The Myst Reader (92 page)

“Go on,” said Atrus patiently.

“Well…Master Tamon wishes to lift the wall and save the floor. And I can see why. It’s a very beautiful piece of mosaic. But to do so, we would have to get beneath the floor and prop it up, and that will take days, possibly weeks, of hard work and involve considerable risks for those undertaking the task.”

Atrus nodded. “And your alternative?”

Jenniran glanced at Tamon, then went on. “I say let’s give up the floor. Let’s drop weights on it and smash the whole thing through, then clear up the mess. It will not save up precious days but cut out any risk of injury.”

“But the floor, Atrus! Look at it!”

Atrus looked. He could see only the edges, and they were covered in a fine layer of dust, but he had seen the diagrams of the Guild House and remembered the mosaic well. It would be a great shame to lose it. Then again, Jenniran had a point about the safety element, and the floor
was
badly damaged as it was.

And then there was so much else to do. So much to clear away. So much to repair and make good. Thinking that, Atrus made his decision.

“Can I have a word, Master Tamon?” he said, laying an arm about the older man’s shoulders and turning him away.

 

 

§

 

 

The floor gave with a huge creaking sigh. There was a deafening crash that echoed all about the cavern.

Dust rose in a great choking cloud.

Studying the scene through his visor, Atrus felt a moment’s regret. As the dust began to clear, there was a murmur of surprise from the watching helpers. Something was wrong. The hole was much
deeper
than they had imagined it would be…and longer. Atrus blinked, then raised his visor, staring into what appeared to be some kind of hall beneath the old Guild House, two rows of massive pillars flanking it.

He turned, looking to Tamon.

“Master Tamon…is there anything in the plans?”

Tamon looked mystified. “Nothing. At least, nothing like
that
.”

“The hypocaust…”

But Atrus could see that the ancient heating system that ran beneath the ancient Guild House had collapsed and whatever it was lay
beneath
that.

“Well,” he said, after a moment’s reflection. “I guess we’d best bring lamps and investigate.”

“Go
down
there?” Master Tamon asked.

“Certainly,” Atrus said, intrigued by what he could glimpse within that shadow. “Those pillars seem strong enough.”

“We should check them first.”

“Of course…” Atrus looked about him, calling to this one to bring this, that one to do that—organizing them; being the hub about which they all revolved. Yet even as he orchestrated it all, in his mind he was already down there, poking among the shadows, trying to piece together the mystery.

 

 

§

 

 

“Marrim! Marrim! Come quickly! They’ve found something beneath the Guild House!”

Marrim had turned at the first hearing of her name. Now she set aside the book she had been reading and stood.

“
Beneath
it?”

“Yes,” Irras said, coming up to her, breathless from running, “We…broke through the floor of the old dining hall and there was a chamber underneath it.”

“Well?” he said, after a moment. “Aren’t you going to come and see?”

“I’ve work to do,” she said, and it was true. She was teaching some of the younger children basic D’ni, and she had to prepare the work for tomorrow’s lessons, but this
was
important.

“Okay,” she said. “Just to look. Then I must get back here.”

“Come one then!” And with that, Irras took her hand and half dragged her across the square and beneath the arch, heading for the Guild House.

By the time they got there, a number of ladders had already been lowered into the hole and lamps set up along one side. Atrus, Tamon, and Jenniran stood in a huddle some ten feet away from the overhang, Jenniran holding up a lamp as they stared into the chamber, where several of Tamon’s helpers were checking the pillars for any signs of cracking.

Seeing what was beyond them, Marrim felt a ripple of excitement. It was magnificent, like the entrance hall to a great palace. The walls and pillars appeared to be of beautifully colored marble, and, farther in, the floor looked like a polished mirror.

She was still staring when Esel and Oma hurried up. There was a moment’s stunned silence as they took in the sight, then Oma spoke.

“It
has
to be.”

“Why?” Esel asked.

“Because what else
could
it be?”

“But they’re only stories. You said so yourself.”

“Maybe. But even myths are based on something. And maybe
that’s
the something.”

“What’s that?” Atrus called from below.

“It was in one of my grandfather’s books of D’ni legends,” Oma said, walking over to the edge and addressing Atrus. “There were several mentions of a Great King and of his temple, and of a hall of beautifully colored marble.”

“And you think this might be it?”

“They were only tales,” Esel said apologetically. But Oma shook his head.

“That is exactly how it is described. The two rows of massive pillars. And at the end of the hall there’s a great doorway, surrounded by a circle of stars.”

“So the book says,” Esel quickly added.

Atrus nodded thoughtfully. “All right. Come down, all of you. Let’s see if Oma is right or not.”

 

 

§

 

 

Atrus led the way, under the lip of rock and into the great chamber, his lamp held high, the fire-marble burning with a fierce white light that seemed to emphasize the purity of the colors in the stone.

The rows of pillars on either side of the hall went on endlessly, it seemed, each pillar so huge that to Marrim, walking between them, it seemed as though they walked in the halls of ancient giants. Deep, deep into the rock it went. And then, suddenly, there it was, the far end of the chamber, and there—just where Oma had said it would be—was a huge doorway, set within a great circle of stone, a dozen broad steps leading up to it.

They approached, stopping at the foot of the steps, looking up at that massive doorway.

“Stars…” Atrus said.

“Then this is it,” Tamon, who stood beside him, agreed. “The Temple of the Great King.”

“Maybe he’s inside,” Oma said excitedly. “Maybe this is his tomb. If so…”

Atrus looked to him. “Was there anything else in the tales that we should know about, Oma?”

Oma hesitated, then shook his head. “Nothing that I remember. Only those mentions of the prophecies.”

“Yes,” Marrim said, “but they were in Gehn’s notebook. In view of how much else he wrote was suspect, we can’t be sure that they were all true.”

 

“I agree,” Atrus said. Then, turning to Irras, he added, “Go up and examine it.”

Irras climbed the steps. For a time he was silent, examing the edges of the great door meticulously, then he looked back at Atrus.

“It looks as though there
was
a real door here, at some stage, but it’s been sealed up. And a very efficient job, too, by the look of it.”

Atrus looked to Tamon. “We could
sound
it. If there
is
a chamber behind that, then it will show up on a sounding scan.”

Tamon nodded, suddenly enthusiastic. “There were machines in the Miners’ Guild House. If they’re still there, we could use those.”

Atrus smiled. “Excellent. Then arrange it, Master Tamon. Meanwhile, we’ll set up lamps in here. And Oma…”

“Yes, Atrus?”

“Bring me the book you spoke of. Your grandfather’s book. I would like to read those passages myself.”

 

 

§

 

 

Atrus looked up from the page and frowned. Nothing was clear. Everything was hearsay and rumor. Of dates and names and facts there was nothing. Even so, those two lines where the chamber was described had a powerful effect. They seemed to give some credence to the rest, for if
they
were true…

He felt the soft touch of familiar hands on his shoulders.

“Atrus?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Aren’t you coming?”

“In a moment…” He hesitated, then half turned, looking up at her. “Those passages in my father’s notebook…wasn’t there a mention of a great library?”

“There was. But not in connection with the Great King.”

 

 

§

 

 

It had taken eight of them to haul the capsule up the makeshift tracks and position it on the platform, alongside the door. Now Master Tamon sat at the controls of the large crystalline craft while Jenniran read from the Guild manual.

“Forgive me, Master Tamon,” someone said, pushing through the crowd of watchers at the foot of the steps, “but might I have a word?”

Tamon turned, about to make some bad-tempered comment, when he saw who it was.

“Why, Master Tergahn, I…” Then, “Of course. Come on up. If you know
anything
that might help…”

The old man slowly made his way up the steps until he stood at the rear of the sounding capsule. He looked about him, then nodded to himself. Tamon stood, indicating that Tergahn should take his place. The old man did so, once more looking about him, familiarizing himself with the controls. He gently felt each knob, each switch, recalling their function. Reaching out, he grasped the headphones and pulled them on.

“You know how to operate that, Master Tergahn?” Atrus asked, stepping up.

“We’ll see,” the old man answered without turning; laying one hand gently, respectfully on the long metal shaft of the sounder.

Tergahn closed his eyes, then gently eased the shaft down and to the left, pressing on the pearled handle as he did. At once a single, pure note grew in the air. Yet even as it formed its perfect shape, the tone clear and clean, Tergahn twitched the end of the shaft. At once the note died.

And returned,
changed
from the rock.

Tergahn’s eyes slowly opened. He looked to Tamon, then, nudging the shaft a little to the right, closed his eyes again and gently pushed down on the shaft.

A second note grew, slightly stronger and higher than the first. And once again, even as it formed, Tergahn killed it.

Again there was an echo from the rock. Different this time. Much lower than the sound that had come back the time before.

Atrus watched, closing his eyes each time a note sounded; trying to make out some discernible difference in what came back. And indeed, there did seem to be some kind of pattern to what he was hearing.

Twenty, thirty times Tergahn sent a signal into the rock. Then, finally, he sat back, nodding to himself.

“I’ll need to make more soundings…a lot more…but…” Tergahn swiveled round on the seat. “There is definitely a hollow behind that wall. A void of some kind. But how big it is is much harder to tell. My ear was never trained to make distinctions of that kind.”

Atrus nodded. “We should discuss things and hear all sides before we choose to act. If it’s sealed, there might be a good reason
why
.”

“Wise words,” Tergahn said. “If the D’ni chose to seal that chamber and erase all mention of it from their history, then perhaps they had a reason for doing so.”

“I agree,” Atrus said. “We should discover if anything more is known of the Great King and of the events surrounding the sealing of his Temple. Maybe one or another of our company heard some tale at their mother’s knee that might add to the sum of our knowledge, scant as it is. Until then, we should do nothing rash.

“I shall call a meeting,” Atrus went on. “Tonight. In the meantime, Master Tergahn, if you would continue with your soundings?”

Tergahn nodded, no flicker of emotion in his deeply lined face. “I shall be guessing at best.”

“Then guess your best guess. And if there is anything else you need, give instructions to young Irras here. He can be your legs.”

Tergahn nodded tersely, then turned back, returning to his task.

Atrus watched him a moment, then turned away. “Come,” he said to Catherine, as he began to make his way down the steps. “We have a meeting to arrange.”

 

 

§

 

 

“So,” Atrus began, addressing the small group gathered in his room that evening after the meeting, “it all comes down to hearsay.”

“And what is written in your father’s notebook,” Catherine added.

“Yes,” Atrus said. “And that is little enough.” He paused, then: “Even so, I think we might take a look and see what’s on the other side. But caution must be our byword. Once Master Tergahn has completed his soundings, we shall make a sample drilling and push a scope through and see what’s to be seen.”

“And then?” Carrad asked.

Atrus smiled. “And then, if all is well, we shall breach the seal and go inside.”

 

 

§

 

 

Back at the doorway, Master Tergahn had finished his soundings. As Atrus returned, he was sitting on the bottom step, papers scattered about him, hunched forward over a chart, writing.

Atrus stopped several paces from him. “Master Tergahn?”

The old man looked up, then gestured for Atrus to join him. “See,” he said, indicating the diagram he had been working on. “It seems to go back quite some way, but it’s not very wide. No wider, it would seem, than the circle itself.”

Atrus studied the diagram a moment, then looked up at the circle of stone that surrounded the doorway. “A tunnel, you think?”