The Myst Reader (62 page)

Her eyes, their dark pupils still disturbingly strange after all this time, stared back at him. “The book you mentioned … the
Rehevkor
… Might I see a copy of it?”

The question disconcerted him. He had not meant to tell her about the D’ni lexicon. It was their brief to tell her as little as possible about D’ni ways. But she was such a good pupil that he had relaxed his guard.

“That will not be easy, Ah-na. I would have to get permission from the Council for such a step.”

“Permission?”

Haemis looked down, embarrassed. “I should not, perhaps, tell you this, but … I should not have mentioned the existence of the
Rehevkor
to you. It was a slip. If my fellow Masters should discover it …”

“You would be in trouble?”

He nodded, then looked up. Anna was watching him earnestly.

“Then I will say nothing more, Master Haemis.”

“Thank you, Ah-na.”

“Not at all,” she said softly. “You have been very kind to me.”

He gave a little nod, embarrassed once more, not knowing quite what to say, but she broke the silence.

“Will you answer me one thing, Master Haemis?”

“If I can.”

“What do they think of me? Your fellow Masters, I mean. What do they
really
think of me?”

It was a strange and unexpected question. He had not thought it would have bothered her.

“To be honest, most of them saw you at first as some kind of grinning primitive animal.”

Haemis glanced at her and saw how she digested that fact; saw how thoughtful it made her look.

“And you, Master Haemis? What did
you
think?”

He could not look at her. Even so, there was something about her that compelled his honesty. “I thought no differently.”

She was quiet a moment, then, “Thank you, Master Haemis.”

Haemis swallowed, then, finding the courage to look at her again, said quietly, “I do not think so now.”

“I know.”

“I … I will speak for you at the Hearings, if you wish.”

Anna smiled. “Once more, your kindness does you great credit, Master Haemis. But I must speak for myself when the time comes. Else they, too, will think me but an animal, no?”

Haemis nodded, impressed by her bearing, by the strength that seemed to underlie every aspect of her nature.

“I shall ask,” he said quietly.

“Ask?” She stared at him, not understanding.

“About the
Rehevkor
.”

“But you said …”

“It does not matter,” Haemis said, realizing that for once it mattered very little beside her good opinion of him. “Besides, we cannot have you going unprepared before the Council, can we, Ah-na?”

ANNA STOOD BY THE WINDOW OF HER CELL
, looking out across the cavern she had been told was called Irrat. The bleakness of the view did little to raise her spirits. The sill into which the great iron bars were set was four feet thick, the view itself of rock and yet more rock, only one small, rust red pool creating a focal point of contrast in that iron gray landscape.

Master Haemis had been kind to her today, and she sensed that maybe he was even her friend, yet he was only one among many. For all his small kindnesses, she was still alone here, still a prisoner in this strange, twilight world where the days were thirty hours long and the seasons unchanging.

Anna sighed, a rare despondency descending upon her. She had tried her best to learn their language and find out something that might help her—she had even enjoyed that task—yet where she was or who these people were she still did not know.

She turned, looking across at the door. Like all else here it was made of stone. Her bed was a stone pallet, cut into the rock of the wall. Likewise, a small shelf-table had been cut from the stone. On the bed was a thin blanket, folded into squares, and a pillow; on the table was a jug of water and a bowl.

Anna walked across and sat on the edge of the stone pallet, her hands clenched together between her knees. For a time she sat there, staring blankly at the floor, then she looked up.

The door had opened silently, unnoticed by her. An elderly man now stood there; tall, dignified, in a long dark cloak edged with the same shade of burgundy the guards who had captured her had worn.

His eyes, like theirs, were pale. His face, like theirs, was tautly fleshed, the bone structure extremely fine, as if made of the most delicate porcelain. His long, gray-white hair, like theirs, was brushed back neatly from a high, pale brow.

But he was old. Far older than any of those she had so far seen. She could see the centuries piled up behind that thin-lipped mouth, those pale, cold eyes.

She waited, expecting him to talk, but he merely looked at her, then, as if he had seen enough, glanced around the cell. Behind him, in the half shadows of the passageway, stood Master Haemis and one of the guards. He took a step toward the door. As he did, Anna stood, finding her voice.

“Forgive me, sir, but might I draw you?”

He turned back, a look of surprise in those pale, clear eyes.

“My sketch pad,” she said. “It was in my knapsack, together with my charcoal sticks. It would help me pass the time if I had them.”

There was the slightest narrowing of his eyes, then he turned and left the cell. The door swung silently shut.

Anna sat again, feeling more depressed than ever. She had seen the unfeeling coldness in the old man’s face and sensed that her fate had been sealed in that brief moment when he had looked at her.

“So what now?”

She spoke the words quietly, as if afraid they would be overheard, yet she had little more to fear now. She let her head fall, for an instant or two sinking down into a kind of stupor where she did not need to think. But then the image of the old man’s face returned to her.

She recalled his surprise, that narrowing of the eyes, and wondered if she had somehow made a brief connection with him.

“Miss?”

Anna looked up, surprised to be spoken to after so lengthy a silence. Again there had been no warning of the woman’s presence before she had spoken.

“Here,” the woman said, stepping across and placing a tray onto the table at Anna’s side. The smell of hot soup and fresh-baked bread wafted across to Anna, making her mouth water.

As the woman stepped back, Anna stood, surprised to see that instead of the usual sparse fare, this time the tray was filled with all manner of foods; a tumbler of bright red drink, another of milk, a small granary loaf. And more.

Anna turned to thank the woman, but she was gone. A guard now stood there in the doorway, expressionless, holding something out to her. It was her sketch pad and her charcoals.

Astonished, she took them from him, nodding her head in thanks. She had asked a hundred times, but no one had listened to her. Until now.

The door closed behind the woman.

Anna put her things down, then, taking the tray onto her lap, began to eat.

He listened, yes, but what does that mean?

Was this simply the courtesy they extended to every prisoner? And was this to be her life henceforth, incarcerated in this bleak stone cell?

And if so, could she endure that?

At least she had the sketch pad now. She could use the back of it, perhaps, to write down all her thoughts and observations, something she had sorely missed these past six months. And then there were always the sessions with Master Haemis to look forward to—her struggles with that strange, delightful language.

For a moment she sat there, perfectly still, the food in her mouth unchewed. That face—the old man’s face. If she could draw
that
, then maybe she would begin to understand just who he was and what he wanted of her. For the secret was there, in the features of a man, or so her mother had once said.

Stone-faced, he’d seemed. Yet if she could chip the surface stone away and see what lay behind.

Anna set the tray back on the table, then yawned, feeling suddenly tired, in need of sleep.

She would make the sketch later, when she woke.

Unfolding the blanket, Anna stretched out on the pallet and lay it over her, closing her eyes. In a moment she was asleep.

THE CAPTAIN PAUSED A MOMENT, STUDYING
the sketch, impressed despite himself that she had captured the old man’s face so perfectly. Then, closing the sketch pad, he turned and handed it to her, before pointing toward the open doorway.

“Come. It’s time to go.”

Gathering up her charcoals, Anna tucked them into her pocket, then looked across at him. “Where are you taking me?”

He did not answer, merely gestured toward the door.

Anna stepped outside, letting the guards fall in, two to the front of her, two just behind. This time, however, no one bound her hands.

As the captain emerged, they came smartly to attention, then set off at a march, Anna in their midst, hurrying to keep pace.

A long stairway led down through solid rock, ending in a massive gateway, the stone door of which had been raised into a broad black slit in the ceiling overhead. They passed beneath it and out onto a great slab of rock, still within the cavern yet outside the stone keep in which Anna had been kept. She looked back at it, surprised by the brutality of its construction.

They slowed. Just ahead, the rock fell away almost vertically into a chasm on three sides, a chain bridge spanning that massive gap, linking the fortress to a circular archway carved into the far wall of the cavern. Stepping out onto the bridge, Anna looked down, noting the huge machines that seemed to squat like black-limbed fishermen beside dark fissures in the earth. Machines, no doubt, like those she had found up near the surface. There were buildings down there, too, and chimneys and huge piles of excavated rock, like a giant’s building blocks, all far below the narrow, swaying bridge. She was not afraid of heights, nor of falling, but even if she had, the guards would have paid no heed. They moved on relentlessly, nudging her when she was not quick enough.

The arch in the far wall proved to be ornamental. Just beyond the great carved hoop of stone lay a wall of solid rock; black marble, polished smooth. She thought perhaps they would stop, but the captain marched on, as if he would walk straight through the rock itself.

As they passed beneath the arch, however, he turned abruptly to the right, into deep shadow. More steps led down. At the foot of them was a door. As he unlocked it, Anna looked to the captain, wanting to ask him where they were taking her and what would happen there, but he was like a machine, distant and impersonal, programmed to carry out his tasks efficiently and silently, his men mute copies of himself, each face expressionless.

She understood. They did not like her. Nor did they wish to take the chance of liking her.

Beyond the door the passage zigzagged through the rock, small cresset lamps set into the stone. And then they were “outside” again, in another cavern.

Anna stepped out, looking about her. A great bluff of rock lay to her right, obscuring the view. To her left, just below her and about a hundred yards or so away, a broad coil of water cut its way through a steep-sided chasm. It was not as dark here as in the first cavern. She did not understand that at first. Then, to her surprise, she saw how the water gave off a steady glow that underlit everything.

They went down the bare, rocky slope, then along a path that led to a stone jetty. There, at the foot of a flight of steep, black basalt steps, a long, dark, elegant boat was anchored, the chasm walls towering above it. Four burgundy-cloaked oarsmen waited patiently on their bench seats, their oars shipped. A burgundy-colored banner hung limply from the stern of the boat, beside the ornamental cabin, a strangely intricate symbol emblazoned in gold in its center. Anna stared at it as she clambered aboard, intrigued by its complexity.

“Where are we?” she asked.

The captain turned to her, giving her a cold, hard look, his eyes suspicious of her. For a moment she thought he would not answer her, then, curtly, he said:

“We are in D’ni. This is the main cavern.”