The Myst Reader (98 page)

PACKING THE LAST FEW THINGS INTO THE
bag, Anna slipped it onto her back and went outside, into the sunlight. Gehn was just below her, standing beside his father, supporting him, as they looked down at Tasera’s grave.

Anna sighed, then walked across. Gehn was wearing the suit she had made for him and the mask lay loose about his neck. His own knapsack was on his back.

“Are you ready?”

Both Gehn and Aitrus looked to her and nodded. Then, on impulse, Gehn ran down the slope and, bending, leaned out over the edge.

Anna looked to Aitrus and frowned, wondering what he was doing, but in a moment Gehn was back, holding out a tiny sheath of white flowers for her to take. Two other bunches were in his other hand.

She took them from him, then, knowing what he intended, cast the flowers onto Tasera’s grave and stepped back, allowing Gehn and Aitrus to do the same.

“Farewell, dear Mother,” Aitrus said, looking out past the mound at the beauty of the valley. “You will be with me always.”

Gehn stood there a moment, then, bowing his head, scattered the flowers and said his own farewell: “Goodbye, Grandmother. May we meet again in the next Age.”

Anna blinked, surprised. He seemed to have grown up so much these past few weeks. She put out her hand to him.

“Come, Gehn. We must go now.”

Gehn hesitated a moment, then, with a glance at his father, reached out and took her hand. Anna gave it a little squeeze, then, turning from the grave, began to climb the slope, heading for the linking cave, Aitrus following behind.

IT WAS THE TWENTY-SECOND DAY AFTER THE
fall.

Anna stood beside Aitrus on the balcony of the mansion, Gehn in front of her, her arms about his shoulders as they looked out over the ruins of D’ni. To her surprise the air had proved clean, and after several tests in the workroom, they had decided to remove their masks. There was no trace now of the gas that had wreaked such havoc, though its residue remained, like a dried crust over everything. Moreover, someone had reactivated the great fans that brought the air into the cavern, and the algae of the lake had recovered enough to give off a faint, almost twilight glow. In that faint illumination they could see the extent of the devastation.

The sight was desolate beyond all words. What had once been the most magnificent of cities was now a mausoleum, an empty, echoing shell of its former glory.

She could feel Gehn trembling and knew that he was close to tears. All that he had ever known lay within the compass of his sight. His shattered hopes and dreams were here displayed, naked to the eye. Why, even the great rock that stood in the very midst of the lake had split, like wood before the axe.

“Come,” she said gently, meeting Aitrus’s eyes. “Let us go from here.”

Walking down through the dead streets, their sense of desolation grew. Barely a house stood without great cracks in its walls; barely a wall or gate remained undamaged. From time to time the rubble of a house would block their way and they were forced to backtrack, but eventually they came out by the harbor’s edge.

The great statues that had once lined the harbor wall were cracked or fallen. The great merchant fleet that once had anchored here now rested on the harbor’s floor. They could see their long shadows thirty, forty feet below the surface.

Anna turned, looking about her. There was no sign anywhere of a boat, and they needed a boat. Without one there was no chance of getting across the lake.

“There are boathouses to the east of the harbor,” Aitrus said, “down by the lake’s edge. There will be barges there.”

But the boathouses were burned, the barges smashed. Someone had made sure they could not get across. Aitrus sighed and sat, his remaining strength almost spent.

“I’ll go and look,” Anna said, gesturing to Gehn that he should sit with his father and take care of him. “There must be something.”

In a moment she was back, her eyes shining. “There is!” she said. “One boat. A small thing, but big enough for us three.”

Aitrus’s eyes came up, suspicion in them. “Was it tied up?”

She nodded, then frowned. “What is it?”

But Aitrus merely shook his head. “Nothing. Let us go at once.”

Gehn helped his father stand, then supported him as they made their way toward where the boat was moored. They were not halfway across when a fearful cry rang out from the lower city at their backs.

All three of them turned, shocked by the sudden sound.

It came again.

Aitrus looked to his wife. “Go to the boat, Ti’ana. Take Gehn and wait there for me. It might be Jiladis.”

“But Aitrus …”

“Go to the boat. I’ll join you in a while.”

Anna hesitated, reluctant to let him go, yet she knew that this, too, was his duty—to help his fellow guildsmen if in need. Taking Gehn’s hand she led him away, but all the while she kept glancing back at Aitrus, watching as he slowly crossed the open harbor front, then disappeared into one of the narrow alleyways.

“Come, Gehn,” she said. “Let us secure the boat for when your father returns.”

AITRUS LEANED AGAINST THE WALL, DOUBLED
up, getting his breath. The pain in his limbs and in his stomach was growing worse and he felt close now to exhaustion. Moreover, he was lost. Or, at least, he had no idea just where the sounds had come from. He had thought it was from somewhere in this locality, but now that he was here there was nothing. The deserted streets were silent.

Across from him a sign hung over the shadowed door of a tavern. There were no words, but the picture could be glimpsed, even through the layer of gray-brown residue. It showed a white, segmented worm, burrowing blindly through the rock. The sight of it made him frown, as if at some vague, vestigial memory. The Blind Worm. Where had he heard mention of that before?

Aitrus straightened, looking up. The windows of the upper story were open, the shutters thrown back.

Even as he looked, there came a loud, distinctive groan.

So he had not been wrong. Whoever it was, they were up there, in that second-floor room.

Aitrus crossed the street then slowly pushed the door open, listening. The groan came again. A set of narrow stairs led up to his right. They were smeared, as if many feet had used them. Cautiously, looking about him all the while, he slipped inside and began to climb them, careful to make no noise.

He was almost at the top when from the room above came a grunt and then another pained groan. Something creaked.

Aitrus stopped then turned his head, looking up into the open doorway just behind him, beyond the turn in the stairs.

A soft, scraping noise came from the room, and then a tiny gasp of pain. That sound released Aitrus. Finding new reserves of energy, he hurried up the final steps.

Standing in the doorway, he gasped, astonished by the sight that met his eyes.

It was a long, low-ceilinged room, with windows overlooking the harbor. In the center of the room a table was overturned and all three chairs. Blood smeared the floor surrounding them, trailing away across the room. And at the end of that trail of blood, attempting to pull himself up onto the window ledge, was Veovis, the broad blade of a butcher’s cleaver buried deep in his upper back.

“Veovis!”

But Veovis seemed unaware of his presence. His fingers clutched at the stone ledge as his feet tried to push himself up, his face set in an expression of grim determination.

Horrified, Aitrus rushed halfway across the room, yet even as he did, Veovis collapsed and fell back, groaning.

Aitrus knelt over him.

“Veovis … Veovis, it is Aitrus. What happened here?”

There was a movement in Veovis’s face. His eyes blinked and then he seemed to focus on Aitrus’s face. And with that came recognition.

“What happened?”

Veovis laughed, then coughed. Blood was on his lips. His voice, when he spoke, came raggedly, between pained breaths.

“My colleague and I … we had a little …
disagreement.
”

The ironic smile was pained.

“A’Gaeris?”

Veovis closed his eyes then gave the faintest nod.

“And you fought?”

Veovis’s eyes flickered open. “It was no fight … He …” Veovis swallowed painfully. “He stabbed me … when my back was turned.”

Veovis grimaced, fighting for his breath. Aitrus thought he was going to die, right there and then, but slowly Veovis’s breathing normalized again and his eyes focused on Aitrus once more.

“I would not do it.”

“What? What wouldn’t you do?”

“The Age he wanted … I would not write it.” A tiny spasm ran through Veovis. Aitrus gripped him.

“Tell me,” he said. “I need to know.”

Veovis almost smiled. “And I need to tell you.”

He swallowed again, then. “He wanted a special place … a place where we could be gods.”

“Gods?”

Veovis nodded.

It was the ultimate heresy, the ultimate misuse of the great Art: to mistake Writing, the ability to link with preexistent worlds, with true creation. And at the end, Veovis, it seemed, had refused to step over that final line. He looked up at Aitrus now.

Aitrus blinked. Suddenly, the image of his workroom had come to his mind—the trail of footprints leading halfway to the Book but no farther.

“Was that you?” he asked softly. “In my workroom, I mean.”

Veovis took two long breaths, then nodded.

“But why? After all you did, why let
us
live?”

“Because she spoke out for me. Because … she said there was good in me … And she was right … even at the end.”

Veovis closed his eyes momentarily, the pain overwhelming him, then he continued, struggling now to get the words out before there were no more words.

“It was as if there was a dark cloud in my head, poisoning my thoughts. I felt …” Veovis groaned, “nothing. Nothing but hatred, anyway. Blind hatred. Of everything and everyone.”

There was a shout, from outside. Carefully laying Veovis down, he went to the window and looked out, what he saw filling him with dismay.

“What is it?” Veovis asked from below him.

Out on the lake a single boat was heading out toward the distant islands. Standing at its stern, steering it, was the distinctive figure of A’Gaeris. And before him in the boat, laying on the bare planks, their hands and feet bound, were Anna and Gehn.

“It’s A’Gaeris,” he said quietly. “He has Ti’ana and my son.”

“Then you must save her, Aitrus.”

Aitrus gave a bleak cry. “How? A’Gaeris has the only boat, and I am too weak to swim.”

“Then
link
there.”

Aitrus turned and looked down at the dying man. “Where is he taking them?”

Veovis looked up at him, his eyes clear now, as if he had passed beyond all pain. “To K’veer. That’s where we are based. That’s where all the Books are now. We’ve been collecting them. Hundreds of them. Some are in the Book Room, but most are on the Age I made for him. They are in the cabin on the south island. That’s where you link to. The Book of that Age is in my study.”

Aitrus knelt over Veovis again. “I understand. But how does that help me? That’s in K’veer. How do I get
there?
”

In answer, Veovis gestured toward his left breast. There was a deep pocket there, and something in it. Aitrus reached inside and took out a slender book.

“He did not know I had this,” Veovis said, smiling now. “It links to Nidur Gemat. There is a Book there that links directly to my study on K’veer. You can use them to get to the island before he does.”

Aitrus stared at the Book a moment, then looked back at Veovis.

Veovis met his eyes. “Do you
still
not trust me, Aitrus! Then listen. The Book I mentioned. It has a green cover. It is there that A’Gaeris plans to go. It is there that you might trap him. You understand?”

Aitrus hesitated a moment, then, “I will trust you, for I have no choice, and perhaps there
is
some good in you at the last.”