline to give your reasons.”

Veovis nodded.

“You recall our meeting in the shaft all those years ago?”

“What of it?”

“You recall what happened … afterward? How I helped save your life?”

Veovis blinked. He took a long breath, then: “I was very grateful for your actions. But what of it? What bearing has it on this matter?”

“You made me a promise. Remember? You said then that if there was anything I wanted—
anything
—that was in your power to grant, then I should come to you and you would grant it.”

Veovis stood there like a statue, his eyes like flints, staring back at Aitrus.

“
Do
you remember?”

“I remember.”

“Then I ask you to keep your word, Lord Veovis, and give me your permission, before the full Council, to marry Ti’ana.”

Veovis was silent for a long time. Finally he turned, looking to his father. Rakeri stared back at his son a moment, his eyes filled with a heavy sadness, then gave a single nod.

Veovis turned back. “I am a man of my word, and so your wish is granted, Aitrus, son of Kahlis, but from this day forth I wish neither to speak with you nor hear from you again. Whatever once existed between us is now at an end. All promises are met. You understand?”

Aitrus stared back at him, his face expressionless. “I understand. And thank you.”

“You
thank
me?” Veovis laughed bitterly. “Just go, for I am sick of the sight of you.”

T
HE VESTIBULE WAS PACKED WITH GUILDSMEN
—Grand Masters and their assistants, great Lords, and other, humbler members of the central D’ni Council—all waiting to enter the great chamber for the debate. As ever before any momentous occasion, the place was buzzing with talk as small groups of cloaked members gathered between the fluted marble pillars to indulge in informal discussion of the new proposal.

At the center of one of the larger groups stood Aitrus, whose proposal it was. In the fifteen years since he had returned to Council, he had established himself as the unofficial leader of the more liberal faction in the House, and was often consulted by the Five on matters of policy. Today, however, he was distracted.

“Any news?” his friend Oren of the Guild of Chemists asked as he joined the group.

“Nothing yet,” Aitrus answered.

“She’ll be all right,” Penjul, another close friend and a Master of the Guild of Legislators, said, laying a hand briefly on Aitrus’s shoulder.

“I guess so,” Aitrus said, but his concern was clear.

“So how will it go today?” Oren asked, looking about him at the dozen or so Masters who formed the core of their faction. “Does anyone have a clear idea?”

There were smiles. Oren, as a Chemist, always wanted a certain answer.

“Whichever way it goes, it will be close,” Hamil, the eldest of their group and Grand Master of the Guild of Messengers, said, pulling at his long white beard. “Much will depend upon the eloquence of our friend here.”

Oren looked to Aitrus. “Then we are lost,” he said, a faint smile at one corner of his mouth. “Master Aitrus has but a single thing in his head today.”

Aitrus smiled. “Do not fret, Master Oren, I shall be all right. Having to speak will distract me from more important matters.”

All nodded at that. Though the proposal was important to them all there, Ti’ana’s health was paramount.

Indeed, without Ti’ana there would have been no proposal, for it was she who had taken them down to the lower city to see conditions for themselves; she who, in the main part, had drafted the proposal.

“They say Veovis is to speak for our opponents,” Penjul said, looking across the vestibule to where Veovis stood, beneath the great arched doors to the main chamber, surrounded by the old men of his faction.

“Then the debate will be long and hard,” Tekis of the Archivists said wryly.

“Long-winded, certainly,” Penjul added, to general laughter.

“Maybe,” Aitrus said, “yet I understand Lord Veovis’s objections even so. He fears that this change is but the thin end of the wedge, and he is not alone in fearing this. Our task is to allay such fears, if not in Veovis, then in others who might vote with him. They must see that we mean exactly what we say and no more. Only then might we win.”

There were nods all around at that.

“And if we lose?” Oren asked.

Aitrus smiled. “Then we find other ways to help the lower city. As Ti’ana has often said to me, there is always more than one way to skin a reekoo.”

THE CHAMBER WAS SILENT AS VEOVIS ROSE FROM
his seat on the lowest level and, turning, looked about him at the gathered members.

“Guildsmen, my Lords … as you know, my task is to persuade you not to adopt this rash proposal. I do not think I need say much. As the present system of governing our city has worked for more than five thousand years, then one might argue that it
has
worked well.”

Veovis paused, his eyes resting briefly on Aitrus, who sat not five spans from where he stood, watching him intently.

“Yet there is another issue here, and that is the question of who runs D’ni. Such measures as are proposed might seem innocuous, yet they are guaranteed to encourage restlessness among the common people, for having tasted power—if only of this limited kind—then would they not want greater power? Would they be content to remain thus limited?

“Besides, as we who were bred to it know to our great cost, power is but one side of the equation; responsibility is the other. Power can be given overnight, but responsibility must be taught. Long years go into its making. Do we not, then, ask a great deal of these common men, however good their intentions, in expecting them to shoulder the burden of responsibility without due preparation? Of course we do. Is it not unfair to ask them to be as wise and knowing as ourselves, when all they have known until this time is service? It is.”

Veovis smiled. “And that is ultimately why I say nay to this proposal. Because of the unhappiness it would bring to those who presently are happier than us. Why give them such care? Why burden them with it? No, fellow guildsmen, let us be content and leave things as they are. Say nay as I say nay and let us be done with it. Guildsmen, my Lords, thank you.”

Veovis sat, to a murmur of approval. At a signal from Lord R’hira, Aitrus stood.

“Guildsmen, my Lords … As you may know, my wife, Ti’ana, is in labor, and so I, too, ought to be brief.”

There was laughter. Even Veovis gave a grudging nod.

“However, let me just say a word or two in answer to my fellow member’s comments. I understand how busy Lord Veovis is, yet if he had read my proposal thoroughly, he would see that what I am proposing falls far short of the kind of
power
he suggests we would be relinquishing. Not only that, but I find myself in profound agreement with Veovis. Power is not a thing to be given lightly. And yes, responsibility is a grave and heavy burden and ought to be something one is schooled to bear. That is the D’ni way, and I would not have it changed.”

Aitrus paused, looking about him, his eyes going from face to face among the circular levels of the great chamber.

“Let me therefore say it clearly, for the benefit of all, so that there is no mistaking what I am asking you to agree to today. I am as one with Lord Veovis. All matters of policy and funding
must
remain the prerogative of this chamber. I do not contest that for a moment. My proposal is designed to give, not take—to
empower
the common people of D’ni and give them a degree of control over their lives that at present they do not have.”

Aitrus smiled. “I see that some of you shake your heads at that, but it is true, and some of you have seen it with your own eyes. Our people—D’ni, like ourselves—are not poor, nor are they hard done by. They have food and shelter, sanitation and medicines if need be, but—and this is the vital point—their lot could be improved. Greatly improved.”

He looked about him once again, scrutinizing face after face.

“I know what some of you are thinking. Why? Why should we be concerned about improving their lot? Well, let me give you two good reasons. First, just think of whom we speak. We are not talking of idlers and spendthrifts and good-for-nothings, but of good, hardworking people, men and women both. All of us here know a good dozen or more such people. We meet them daily and depend on them for many things. And they depend on us.

“Second, it is often said, with justifiable pride, that D’ni rules ten thousand Ages, yet a society ought to be judged not merely by the extent of its empire but by the quality of life of
all
its citizens. We are a rich people. We can afford to be generous. Indeed, I would argue that it is our moral duty to be generous, especially to our own. And that is why I ask you, fellow guildsmen, to say ‘aye’ to this proposal. For D’ni, and so that we might in future look ourselves squarely in the mirror and be proud of what we have done here today. Guildsmen, my Lords, thank you.”

As Aitrus sat, Lord R’hira signaled to the stewards at the back of the hall. Veovis and Aitrus had been the last two speakers; now it was all down to the vote.

R’hira waited as the eight stewards took their places. It was their job to count the hands raised both for and against the proposal. When they were ready, R’hira looked to his fellow Lords, then spoke again.

“All those in favor of the motion raise your hands.”

The stewards quickly counted.

“And those against.”

Again the stewards made their tally.

“Thank you, Guildsmen.”

The stewards turned, making their way down, forming an orderly queue before Lord R’hira. As each gave his tally, R’hira wrote it down in the great ledger before him. As the final steward turned away, Lord R’hira quickly added up the two columns of figures, then looked to either side of him. It was a protocol that the Five Lords did not vote unless a decision was so close—within three votes, usually—that their opinion could decide the matter.

“Guildsmen,” he said, looking back at the rank after rank of members seated around and above him. “It appears that you are divided on this issue. One hundred and eighty-two members for, one hundred and eighty against. In the circumstances, the Five speak
for
the proposal.”

Veovis was on his feet at once. “But you cannot, my Lord! For what good reason …”

He fell silent, then bowed his head.

R’hira stared at the young Lord a moment, then stood, signaling to all that the proceedings were over. “The Council has spoken, Master Veovis. The proposal is carried.”

SUAHRNIR CLOSED THE DOOR QUIETLY BEHIND
him, then turned, looking across the lamplit room to where his friend Veovis sat in the corner chair, lost in thought.

It was some time since he had seen Veovis quite so agitated, and even though he had calmed down considerably since the Council meeting, there was still a brooding intensity to him that did not bode well.

“Would you like a drink?” he asked, going over to the great stone cupboard beneath the window and picking up one of the three crystal decanters he kept there.

Veovis glanced up, then shook his head.

Suahrnir shrugged, then poured himself a large drink. He took a swig from the glass, then turned, facing Veovis again as the warmth of the liquor filled his throat.