The Myst Reader

by Robyn Miller

  “It’s some kind of virus,” he began, then, seeing that the other made to unmask himself, shook his head. “No! Keep that on!”

  The guildsman let his hand fall away from the strap, then looked about him. “Are they all dead?” he asked, a note of hopelessness entering his voice.

  “Yes,” Aitrus answered bleakly. “Or so it seems.”

  THE GRAVE WAS NEW, THE EARTH FRESHLY turned. Nearby, as if surprised, a guard lay on his back, dead, his hands gripping each other as if they fought, his jaws tightly clenched.

  Aitrus stared at the guard a moment, then, looking to his fellow guildsman, Jiladis, he picked up the spade once more and began to dig, shoveling the last of the dark earth back into the hole. They really were all dead—guildsmen and guards, servants and natives. Not one had survived the plague, if plague it was.

  And himself? Was he now infected with it?

  The last book of commentary told the tale. They had found it open on a desk in one of the other buildings, its scribe, an ancient of two hundred years or more, slumped over it. The body had come through a week ago, only two days after the evacuation of D’ni. They had burned it, naturally, but the damage had been done.

  “What will you do?” Jiladis asked, his voice muted through the mask he still wore.

  “I suppose I will go back,” Aitrus answered. “To D’ni, anyway.”

  And there was the problem. If he was infected, he could not go back to Gemedet, for he could not risk infecting Gehn and Anna and his mother. Yet was it fair not to let them know what had happened here?

  Besides which, he needed to get back, now that he knew what was happening, for he had to return to the mansion and get the Linking Book. Gemedet at least would then be safe.

  If he was not already too late.

  “I shall come with you,” Jiladis said finally. “There’s nothing here.”

  Aitrus nodded, then looked up at the open sky and at the sun winking fiercely down at him.

  The surface. He could always make his way to the surface.

  Yes. But what about any others who had survived? Could he persuade Jiladis, for instance, that his future lay on the surface?

  Aitrus set the spade aside, then knelt, murmuring the D’ni words of parting over the grave. Then, standing again, he made his own, more informal farewell.

  “Goodbye, my father. May you find peace in the next Age, and may Yavo, the Maker, receive your soul.”

  Aitrus lingered awhile, his eyes closed as he remembered the best of his father. Then he turned and slowly walked away, making his way back to the linking cave, Jiladis following slowly after.

  THE DOOR TO THE FAMILY BOOK ROOM HAD been smashed open, the shelves of the room ransacked. On the podium the Book of Ko’ah lay open, its pages smeared, a clear handprint over the panel.

  Aitrus stared at it in shock.

  Signs of desecration were everywhere—smeared footprints in the hallways and in almost every room—but had they gone upstairs.

  His heart almost in his mouth, Aitrus slipped and skidded up the stairs in his haste.

  His workroom was at the far end of the corridor. Footsteps led along the corridor toward it. Aitrus stopped dead, staring at them in horror.

  So they had been here, too.

  In the doorway he paused, looking about him. A circle of footprints went halfway into the room then came away.

  He frowned, not understanding, then rushed across the room. The Book of Gemedet was where he had left it on the desk. The open pages were undisturbed, the thin layer of pasty residue untouched.

  Aitrus sighed with relief. Taking a clean cloth from a drawer, he cleaned the cover carefully, then tucked it into the knapsack beside the other things he had packed for the journey.

  He had taken extra cylinders from the Hall of the Guild of Miners and food from the sealed vaults in the Hall of the Caterers—enough for an eight-day journey.

  If he had eight days.

  And Anna? Would she keep her word? Would she stay in Gemedet and not try to come after him? He hoped so. For if she linked here, there would be no linking back for her. Not to Gemedet, anyway, for the book would be with him, and he was going to the surface.

  Aitrus went to the front door and looked out across the darkness of the cavern.

  He had seen them, yesterday, on his return, or thought he did: the ghostly figures of A’Gaeris and Veovis, pushing their cart of death. And, seeing them, he had known that nowhere was safe from them: not in D’ni, anyway, nor in any of the linked Ages.

  If he and Anna and the boy were to have any kind of life, it would have to be up there, on the surface. But were the tunnels still open? Or had the great quakes that had flattened so much in D’ni destroyed them also?

  He would have to go and see for himself. If he lived that long. If sickness did not take him on the journey.

  IT WAS THE EVENING OF THE SIXTEENTH day, and Anna sat at Gehn’s bedside, listening to his gentle snores in the shadows of the room. A book of D’ni tales lay beside her, facedown where she had put it. Worn out by a day of playing in the woods, Gehn had fallen asleep even as she read to him. Not that she minded. Anything that took his mind off his father’s prolonged absence was welcome, and it was good to see him sleep so deeply and peacefully.

  Leaning across, she kissed his brow, then stood and went outside. The stars were out now, bright against the sable backdrop of the sky. Anna yawned and stretched. She had barely slept this past week. Each day she expected him back, and each day, when he did not come, she feared the very worst.

  Tasera, she knew, felt it almost as keenly as she did; maybe more so, for she, after all, had both a husband and a son who were missing; yet Tasera found it much easier to cope with than she did, for she was D’ni and had that rocklike D’ni stoicism. Had it been a thousand days, Tasera would have waited still, patient to the last.

  Am I so impatient, then? Anna asked herself, walking over to the rock at the head of the valley.

  She smiled, knowing what Aitrus would have said. It was the difference in their life expectancy, or so he argued. She was a short fuse and burned fast, while he …

  Come back, she pleaded silently, looking out into the star-filled night. Wherever you are—whenever you are—come back to me, Aitrus.

  If they had to spend the rest of their years on Gemedet, she would be content, if only she could be with him.

  And if that is not your fate?

  It was her father’s voice. It was a long time since she had heard that voice—a long, long time since she had needed the comfort of it.

  He has been a good man to you, Anna.

  “Yes,” she said quietly, speaking to the air. “I could not have wished for a better partner.”

  But now you must learn to be alone.

  She blinked. There was such certainty in that voice. “No,” she said, after a moment. “He will come back. He promised, and he always keeps his promises.”

  The voice was silent.

  “Ti’ana?”

  Anna started, then turned. Tasera was standing not ten paces from her, just below her on the slope. She must have been walking down by the stream. Coming closer, Tasera looked at her and frowned.

  “Who were you talking to?”

  Anna looked aside, then answered her honestly. “I was speaking to my father.”

  “Ah …” Tasera stepped closer, so that Anna could see her eyes clearly in the half-light. “And what did he say?”

  “He said I must learn to be alone.”

  Tasera watched her a moment, then nodded. “I fear it might be so.”

  “But I thought …”

  “Kahlis is not there. I cannot feel him anymore. No matter where he was, no matter when, he was always there, with me. So it is when you have lived with a man a century and more. But suddenly there is a gap—an absence, if you like. He is not there anymore. Something has happened to him.”

  Tasera fell silent.

  “I did not know. I thought …” Anna frowned. What had she
thought? That only she felt like that? That only she and he were related to each other in that strange, nonphysical manner? No. For how could that possibly be? Even so, sometimes it felt as if they were the books of each other—to which each one linked. And when one of those books was destroyed, what then? Would there no longer be a connection? Would there only be a gap, an awful, yawning abyss?

  The thought of it terrified her. To be that alone.

  “I am sorry, Tasera,” Anna said finally. “I do hope you are wrong.”

  “And I,” Tasera said, reaching out to take her hands. “And I.”

  AITRUS WOKE. THE DARKNESS IN HIS HEAD was matched by the darkness in which he lay. It was damp and cold and his whole body ached, yet the air was fresher than he remembered it.

  He put his hand up to his face, surprised. The mask …

  And then he remembered. The air had given out. He had had to take off the mask or suffocate. And that was when he had linked—linked back to Gemedet.

  Aitrus lay there a while, letting his eyes grow accustomed to the darkness of the cave. It had to be night outside, for not a trace of sunlight filtered down from above. He listened, straining to hear some sound, but it was hard to know whether he was imagining it or not. For eight days now he had known nothing but silence. The awful, echoing silence of the rock.

  All of his life, he realized now, there had been noises all about him—the faint murmur of the great fans that brought the air into the caverns, or the dull concussion from a mining rig, busy excavating in the deep; the noises of the city itself, or of boats out on the lake; the bells that sounded out each hour of every day, and the normal noises of the household all about him. Such sounds had formed the continuum of his existence, ceaseless and unnoticed. Until now.

  Now death had come to D’ni. Yes, and to every part of its once great empire. Even in the tunnels he had found the dead—Miners at their work, or Maintainers, whose job it was to patrol the great perimeter.

  Yes, and he had even found the source of death: the great machine that had proved D’ni’s bane. In one of the lower caverns he had come upon it, its huge canisters empty now. They had used such machines in the Guild of Surveyors, to provide air for tricky excavations, or before a regular supply could be pumped up from D’ni itself. But Veovis had used it to pump poisons back into D’ni, letting D’ni’s own circulatory system distribute it to every tiny niche.

  Even had they switched the great fans down, which eventually they did, it would have proved a bleak choice: to suffocate from lack of air, or die of the poisonous bacteria that that same air carried.

  It was not until he saw the machine that he knew for sure; not until then that he knew Anna had been wrong to intercede.

  It is not her fault, he kept telling himself; she was not to know. Yet it was hard to see it otherwise. All of this death, all of this vast suffering and misery, was down to a single man, Veovis. For all that A’Gaeris had been a willing partner, it was Veovis’s bitterness, his anger and desire for revenge, that had been behind this final, futile act. And if he had been dead?

  Then my father would yet be alive. And Lord R’hira. And Master Jadaris. And Jerahl …

  Aitrus sat up, shaking his head, but the darkness kept coming back. Ti’ana is to blame. My darling wife, Ti’ana.

  “No!”

  Outside a bird flapped away between the trees.

  It was the first natural sound he had heard in days.

  Aitrus sniffed the air. It smelled sweet. He could still smell the rubber of the mask upon his face, but this air was different. It lacked the strange metallic taste of the air he had grown accustomed to.

  Slowly, almost stumblingly, he climbed up, until he stood at the mouth of the cave, looking down through the trees toward the encampment. It seemed empty, deserted, but then it was late.

  He sighed. I ought to wash, he thought. More than that, I ought to burn these clothes, or bury them. Just in case …

  In truth, he ought not to have come. Indeed, he would not have come but for the fact that lack of air had addled his brain. But now that he was back he would make the best of things.

  At least the Linking Book was relatively safe; though who knew how thorough Veovis would be? If he chose to search the tunnels, then he might come upon it, lying there, and then even Gemedet would not be safe.

  The thought of it petrified him.

  He had the urge to cough. Stifling it, he turned, looking up beyond the cave. If he remembered correctly, there was a path that led up and to the left, curving across to the head of the falls. He would find a place up there and bury the suit, then wash himself.

  And then he would come back here, naked, the bearer of ill news, to face his mother and his wife.

  THEY HAD FOUND AITRUS UP BY THE POOL, beside the waterfall, his body bathed in sweat, his eyes staring. Getting two servants to carry him, they had brought him back to the encampment and laid him on the bed. Then, for the next three days, Tasera and Anna took turns tending him, bathing his brow, and holding his hand while the fever raged on.

  On the morning of the fourth day he finally woke. Anna had been sleeping in the tent nearby when Gehn came and shook her.

  “Mother! Mother! Father is awake!”

  She hurried across to the cabin to find Aitrus awake, his eyes clear and lucid. Tasera sat beside him, smiling and holding his hand. He looked weak, but he was alive, and seeing Anna, a faint smile came to his lips.

  “Ti’ana …”

  His voice was little more than a breath.

  “Do not talk,” she said, going over to kneel beside the bed and take his hand.

  “I must,” he said, the words the faintest whisper.

  “No,” she said. “You must rest. You must get back your strength.”

  But Aitrus shook his head. “I am dying, Ti’ana. I know it. But I have been given this moment and I must use it.”

  He paused, coughing a little, then continued, his voice wavering a little.

  “They are dead. Everyone … dead. My father … I buried him. And D’ni … D’ni is ended. But there is a way out. Through the tunnels. I mapped it. My notebook …”

  “Yes, yes,” Anna said, impatiently. “But you must rest now, Aitrus, please.”

  For a moment his eyes blinked closed. With an effort he opened them again, his eyes looking to Anna pleadingly. “You must go, Ti’ana. Please. Promise me you will go. You are not safe here …”

  “Why? Why aren’t we safe here?”

  But Aitrus had drifted into sleep again. His head had fallen back and his breathing was shallow.

  “Let him sleep,” Tasera said, looking to Anna, as if concern for her boy was the only thing in the universe; yet Anna could see that Aitrus’s news had shocked her. Indeed, it had shocked them both. Then, suddenly, she remembered Gehn.

  She whirled about. Gehn was standing in the doorway, staring, his face aghast.

  “It isn’t true,” he said, his voice tiny. “Tell me it isn’t true!”

  But she could not lie, and as he saw it in her face, so that look returned: a look of purest horror. Turning, he fled.

  “Gehn!” she cried, going to the doorway. “Gehn! Come back!”

  But Gehn was already at the edge of the wood. With the barest glance back, he disappeared among the trees.

  Anna turned back, looking to Tasera, but Tasera was not there. Her eyes seemed distant and hollow now and her shoulders sagged, as if her son’s soft words—so quiet, so insubstantial—had broken her. Even as Anna looked, a tear trickled down Tasera’s cheek and fell.

  Gone. All of it gone. But how was that possible? Surely some had survived?

  She stared at Aitrus, wondering what else he had not told her. Why was this Age not safe? Why?

  “Tell me, Aitrus,” she said quietly. “Please tell me.”

  But Aitrus did not answer her.

  AFTERNOON TASERA TOOK TO HER BED, COMPLAINING of a migraine. Anna, thinking it had to do with Kahlis’s death, decided it was best to leave her b
e to grieve. Having made certain Tasera was comfortable, she went to see if she could find where Gehn had got to. There was no sign of him. But when she returned two hours later it was to find that Tasera had worsened considerably.

  Not only that, but the two servants who had helped carry Aitrus down from the pool were now displaying the exact same symptoms he had shown. They had been suffering from minor stomach pains for days, but now both of them had gone down with a full-blown fever.

  As the afternoon became evening, Anna began to grow worried. Aitrus still showed no sign of waking, yet it was for Tasera she was most concerned, for she had slipped into a fretful, fevered sleep. Then, just after sundown, Anna went to check on the two servants, whom she had placed nearby in the storage tent, and found that one of them had died.

  She was standing there, outside the tent, when Gehn wandered back into the camp.

  “Gehn?”

  Gehn did not even glance at her, but walked on past her, going inside the cabin.

  Anna walked across. Gehn was sitting in a corner, in the darkness, staring at his father’s reclining form. She watched him a moment, her heart going out to him. Then, taking the lantern from the side, she struck the fire-marble, closed the plate, and hung it on the hook overhead.

  In its sudden glow she could see that Gehn had been crying.

  “Gehn? Are you all right?”

  He turned his head and looked at her, coldly, sullenly, then looked away.

  “Two of the servants are ill,” she said quietly.

  Gehn made no gesture, no response. He simply stared at his father.

  “Gehn … we must think of leaving here.”

  But Gehn was like a statue, his child’s face hard and cold as it stared at his dying father.

  THAT NIGHT THE REST OF THE SERVANTS RAN away. While Gehn slept, Anna sat beside Tasera, bathing her face and holding her hand. Yet in the early hours of morning, Aitrus’s mother convulsed and died.