The Myst Reader

by Rand; Robyn Miller; David Wingrove

  It was not long before he had begun to teach her the D’ni names for the different types of rock and the terms his people used to describe the various geological processes. Anna learned easily and was soon fluent enough to hold those conversations which, through to today, had never ceased between them. After a while Aitrus had begun to push her, testing her, as if to find the limits of her intelligence, but it seemed there were no bounds to what she was capable of.

  Right now, however, the two of them stood beside the trestle table. Aitrus studied the half-completed map a moment then tapped an area in the top left corner with his forefinger.

  “We could start here, Ah-na, where the river bends and drops. It would give us the opportunity to map all of this area to the west of the river. That would take, what? Two days?”

  Anna studied the blank area on her map and nodded. “Two. Three at most.”

  “Three it is. We could take the tent and camp there. Then we could spend a day or two exploring the valley. There are cave systems there. Did you see them?”

  Anna smiled. “I saw.”

  “Good. And once we’ve finished there, we could come back here and spend a couple of days writing things up.”

  “Can the guild spare you that long?”

  “If they need me urgently, they’ll send someone. But I doubt it. Things are slow at present, and until the Guild of Miners present their report on the new excavation, that is how it will remain. We might as well use the time fruitfully.”

  “Aitrus?”

  “Yes?”

  “Can we set out a little later tomorrow? In the afternoon, perhaps?”

  “You want to see the well again?”

  Anna nodded.

  “All right. I guess it will take most of the morning to pack what we need, anyway.”

  She smiled. That was so like Aitrus. Rather than admit to indulging her, he would always find some excuse to let her have her way.

  “And Aitrus?”

  He turned, clearly distracted. “Yes?”

  “Oh, nothing…Nothing important, anyway.”

  §

  That evening it rained; a warm, heavy rain that thundered on the roof of the cabin and filled the valley like a huge, shimmering mist of silver.

  Anna stepped out into the downpour, raising her arms, her head back, savoring the feel of the rain against her skin.

  Just across from her, Aitrus peeked out from his tent and, seeing what she was doing, called out to her.

  “Ah-na! What are you doing? You’ll be soaked to the skin!”

  Laughing, she turned to face him, then, on whim, began to dance, whirling around and around, her bare feet flying across the wet grass.

  “Ah-na!”

  She stopped, facing him, then put a hand out.

  “Come, Aitrus! Join me!”

  Aitrus hesitated, then, reluctantly, yet smiling all the same, he stepped out. Almost instantly he was soaked, his hair plastered to his head.

  He took her hand.

  “Come!” she said, her eyes shining brightly, excitedly, “let’s dance!” And without warning, she began to whirl him around and around beneath the open sky, the light from the hanging lanterns in front of the cabin turning the fall of rain into a cascade of silver.

  Exhilarated, Aitrus whooped loudly, then stopped dead. He was laughing, his whole face alive as she had never seen it before.

  “Isn’t it wonderful?” she asked, almost shouting against the noise of the downpour.

  “Marvelous!” he shouted back, then, unexpectedly, he grabbed her close and whirled around and around again, until, giddy, from their circling, he stopped, swaying and coughing and laughing.

  Anna, too, was laughing. She put her head back, drinking in the pure, clean water from the sky. Rain! The wonder of rain!

  §

  Anna stood behind the wooden partition, toweling her hair. Outside, the rain still fell, but now it could be heard only as a gentle, murmuring patter against the roof. Soon the storm would pass.

  She had changed into a dry, woolen dress of cyan blue, her favorite color, fastened at the waist with a simple cord.

  Folding the towel, she dropped it onto the end of her pallet bed then turned full circle, looking about her. There were books wherever she looked, on shelves and surfaces, and, on the narrow wooden table in the corner, scientific equipment, the polished brasswork gleaming in the lamplight.

  Anna sighed, feeling a real contentment. For the first time in a long, long while, she was happy.

  To be honest, she had never worked so hard, nor felt so good. Before Aitrus had asked her to work with him on the creation of this Age, she had felt useless, but now…

  Now she had a problem.

  Anna sat on the edge of her low bed, staring at the bare earth floor. Perhaps it was the dance. Perhaps it was that glimpse of Aitrus, happy just as she was happy. Was that an illusion? Was it a transient thing? Or could it last?

  And besides…

  There was a knock on the door of the cabin. Anna looked up, startled. It was Aitrus’s habit to spend an hour at this time writing up his journal for the day.

  “Come in.”

  Aitrus stepped inside, his right hand drawing his dark hair back from his brow.

  “I wondered if you were all right.”

  She smiled up at him. “I’m fine. It was only rain.”

  Aitrus stood there a moment, hesitant, not sure just what to say, then: “Would you like a game of Gemedet?”

  “All right.”

  He grinned, then nodded and turned away, returning to the tent to bring the grid. Smiling, Anna stood, then went across to clear a space on the table.

  Gemedet, or six-in-a-line, was the most popular of D’ni games. She had seen a close variant of the game in Tadjinar, played by the Chinese merchants, but the D’ni version was played not on a two-dimensional board but on a complex three-dimensional grid, nine squares to a side.

  It was, she thought, the perfect game for a race embedded in the rock, whose thinking was not lateral but spatial.

  Aitrus returned a moment later, setting the grid down on the table. It was a beautiful thing, of hand-carved lilac jade, as delicate-looking as a honeycomb yet strong. Strong enough to have survived a thousand games without a single chip or blemish.

  The base of the grid was a polished hemisphere of topaz on which the grid revolved smoothly. Long, silver tweezers, called re’dantee, were used to slip the playing pieces into place, while the pieces themselves were simple polished ovoids of green tourmaline and dark red almandine.

  Both the re’dantee and the “stones” were kept in a velvet-lined box, which Aitrus now opened, placing it on the table beside the grid, so that both of them could easily reach it.

  Anna smiled. She had fallen in love with the set at first sight.

  They sat, facing each other across the table. As ever, Anna went first, slipping her first “stone” into place, deep in the heart of the grid, giving herself the maximum of options.

  For an hour or more they played, in total silence, each concentrating on the pattern of the stones. After a while the patter of rain on the roof stopped. Night birds called in the darkness of the woods outside. Inside the game went on beneath the lantern’s light.

  Finally, she saw that she had lost. Aitrus had only to place a single stone in the bottom left-hand corner and there was no way she could stop him making six.

  Anna looked up and saw, by his smile, that he knew.

  “Another game?”

  She shook her head. Was now the time to speak? To tell him what she had been thinking earlier?

  “What is it?” he asked gently.

  Anna looked down. “I’m tired, that’s all.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She gave a single nod. It had been a good day—an almost perfect day—why spoil it?

  “Shall I pack the game away?” he asked, after a moment.

  “No,” she said, looking up at him and smiling; content now that she had decided. �
��I’ll do that in the morning. Besides, I want to see how you managed to beat me.”

  Aitrus grinned. “Experience, that’s all.”

  At that moment, there did not seem to be so many years’ difference in their ages. In human terms, Aitrus was old—as old, almost, as her father—but in D’ni terms he was still a very young man. Why, it was quite likely that he would live another two centuries and more. But was that also why she was afraid to speak of what she felt?

  “I’ll leave you, then,” he said, standing, the lamplight glinting in his fine, dark hair. “Good night. Sleep well, Ah-na.”

  “And you,” she said, standing.

  He smiled. And then he left, leaving her staring at the door, the words she wanted so much to say unsaid, while outside the night birds called, their cries echoing across the darkness of the valley.

  §

  The valley was a deep gash in the surrounding land, cut not by a river but by older, far more violent processes. Bare rock jutted from the slopes on either side, the folded pattern of its strata long exposed to the elements so that the softer rocks had been heavily eroded, leaving great shelves of harder rock. At one end of the valley, in the shadow of a particularly long shelf, were the caves. It was there that they began their survey.

  Anna knew what Aitrus was looking for, and it was not long before he found it.

  “Ah-na! Come here! Look!”

  She went across to where Aitrus was crouched in the deep shadow of the overhang and looked.

  “Well?” he said, looking up at her triumphantly.

  It was old and worn, but there was no doubting what it was. It was the puckered mouth of a diatreme—a volcanic vent—formed long ago by high pressure gases drilling their way through the crustal rocks.

  For the past two days they had kept coming upon signs that there was a volcano somewhere close by. Volcanic deposits had been scattered all about this area, but this was the first vent they had found.

  From the look of it the volcano was an old one, dormant for many centuries.

  “I thought we’d made a stable world.”

  He smiled. “We did. But even stable worlds must be formed. Volcanoes are part of the growing process of an Age. Even the best of worlds must have them!”

  “So where is it?” she asked.

  He stood, then turned, pointing straight through the rock toward the north.

  “There, I’d guess.”

  “Do you want to go and look for it?”

  Aitrus shrugged, then, “If you wouldn’t mind.”

  Anna laughed. “Why should I? It’s a volcano. Our volcano. Our first!”

  He grinned, as if he had not thought of that, then nodded. “Come then. If I’m right, it can’t be far.”

  §

  The caldera was still visible, but time and weather had worn it down. Trees covered its shallow slopes and filled the great bowl of the volcano, but here and there the thin covering of soil gave way to fissures and vents whose darkness hinted at great depths.

  It was old. Far older than they had first thought. Not thousands, but millions of years old.

  It was this part that Anna had taken a little while to grasp. The Ages to which they linked were not made by them, they already existed, for the making of worlds was a process that took not months but long millennia. Aitrus, trying to make things absolutely clear to her, and summed it up thus:

  “These Ages are worlds that do exist, or have existed, or shall. Providing the descriptions fits, there is no limitation of time or space. The link is made regardless.”

  And so, too, this world of theirs, their Age, which they had called Gemedet, after the game. It, too, existed, or had existed, or would. But where it was or when they did not know.

  Not that it mattered most of the time, but on occasion she did wonder just where they were in the night sky, and when—whether at the beginning of the universe or somewhere near the end of that vast process.

  The very thought of it humbled her, made her understand why her father had believed in a Maker who had fashioned it all. Having “written,” having seen the great skill and subtlety involved merely in creating a link to these worlds, she now found herself in awe of the infinite care that had gone into the making of the originals to which their templates linked.

  Personally, she could not believe that blind process had made it all. It was, for her, quite inconceivable, bearing in mind the complexity and variety of life. Yet in this, if nothing else, Aitrus differed from her. His was, or so he claimed, a more rational approach, more scientific—as if understanding the product of such processes were a key to understanding the why of them existing in the first place.

  Aitrus had walked down the tree-strewn slope, making his way between the boulders, until he stood beside one of the larger vents. Resting his chest against the sloping wall of the vent, he leaned out, peering into the darkness. For a moment he was perfectly still, then he turned his head, looking back at her through his D’ni glasses.

  “Shall we go in?”

  Anna smiled. “All right, but we’ll need to bring a rope from the camp.”

  Aitrus grinned. “And lamps, and…”

  “…your notebook.”

  A look of perfect understanding passed between them. It was time to explore the volcano.

  §

  They got back to the encampment three days later than they had planned, to find that a message had been delivered from D’ni. It lay upon the map table in its dark blue waterproof wrapping.

  While Anna began to stow away their equipment, Aitrus broke the seal of the package and took out the letter. He knew it was not urgent—they would have sent a Messenger into the Age to find him if it was—but it was unusual. Unfolding the letter, he squinted at it through the lenses of his glasses. It was from his old friend Kedri, and concerned a query Aitrus had put to him the last time they had met for supper.

  He read it through quickly, then, smiling, he slipped the paper into his tunic pocket.

  “Well?” Anna asked, coming alongside him. “Anything important?”

  “No, but I need to go back.”

  “Should we pack?”

  He shook his head. “No. I only need to be away an hour or two. I’ll go later tonight. You can stay here. I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

  Anna smiled. “You should have a bath when you get back to D’ni.”

  “A bath?” He looked mock-offended. “Are you saying I smell, Ti’ana?”

  “You positively reek of sulphur!” she said, grinning now. “Like Old Beelzebub himself!”

  He smiled at that. In the caves beneath the caldera, she had taught him much about the mythology and gods of the surface, including the demons whom, according to many religions, lived in the regions beneath the earth.

  “If only they knew the reality of it,” she had said. “They’d be amazed.”

  It was then that he had given her her new name—Ti’ana, which in D’ni meant “story-teller,” as well as punning on her surface name. “Do you need me to cook you something before you go?”

  “I’d rather you helped me sort those samples.”

  “All right,” she said, her smile broadening. “I’ll do the tests, you can write up the notes.”

  §

  Aitrus looked about him at the tent. All was neat and orderly. His notebook was open on the small table by his bed, the ink of the latest entry not yet dry. It was time to link back.

  Anna was in her cabin. He would say goodnight to her, then go.

  Aitrus went outside and stepped across to the cabin, knocking softly on the door. Usually she would call out to him, but this time there was nothing. Pushing the door open a little, he saw that she was not at her desk.

  “Ti’ana?” he called softly. “Are you there?”

  As if in answer he heard her soft snoring from behind the thin, wooden partition. Slipping inside, he tiptoed across and, drawing back the curtain, peered in.

  Anna lay on her side on the pallet, facing him, her eyes close
d, her features peaceful in sleep. The long journey back from the valley had clearly exhausted her. He crouched, watching her, drinking in the sight of her. She was so different from the women he had known all his life—those strong yet frail D’ni women with their pale skin and long faces.

  It had been more than two months ago, when they had made their first, and as yet only, journey to the mountains north of the camp. On the way Anna had collected samples of various native flowers for later study. Yet, coming upon the wonder of a snow-covered slope—the first she had ever seen or touched or walked upon—she had taken the blooms from her pocket and scattered their petals over the snow. He had asked her what she was doing, and she had shrugged.

  “I had to,” she had said, staring at him. Then, pointing to the scattered petals, she had bid him look.

  Aitrus closed his eyes, seeing them vividly, their bright shapes and colors starkly contrasted against the purity of the whiteness—like life and death.

  It was then that he had decided, and every moment since had been but a confirmation of that decision—an affirmation of the feeling he had had at that moment, when, looking up from the petals, he had seen her face shining down at him like the sun itself.

  Aitrus opened his eyes and saw that same face occluded now in sleep, like the sun behind clouds, yet beautiful still. The most beautiful he had ever seen. At first he had not thought so, but time had trained his eyes to see her differently. He knew her now.

  Aitrus stretched out his hand, tracing the contours of that sleeping face in the air above it, a feeling of such tenderness pervading him that he found his hand trembling. He drew it back, surprised by the strength of what he felt at that moment. Overwhelming, it was, like the rush of water over a fall.