The Myst Reader (54 page)

“I don’t follow you, Veovis.”

“He wants you to help me. He thinks you might.”

“And what did you say to him?”

“I said I would speak to you. No more.”

Aitrus laughed. “Come now. No games. Do you want my help or don’t you?”

Veovis smiled. “I’d welcome it. If you’d give it.”

“Then you had better tell me everything.”

 

 

§

 

 

That evening Aitrus did not return to his rooms in the Guild Hall, but went back to the family home in the Jaren District, which was in the upper northeast of the city, overlooking the Park of the Ages. His mother was delighted to see him, but it was his father, Kahlis, he had come to see.

Stepping back from her embrace, Aitrus looked toward the polished stone stairway that led up to the second floor.

“Is Father in his study?”

“He is, but he is very busy, Aitrus. He has a report to finish for the morning.”

Kahlis looked up as Aitrus entered the big, book-lined room, and smiled wearily at him from behind a great stack of papers he was working on. “Ah, Aitrus. How are you?”

“Can I speak with you, Father?”

Kahlis glanced at the paper before him, then, setting his pen back in the inkstand, sat back.

“It is important, I take it?”

Aitrus stepped across and took a seat, facing him. “This matter with the intruder bothers me.”

“How so?”

“I went to see Veovis early this morning. He asked me to call on him at his Guild Hall. His mood was…strange. I asked him what it was, and he said he had been asked to undertake a task, on behalf of the Five, and that he needed my help.”

“And you promised you would help him?”

“Yes.”

“So what exactly is the problem?”

“I do not like what I am doing, Father. I gave my word before I understood what was involved.”

“That is most unlike you, Aitrus.”

“Perhaps. But Veovis is my friend. To refuse him would have been difficult.”

“I understand. But what exactly is it that you find so difficult about the ‘task’ the Five have given you?”

Aitrus stared at his father. “You have heard nothing, then?”

“What ought I to have heard?”

“That the girl now speaks fluent D’ni.”

Kahlis laughed. “You jest with me, Aitrus. Word was she could barely grunt her own name!”

“Then word was wrong.”

Kahlis took that in, his expression sober suddenly. “I see. Then the Hearings will be soon, I take it.”

“That is just it,” Aitrus said. “The Five no longer want to hold such hearings—not before the full Council, anyway. They want the sessions to be held in private, with only themselves in attendance. And they have charged Veovis and myself with the job of persuading members of the Council to that viewpoint.”

Kahlis stared at him. “I am glad you came to me, Aitrus, before any damage could be done. Lord Eneah made a promise to the full Council, and that promise must be upheld.”

Kahlis stood and came around his desk. Aitrus also stood, turning to face his father. “So what will you do?”

“I will go and see Lord Eneah, now, before this matter goes any further. I will tell him that I have heard rumors and that I want his confirmation that they are untrue.”

“Then you will say nothing of my part in this?”

“Of course.” Kahlis held his son’s arms briefly. “Do not worry, Aitrus. I understand the delicacy of your predicament. If Veovis thinks you came to me, he will blame you for whatever trouble follows. But I shall make sure that Lord Eneah does not get that impression.”

“Yet he might guess…”

Kahlis smiled. “Between guessing and knowing is a long dark tunnel. I know it is not in your nature to deceive, Aitrus, but it might be kinder on your friend—yes, and on yourself—if you kept this meeting with me to yourself.”

Aitrus bowed. “I had best go, then.”

“Yes. And Aitrus, thank you. You did the right thing.”

 

 

§

 

 

Lord Eneah was already in bed when his servant knocked on the door.

“Yes, Jedur, what is it?”

A face only a degree or two less ancient than his own poked around the door and stared at him.

“It is Grand Master Kahlis, my Lord. He knows the hour is late, but he begs a meeting. He says it is of the gravest importance.”

Eneah sighed, then slowly sat up. “Ask Master Kahlis to allow me a moment to refresh myself, then I shall come and speak with him.”

“My Lord.” The wizened face disappeared.

Eneah slid his legs around and, throwing back the single cotton cover, put his feet down on the cold stone of the floor. There had been a time when he had enjoyed the luxuries his post had brought him, but nowadays he embraced simplicity in everything.

He walked across to the washstand in the corner of his spartanly-furnished bedroom and, pouring water from a jug into a bowl, washed his face and hands, drying himself with a small cloth.

His cloak of office hung on a peg behind the door. He took it down and pulled it on, buttoning it to the neck.

“There!” he said, smoothing one hand over what remained of his ash white hair, staring at his face in the small mirror he had had placed on the wall only two days ago. “Now let us see what Master Kahlis wants.”

Kahlis was waiting in the study. As Lord Eneah entered the room, he stood hastily, bowing low.

“Forgive me, Lord Eneah…”

Eheah waved the apology away. “What is it, Kahlis? Has it to do with the plans for the new cavern?”

He knew it wasn’t. Kahlis would hardly have got him from his bed for such a matter. No. He knew already what it was. In fact, he had half expected one or other of them to come to see him. The only surprise was that it was so soon.

As Eneah sat, Kahlis stepped forward, standing at the edge of his desk.

“No, my Lord, it has nothing to do with the plans for the new cavern. Rather, it is to do with certain rumors that have been circulating throughout the day.”

“Rumors?” For a moment longer he played innocent, staring back at Kahlis hawkishly. “You wake me to talk of
rumors
, Master Kahlis?”

“I would not have bothered you with such, Lord Eneah, were they not concerned with a matter of the gravest importance.”

“And what matter would this be?”

“The matter of the hearings.” Kahlis hesitated, then. “Word is that the Five wish to hold the hearings in secret, behind locked doors. Is that so, my Lord?”

For the first time, Eneah smiled. “It is so.”

Kahlis, who had clearly steeled himself for a denial, blinked. Then, “Might I ask why, my Lord?”

Eneah gestured to a chair. “Take a seat, Master Kahlis, and I shall try to explain. It might indeed help us were you to understand our thinking on this matter.”

 

 

§

 

 

Aitrus was seated at his desk in the corner of his study, trying to catch up on his work before he left for the Guild House, when there was a sharp rapping on his door. He stood, then went across and opened it. It was Veovis. Brushing past him, Veovis stormed across and threw himself down on the padded bench, his face dark with suppressed anger.

“Have you heard?”

“Heard? Heard what?”

“The Hearings. They are to go ahead, after all. The Five have changed their minds. They will take place a week from now.”

“Before full Council?”

Veovis nodded, but he was not looking at Aitrus; he was staring straight ahead of him, as if recalling the meeting he had just come from. “It is a mistake. I told Lord Eneah it was a mistake. And they will rue it. But he was adamant. A promise is a promise, he said. Well, I would not argue with that, yet circumstances change.”

“You think it might be dangerous, then, to let the girl speak?”

Veovis glanced at him. “Is there any doubt? No, the more I think of it, the more certain I am. The girl has a natural cunning. It is that, more than anything, that has allowed her to master our tongue.”

“You think so?”

“Oh, I know it. And I fear that she will use that same native cunning to try to manipulate the Council. Why, I have heard that she has beguiled several of those who were sent to study her, weedling information from them when they least suspected it. And her audacity!”

Aitrus sat, facing Veovis. “Go on.”

Veovis sat forward, staring down at his hands where they were clenched in his lap. “It seems one of the Linguists, thrown off-guard by her act of youthful innocence, mistakenly mentioned the existence of the
Rehevkor
to her. She, it seems, elicited from him a promise to show her a copy of it.”

“But that is not allowed.”

“Precisely. Which is why a certain Guild Master Haemis has been removed from the study team.”

“Why did you not mention this to me before now?”

“Because I did not know until this morning.”

Aitrus sighed, then shook his head. “You must feel…let down.”

Veovis looked up at him, then nodded.

“So what will you do now?”

“Do?” There was a bitterness now in Veovis’s face that had not been there before. “I can do nothing. I must act the perfect son and sit upon my hands and bite my tongue.”

“Has your father instructed you so?”

“Not in so many words. But how else am I to interpret this?” He shook his head. “But they will rue it, I guarantee you, Aitrus. The girl is cunning.”

“You have seen her?”

“No. And yet I know her by her work. She is a savage, after all, and savages have no morality, only cunning. Her words, I fear, will poison many ears, persuading them to courses they would otherwise have shunned.”

“Then you must set your voice against hers.”

Veovis stared at Aitrus a moment; then, smiling, he nodded. “Yes. Yes, of course. It
must
be so. My voice against hers. Truth against trickery.” And now he grinned. “As ever, you are wisdom itself, Aitrus, yes, and a pillar to me in my despair!”

Veovis stood and came across, and embraced Aitrus. “Here, let me hug you, old friend. I came here despondent and you have filled me with new hope. It shall be as you said. I shall be the voice of reason, a fierce, strong light shining in the darkness.”

Veovis stood back, smiling into Aitrus’s face. “And you, my friend? Will you speak out with me?”

“I shall speak the truth as I see it,” Aitrus said. “I can promise you no more.”

“Then let that be enough. For you will see, Aitrus, I promise you. Do not be blinded by her seeming innocence; think rather of the cunning that lies behind that mask. And as you see, so speak.”

“I shall.”

“Then good. I’ll leave you to your work. And Aitrus?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you. You are the very best of friends.”

 

 

§

 

 

The narrow alleyways of the lower city were crowded with onlookers as the procession made its way up that great slope of fashioned rock toward the Great Hall of the Guilds. A small troupe of the City Guard forced a way through, keeping the more curious from the huge palanquin that eight young guildsmen—Maintainers all—carried between two long poles.

From within the partly curtained palanquin, Anna sat in her chair, looking out at the sea of faces that had gathered to see the so-called outsider taken to the Hearings. Some called out to her in their strange tongue that she had yet to fully master, yet few of them seemed hostile. It was more as if she were a curio, an exotic beast captured in some foreign clime and brought back to be displayed before the court.

Anna looked about her, at the men, women, and children that had gathered simply to stare. There were thousands of them, yet every face had that same strange elongation of the features, that almost-human fineness to the bones that she had slowly grown accustomed to these past six months. Indeed, looking in a mirror last night, it had been her own face she had found strange, and looking now she wondered how they saw her. Did they find her nose and mouth too thick and coarse, her cheekbones much too heavy, too
pronounced
, in her face?

Beyond the gate the crowds thinned out. This was a richer district, the citizens who stood outside their doors dressed opulently now, their curiosity if anything much fiercer than the people of the lower city. And the path, too, was suddenly much broader. A marble path, worn by a million feet to a melted smoothness, winding its way between huge roofless houses that were as different from one another as the houses of the lower city were similar.

Anna noted those differences and nodded inwardly. So it was with societies. For the poor uniformity, of dress and housing, for the rich…well,
anything
. So her father had pointed out to her years ago when she was still a child, his disillusionment with empires at its darkest ebb.

And today she would face the might of this small empire head on. It was a daunting thought, yet the days alone in her cell on the island had prepared her well for this. They could do their worst and she would still be herself, unbroken and unrepentant. For what
should
she repent, except that she lost her way? No, it was as her father had always taught her: If she believed in herself then it did not matter what the greater world thought of her. If she could square her conscience with herself then all was well.

And, thinking that, she heard his voice clearly for the first time in long months, encouraging her; saying what he had always said to her:

Be brave, Anna, but before all, be true to yourself.

She would not flinch away from what lay ahead. Whatever was said, whatever they decided, she would bear herself with pride, no matter what.