The Myst Reader (85 page)

And so she was to relinquish him, long before he was ready to be taken from her. It would break his heart and hers, but maybe Aitrus was right. Maybe, in the long run, it
would
be best for him. Yet she had her doubts.

As the Grand Master called the boy forward, she found herself praying silently that he would remember the words she had taught him—the words of the guild oath.

Slowly, stumblingly, Gehn forced them out. As he finished, Master Yteru smiled benevolently down at the child, then, in a slow, sonorous drawl, uttered the words of acceptance.

And so it was done. Her son was now a guildsman.

Afterward, she held him, telling him how proud she was, but she could see the fear of separation in his eyes.

Aitrus had been saying his farewells to the guildsmen; now he came back. He stood in the doorway, looking in at her and Gehn. “Are you angry with me?”

She nodded.

He sighed, exasperated. “I am sorry, Ti’ana, but you know how things stand. It is the D’ni way, and we cannot afford to act differently. That would be self-indulgent. You knew that when you became D’ni.”

“I know,” she said, as angry at herself as at him, “but I did not think it would be so hard.”

“No. But there is one thing we can do. Before Gehn goes, that is.”

“You want to go to Gemedet?”

Aitrus shook his head. “I promised you once. Remember?”

At first she did not understand; then her eyes widened.

He nodded.

“Yes, Ti’ana. It’s time our son saw where his mother came from.”

THE JOURNEY THROUGH THE TUNNELS TOOK
two days. On the morning of the third they came to the cavern where the two great digging machines stood silently. As Anna and Gehn came up beside him, Aitrus turned to them and smiled.

“We are almost there.” He pointed across at the great red wedge of rock facing them. “There is the seal. The surface must be just above.”

Anna nodded. “This is where I came in. I remember it vividly. The machines …” She stared at them fondly, then smiled. “Do you know what I thought, Aitrus?”

“No, tell me.”

“I thought I had discovered the tomb of a great king. And these … I thought these were the remains of some great civilization, a long-lost race of giants, perhaps, or …” She laughed. “Little did I know.”

Aitrus looked at her fondly. “I am glad you chose to look, Ti’ana. But for that curiosity of yours, I would have been lost.”

Anna looked away, a smile on her lips. “Oh, I am sure some young D’ni maiden would have found you.”

He laughed. “Maybe. But let us press on now. I am impatient to see the surface.”

Gehn, who had been silent until that moment, now spoke up. “Daddy? Why did we not
link
to the surface?”

Aitrus came back and, crouching before his son, began to explain. “If this were a different Age, then we might have linked to it, but the surface is in the same Age as D’ni and one cannot link to a place in the same Age.”

“What,
never?
” the boy asked, wide-eyed.

“Never,” Aitrus said, smiling patiently.

Gehn frowned, considering that, then looked back up at his father. “But how will we find our way back to D’ni?”

Aitrus took his notebook from his pocket and opened it. Inside, between the tanned leather covers, were page after page of maps and diagrams. Aitrus flicked through it for a while, then, coming to the page, turned the notebook so that Gehn could see.

“Look, Gehn. Here is a map of the tunnels. I have been making notes as we went along. We need only trace our way back.”

It seemed to satisfy the boy. He grinned, then went across to his mother, who stood beneath one of the great machines. She put her arm about him, then looked back at Aitrus.

“When I first saw these, I was convinced that whoever had made them must be long dead, for what kind of race would make such wonderful machines then leave them in the rock?”

Aitrus smiled then walked across to her. “Was it this one that you climbed?”

She nodded.

“You climbed it, Mama?” Gehn asked, looking up at his mother in wide-eyed wonder.

“I did. And then I walked down into D’ni. Only I did not know it was D’ni. Not until long after.”

They went through the gap, Anna leading the way, Gehn close behind. Reaching the pocket, Aitrus lit the lantern again. He knew what lay ahead—Anna had already told him—but now they were so close, he felt a strange excitement. How many years now had he waited for this?

Fifty years, at least.

Anna was first to climb down. At the bottom she turned, reaching up to take Gehn as Aitrus let him down. Then they were in the cavern, where it had first began for Anna, all those years ago. She looked to him.

“It hasn’t changed.”

They went on, climbing up into the tunnel and along, until the three of them stood before the rock fall.

Aitrus set the timer, then took them back to a safe distance. There was a huge bang. The whole tunnel shuddered. As the smoke cleared, Anna picked Gehn up and, following Aitrus, walked through, stepping over the rubble.

It was night. A full moon rested like a shining disk of silver in the center of the blue-black velvet sky. Surrounding it, a billion flickering stars shone down.

Aitrus stood there at the entrance to the tunnel, staring up at the moon. Beside him, Anna held Gehn against her side, her face close to his, and pointed.

“Look, Gehn. That’s the moon.”

“Moon,” he said, snuggling in to her, tired now.

Anna smiled then turned her head, looking to Aitrus. He met her eyes and smiled.

“Come,” he said, taking her hand, “let’s find the Lodge.”

THEY SAT ON THE LEDGE OF THE OPEN WINDOW
, looking out across the narrow bridge toward the desert. Gehn was asleep in the room behind them.

Anna listened a moment, then smiled. Aitrus sat just behind her, his arms about her, his chin resting on the top of her head. It had been her secret dream to bring him here and sit with him like this, yet now that it was real it seemed more dreamlike than the dream—a moment wholly out of time. She pressed back against him and felt his arms tighten about her.

“Do you still miss him?” he asked softly.

“Sometimes.”

She half-turned her head, looking back at him. “He speaks to me sometimes. In my head.”

Aitrus smiled, but she could see he only half-believed her, or maybe thought she meant that she thought of her father and remembered his words. But it was true what she said.

She felt Aitrus sigh, a sigh of pure contentment, and turned back, letting her eyes go to the descending moon once more, the smile lingering at the corners of her mouth.

“Ti’ana?”

“Hmm?” she answered lazily.

“I know how much you loved your father, and how much you owed to him, but … well, what of your mother? You never speak of her.”

“No.”

Even the thought of it brought back the pain.

“Ti’ana?” Aitrus sat forward.

“It’s all right,” she said.

She began again, hunching forward as she spoke, letting the words come haltingly. “It was an accident. We were climbing. In the mountains to the south of here. My father had gone up the cliff face first, and I had followed. Mother was last, all three of us tied on the same rope. Father had walked on a little way, to inspect the cliffs we had glimpsed from below. That was why we were there, you see. We were always exploring.”

Anna stopped, catching her breath. Again she saw it, vividly, as if it had happened not thirty-five years ago but yesterday—the staring eyes, the mouth open in surprise.

Anna collected herself, then carried on. “The difficult part of the climb was behind her and she was only six or eight feet from the edge. I could almost have put out a hand and hauled her up. She was smiling. And then her foot slipped. It ought not to have mattered. The rope ought to have held her. I felt a momentary tension on it, then it went, like a rotten vine. And next thing she was falling. And not a sound—just her eyes looking back at me, her mouth open in surprise.

“Father blamed himself, of course. He should have checked the rope, he kept saying, but I could see that he was devastated.”

Aitrus was silent a while. “I am sorry, Ti’ana. I did not know. I should not have asked.”

She turned to face him, kneeling on the ledge. Her face was streaked with tears, but she was smiling tenderly now. She reached out, her hands gently holding his cheeks. “No, Aitrus. You of all people should have known. We should have no secrets, you and I.”

She kissed him then; softly, tenderly, her eyes shining in the moonlight. And as they broke from the kiss, his eyes were wide with wonder.

GEHN WOKE HIM, SHAKING HIM AWAKE. SUNLIGHT
blazed in from the room at the front of the Lodge, so strong it stabbed into his pupils, making him shield his eyes then feel about him for his glasses.

“Mama’s gone!” Gehn was saying. “Mama’s gone!”

Aitrus pulled on the glasses, then sat up, putting out his arms to hold the frightened boy. “No, Gehn. She will be back. I promise you.”

But Gehn was sobbing uncontrollably at the thought that he had lost his mother. Aitrus held Gehn tightly until the crying subsided, then, picking him up, he carried him out, through the room at the front until they stood in the doorway, looking out over the valley.

The heat surprised him. It could not be more than an hour since dawn, yet already it was far hotter than the hottest day on Gemedet or Ko’ah. He recalled what Anna had said about the heat; how it was the single factor that determined life here. It was not something he would have written into an Age, but someone, the Grand Master who had written the Book of Earth, had thought of it, and created the conditions for such extremes of cold and heat.

Gehn had fallen silent, yet he still clung to his father’s neck as if his life depended on it. Aitrus looked at him and smiled.

“You want a drink, Gehn?”

Gehn nodded.

Aitrus took him back inside, setting him gently down on the window ledge while he poured him a goblet of cool, clear water from the jug Anna had filled the night before.

Turning, he saw how Gehn was staring about him. “Where are we?” he asked, taking the water gratefully.

“This is where your mother lived when she was young,” he answered. “This is where she grew up, with her father.”

“Here?” Gehn seemed astonished. “But where are the Books?”

Aitrus laughed. “These people are human. They are not like the D’ni. They do not have Books and Ages. This is all they have.”

Gehn wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then looked up at Aitrus. “But how could they live with just this?”

Aitrus looked about him. To be honest, he had asked himself the very same question. Now that he had seen the Lodge, he wondered how Anna had survived out here.

“They made do,” he answered, finally. Yet even as he said it he heard Anna’s voice. She was singing. A song he had never heard before, in a tongue he did not know.

Quickly he joined Gehn at the window, in time to see Anna come over the crest of the hill, a small cart pushed before her. She was wearing a black cloak trimmed with red, the hood of which was up over her head. Seeing them, she waved, then came on again, finishing her song.