It was over. The evidence had been heard, the verdict of the Council unanimously given. It remained now only for the Five Lords to announce the sentence.
The great chamber was hushed as Lord R’hira got to his feet and, stepping from his throne, stood over the kneeling Veovis.
Veovis was chained at hand and foot. His head had been shaved and he wore a simple prison gown of rust red, which showed his bare arms and calves. Seated just behind the kneeling prisoner, looking on attentively, were Aitrus and his wife, Ti’ana, who, because of her part in things, had been allowed to attend this final ceremony.
It was only two weeks since that moment when, to the astonishment of the five great Lords, both Ti’ana and Veovis had linked through into this self-same chamber. Both Aitrus and his wife were now much improved from their wounds. Aitrus sat there with his head bound, Ti’ana with a bandage about her wounded shoulder.
There was a silent tension in the chamber as R’hira looked about him at the seated ranks of guildsmen.
“Veovis,” R’hira said quietly. “You have betrayed the trust of this Council. You have deceived us and stolen from us, destroyed our property, and…yes, murdered our fellow guildsmen. Such behavior is without parallel in all our long history, and it is felt that our sentence ought to reflect that. I therefore declare that you, Veovis, son of Rakeri, Lord of D’ni, shall be taken from here to the steps of the Library and there, at the seventeenth hour, before witnesses, be beheaded for your treachery.”
There was a sharp intake of breath. Beheaded! It was unheard of. But Lord R’hira seemed as hard as granite as he looked about him.
“Such is the decision of the Five Lords. Will anybody speak for the accused?”
It was a traditional request at such moments, when a prisoner had been sentenced, and though this sentence was without recent parallel, it was clear that none among the Five expected anyone to speak.
Anna stood.
“Forgive me, Lord R’hira. I know I am here as a guest of the Council and as such have no right to voice my feelings; even so, I would like to speak in favor of the prisoner.”
R’hira turned, looking to his fellows. There was a moment of eye contact among the ancients and then R’hira turned back.
“If anyone deserves the chance to speak, it is you, Ti’ana, though why you should wish to utter a word in favor of this miscreant is quite beyond my imagining. Step forward.”
At that moment Veovis screamed, “That barbaric animal is going to speak on my behalf?! Never! I won’t allow it!”
“Silence,” R’hira shouted with the pounding of his hand.
Veovis continued in his rage. “She’s a traitor, not one of us! She has breached the sanctity of the D’ni blood! Don’t you see!?”
“Guards, remove him!” R’hira shouted. “Now!”
They dragged the screaming man from the room. Calm returned to the chamber.
Anna stepped out. She bowed to each of the Five in turn, then turned about, facing the ranks of guildsmen.
“My Lords…Guildsmen. I do not wish to play down the severity of what your once-fellow Veovis has been found guilty of. Nor have I reason to feel anything but hatred for the man who tried to kill my husband and, but for a poorly aimed shot, would undoubtedly have killed me. Yet as an outsider, a newcomer to the great empire of D’ni, let me make an observation.
“This great cavern is an island of reason, of rational, considered behavior. You D’ni have developed codes of behavior, ways of dealing with situations, that are the result of thousands of years of experience. The most important of those codes, and the wisest of all, perhaps, is that which deals with those who transgress and step outside the codes. Until now, the D’ni have only rarely taken a life for a life. Until now, you have chosen the path of segregation, of cutting out the bad from your midst and isolating it, as a surgeon might isolate a virus. That, I would argue, is the path of sanity, whereas this…”
Anna paused, as if she could read the objection that was in most of their minds.
“I know what you are thinking. He escaped once. He might well escape again. And the so-called Philosopher, A’Gaeris, is still at large. Such factors must, I agree, come into your thinking. But there is one important factor that has not been considered, and that is precisely why Veovis behaved as he did.”
Anna took something from her pocket and held it up. It was a notebook of some kind.
“I have here a journal—A’Gaeris’s private journal—which I took from his room in the Age from which they launched their attacks on D’ni. Had I not been ill these past few weeks, I might have read it sooner—and then could have laid this before the Council as evidence in Lord Veovis’s favor, for its contents are most revelatory. As it is, I offer it to you now as a plea for clemency.”
Lord R’hira, who had been listening in silence until this moment, now spoke up.
“Forgive me, Ti’ana, but what might that villain A’Gaeris possibly have to say that would excuse the prisoner’s behavior?”
Anna turned, facing him. “It is all here, my Lord, every last part of it, fully documented in A’Gaeris’s own hand. How he planned things; how he forged papers; how he worked through Guildsman Suahrnir to ensnare Lord Veovis into his perverse schemes; even how he manipulated my husband into going to Master Jadaris with what he ‘knew.’
“Whatever he has done since, that first great wrong cannot be denied. Veovis was an innocent man. Think, then, of the bitterness he must have felt in being stripped of all title and incarcerated upon that prison rock. Oh, it is no excuse for what he subsequently did, yet I offer it as explanation.”
Lord R’hira took the book from Anna and read a page or two, blinking from time to time. Then he looked up.
“We must have time to study this, Ti’ana.”
“Of course,” she said, giving him a grateful bow. “But as you study it, my Lord, consider the balance of good and ill that exists in all men, and try to imagine in what circumstances that balance could be tilted either way—toward great good, or toward the kind of behavior Veovis displayed toward the society that spurned him.”
R’hira gave a tiny nod, his eyes smiling at Anna, then he turned, his eyes quickly gauging the response of his fellow Lords. There were nods.
“Very well,” he said, turning back. “The sentence of this Council is set in abeyance until this matter can be fully considered. Until then the prisoner will be placed under constant guard.”
As the meeting broke up and guildsmen began to drift out of the chamber and into the nearby rooms, R’hira came over to Anna.
“I am grateful for your intercession, Ti’ana, yet one thing bothers me. You may be right. Veovis may once have been innocent. Yet that is in the past. If we do not end his life for what he subsequently did, then we have but a single course before us, and that is to incarcerate him for the rest of his natural life. Such a course we tried before…and failed with. What if we fail a second time?”
“Then make sure you do not, Lord R’hira. Make a new and special Age for him, then, once he is safe within that place, burn the book so that no one can help him escape. Vigilance, not vengeance should be your byword.”
R’hira bowed his head, impressed by her words. “Well spoken, Ti’ana.”
She gave a little bow.
“Oh, and Ti’ana…do not worry. Whatever we decide, Veovis will never be allowed his freedom.”
§
A’Gaeris sat at his desk, studying the notebook. The wooden door of the hut was closed, the blinds drawn against the sunlight. From outside came the busy sound of sawing and hammering.
He closed the book then nodded to himself. Standing, he yawned and stretched. He was wearing a simple rust-red gown that fitted tightly at the waist. A pair of D’ni glasses rested atop his freshly shaven head. Walking over to the door, he pulled them down over his eyes, then stepped outside.
Just below the hillock on which the hut stood, in a clearing between the trees, his slaves were hard at work. Already the basic frame of the room had been constructed. Now they were building the seats and shelves and, at the center of it all, the podium.
He walked down, stopping at the edge of the clearing to take out the notebook once again, turning to the page he had been looking at a moment earlier. For a moment he compared Suahrnir’s sketches to the room that was being constructed in the clearing, then he slipped the book away once more. There was no doubting it, Suahrnir had had a good eye. No detail had evaded him. Everything he needed was here. Every measurement.
He began to laugh; a deep, hearty laughter that rolled from his corpulent frame, making the natives glance up at him fearfully before returning to their work.
“But we shall change all that,” he said, as his laughter subsided. “No rules. No guidelines. Nothing but what I want.”
The thought of it sent a tiny shiver up his spine.
“Nothing…but what I want.”
§
The preparations were meticulous.
Four of the guild’s finest Writers were assigned the task of making the new Age; each of them allocated one specific strand of the whole. Working to Lord R’hira’s brief, in copy books that had no power to link, they patiently produced their words, passing on their finished creations to the Grand Master of their Guild, Ja’ir, who, in coordination with Grand Master Jadaris of the Maintainers, compared the texts and made his subtle corrections, ensuring that the resultant Age was consistent and thus stable.
In all a hundred days passed in this fashion. But then it was finally done and, after consultation with Lord R’hira, a blank Book—a Kortee-nea—was taken from the Guild’s Book Room and placed on a desk in a cell at the center of the Hall of the Maintainers. There it was guarded day and night, its pages never out of sight for a single instant as, one by one, the four Writers returned to copy their work into the Book.
By this means the privacy of the Book was maintained, for none of the four had any knowledge of what the other three had written. Only Jadaris and Ja’ir and R’hira, three of the most trustworthy men in the entire empire, knew that.
Meanwhile, in a cell just down the passageway, they placed Veovis, shackled hand and foot, two members of the City Guard with him every moment of the day and night, linked to him by chains of nara, waking and sleeping.
And so the days passed, until the Prison Book was done.
§
At the seventeenth hour on the day of judgment the great bronze bell rang out from the tower above the Hall of the Guild of Maintainers. Far below, in the lowest level of that great labyrinthine building, in the deep shadows of the Room of Punishment, the Great Lords and Grand Masters of D’ni looked on as Veovis, his head unbowed, the cords that had bound his hands and feet cut, stepped over to the podium and faced the open Book.
As the bell rang, Veovis looked about him, no flicker of fear in those pale, intelligent eyes, only, at this final moment, a sense of great dignity. Then, as the final stroke rang out, he placed his hand upon the glowing panel and linked.
As he vanished, a sighing breath seemed to pass through the watching guildsmen. Heads turned, looking to Lord R’hira.
“It is done,” he said quietly. “Master Jadaris…take the Book away and burn it.”
Yet even as he spoke the words there was a faint disturbance of the air before the Book, the faintest blur. For the briefest instant, R’hira thought he glimpsed a figure in a rust-red prison gown, his head shaved bare.
R’hira looked about him, surprised. Was he the only one to have seen it? And what precisely had he seen? An afterimage?
Or was this some flaw in the Book itself? After all, it was rare for a Book to be made by four separate writers, and it was possible that some minor errors had crept into the text.
He frowned, then set the matter from his mind. It was of no importance. All that mattered was that they burned the Book. Then D’ni would be safe.
Master Jadaris stepped up to the podium and, closing the Book, lifted it ceremonially in both hands, then carried it from the room.
They followed, along a passageway and through into the furnace room. Here, since time immemorial, they had burned faulty Books, destroying their failed experiments and shoddy work.
But this was different. This was a world that functioned perfectly.
And so we break our own rules , R’hira thought. And even if it were for a good cause, he still felt the breach as a kind of failure.
This is not the D’ni way. We do not destroy what is healthy.
Yet Ti’ana was right. It was either this or put Veovis to death. And there was no doubt about it now: Veovis had been an innocent man when first they found him guilty and incarcerated him.
R’hira watched as the great oven door was opened and the Book slid in. There was a transparent panel in the door. Through it he could see the gray-blue cover of the Prison Book clearly. R’hira bent slightly, looking on as the oven fired and the flames began to lick the cover of the Book.
§
The months passed swiftly. Things quickly returned to normal. For young Gehn these were strangely happy times—strange, because he had never dared hope to thrive away from his mother’s side.
In his eighth year, on the last day of his first term at the GuildCollege, his father and mother visited him. It was an Open Day, and most of the students’ parents were to be there, but for Gehn it was a very special occasion, for he had been chosen to represent the College and read out a passage from the great history of his guild that spoke of the long tradition of the Guild of Books.
The days of illness, of bullying in the night, and tearful homesickness were long behind Gehn. He had become a strong child, surprisingly tall for his age, and confident in all he did, if never outspoken. Yet he was strangely distant with his mother, as if some part of him had never forgiven her for sending him away. It was thus that he greeted her on this special day, with a respectful distance that might have been expected from any other student meeting the great Ti’ana, but not, perhaps, from her only son.
He bowed formally. “Mother. I am glad you came.”
Anna smiled and briefly held him, but she, too, sensed how things were between them. As she stepped back, Aitrus embraced Gehn.
“Well done, Gehn!” he said, grinning down at his son. “I hear nothing but good from your Guild Masters! I am very proud of you boy. We both are!”
Gehn glanced at his mother. He could see that she was indeed proud of him, yet strangely that mattered very little beside the praise of his father. After all, his father was D’ni—of the blood—and a Council member, too. To have his praise was something. Yet he did not say this openly.
“I try to do my best,” he said, lowering his head with the modesty that was drilled into all students.
“Guild Master Rijahna says you have a promising future, Gehn,” Anna said, her smiled more guarded than his father’s. “Indeed, he has talked to your father of private tuition.”
This was the first Gehn had heard of this. He looked to his father wide-eyed.
“Is that true?”
Aitrus nodded. “If you want it.”
Gehn beamed. “Of course I want it! Who would not? Oh, I ache to be like them, Father! Like the Masters, I mean. To know what they know. To be as they are!”
Aitrus laughed. “I understand that feeling, Gehn, but you must be patient, too.”
Gehn lowered his head again. “Of course.” He calmed, matching his demeanor to a more somber mood. “Thank you. Thank you both. I shall make you proud of me.”
Anna smiled and reached out, ruffling his hair. “We are already proud of you, Gehn. More proud than you could ever imagine.”
§
As Gehn finished the oration, Anna felt the tightness in her stomach vanish, her anxiety replaced by a great uprush of pride. To think he had nearly died—and not once but several times! And now here he was, standing confidently before his peers and Masters—yes, and before a great hall full of parents, too—speaking with real feeling and pride of the great tradition into which he had been born.
She glanced at Aitrus and saw the great beam of a smile on her husband’s face and knew he shared all she felt.
My son.
Oh, it was difficult sometimes. Gehn could be cold and distant, but she put that down to his age, yes, and to other things. It had not been easy for him being of mixed blood. Yet he had come through it all triumphantly.
As Guild Master Rijahna stepped up to the podium, he gave a little bow to Gehn. There was the faintest trace of a smile on his lips, a trace that vanished as he turned to face the audience.
“And now, guildsmen, ladies, if you would like to come through to the refectory…”
But Master Rijahna had barely formed the word when the whole building shook. He looked up, surprised, as if he had imagined it, but from the murmur in the audience, from the way a number of the guildsmen and their ladies had risen to their feet, he was not alone in experiencing that tremor.
It came again, stronger this time, and with it a low rumbling noise. Dust fell from overhead.
Outside, the great bell of D’ni was sounding.
And there were only two reasons for that bell to sound: the death of one of the Five, or a threat to D’ni itself.
Rijahna swallowed back his momentary fear and leaned upon the podium.
“Ladies, guildsmen. Please remain calm.”
He turned, looking to his fellow Masters and to the young pupils, who stared back at him, silent yet clearly afraid.
“It will be all right,” he said quietly, his voice offering them a reassurance he did not feel. “Be calm and follow me outside and all will be well, I promise you. All will be well…”
§
Anna saw it at once as she emerged from the Guild Hall, there on the far side of the great cavern. A great crack had opened in the wall of the cave, and from it spewed a dark cloud of gas.
She looked to Aitrus, as if he might explain it, but from the expression on his face he seemed as dumbfounded as anyone.
“What is it?” she asked, trying not to succumb to the panic that seemed to be spreading among the people all about her. At the sight of the dark cloud some of the women had started screaming and wailing.
“I do not know,” he said, unable to tear his eyes from it, “but it might be best to link away from here, until more is known.”
“But you will be needed, Aitrus…”
He looked to her. “I did not mean myself. You and Gehn. You should take him home, to the mansion, then go to Gemedet. At once. There are provisions there.”
“And you?” she asked, fearing for him suddenly.
He smiled, then kissed her. “I shall come when I can, Ti’ana. But take Gehn straightaway. And look after him.”
“All right. But take care, my love. And come when you can.”
“I shall,” he said, then, turning, he hastened away, heading for the Guild House.
Anna hesitated a moment, watching Aitrus go, an awful feeling filling her at the sight of him making his way through the crowd; then, determined to do as he had asked, she turned, beginning to make her way back up the steps, anxious to find Gehn.
§
Slowly the dark cloud spread, like a mighty veil being drawn across the far side of the cavern. Inch by inch it crept across the lake, edging toward D’ni, and where it touched the surface of the lake, the light from the lake was extinguished.
The light-giving algae were dying, by the look of it; poisoned by the noxious fumes of the cloud.
And it that cloud were to reach out its fingers to D’ni city?
Then they would also die.
The city below was in turmoil. The shrieks of terror and wailing of the desperate were dreadful to hear. There were great queues now at all of the Common Libraries, as people made their way to the safety of the common Ages.
Anna stared across the cavern for a moment longer, horrified, then hurried on, taking Gehn’s hand and pulling him along behind her. There was not far to go now and she was beginning to think about what she would need to pack—journals and books and the like—when the third tremor struck.
It was by far the largest of the three tremors and threw them both from their feet, showering them with dust and debris.
Walls were crumbling now. Buildings were crashing to the ground. Just up ahead of them, the front of one of their neighbors’ mansions tumbled into the alleyway, throwing up a great cloud of dust.
As the tremor faded, Anna lifted herself onto her hands and knees and turned anxiously. But Gehn was fine: He had a small cut on his brow, but it was almost nothing.
“Come on,” she said, getting to her feet then taking his hand again, “before the next one hits.”
But they had barely gone a dozen paces when the whole cavern seemed to resound like a struck gong.
They clung to each other, waiting for the great ceiling to come down on them or the earth to open up beneath them, but despite the mighty roar of falling masonry and cracking walls, they came through untouched.
Indoors, Tasera was waiting for them anxiously.
“Thank the Maker you are here,” she said, relieved to see at least two of her family home safe. “But where is Aitrus?”
“He has gone to the Guild House,” Anna said, more calmly than she felt. “He will come when he can.”
Tasera gave a nod of resignation. “Kahlis went, too, as soon as the first tremor struck. No doubt they will return together.”
Anna nodded, then said, “I need to get one or two things from the study. Take Gehn and link through. I will follow you just as soon as I can. Aitrus said we were to link to Gemedet.”
“Gemedet? But surely Ko’ah would be safer?”
“It was what he said.”
Tasera bowed her head, for once giving in to her daughter-in-law. “Then go quickly, Ti’ana. I shall see you in Gemedet.”
§
Anna slipped the knapsack onto her back, then went out into the corridor. Time was pressing now, but she could not go until she had taken one final look at things. Climbing the stairs, she emerged onto the balcony then hurried over to the rail.
The great city was stretched out below where she stood, layer after layer of ancient stone streets and houses, reaching down to the great circle of the harbor and Kerath’s massive arch. Though it was day, lights burned in most of the houses, for a strange twilight was falling over D’ni as the great cloud spread, its poisonous fumes dousing the lake’s soft glow.
The dark cloud now filled almost half of the cavern, its color now discernible as a filthy brown. The edges of it drifted slowly, in a dreamlike fashion, more like a sluggish liquid than a gas. Even as she watched, wispy brown tendrils of the gas extended about Kerath’s Arch and slowly curled across the surface of the harbor.
And where the gas touched, the algae faded, the bright glow dying like sputtering embers.
The sight of it chilled her.
Where are you, Aitrus? she wondered, looking across to the left, where the Guild House stood, its massive, tiered roof dominating the surrounding Halls. Are you safe, my love?
As if voicing the fear she felt at that moment, a great noise of wailing drifted up from the lower city. Many were safe now, but there were still some—hundreds, maybe more—who had not made it to the Common Libraries and the safety of the Ages. It was they who now faced the coming of the great cloud as it slowly filled the harbor with its roiling darkness, then spilled into the narrow lanes and alleyways that led up from the waterfront.
The Maker help them…
Yet even as she thought it, she caught a glimpse of a guildsmen hurriedly ascending the main street that led between the gates, his cloak streaming behind him as he ran. He was carrying something odd, some kind of cylinder, yet she knew at once who it was.
“Aitrus!” she yelled, waving frantically at him.
He slowed, his head turning, and then he waved back at her, hurrying on again, disappearing briefly behind a row of houses, while far below him, like the breath of fate itself, the dark gas slowly climbed the levels, destroying any living thing it touched.
§
It was raining on Gemedet, a fresh, pure rain that, after the nightmare of the cavern, seemed to wash all stain of it from them as they walked down the slope toward the encampment.
Seeing them step out from among the trees, Gehn stood then ran toward them, hugging his father fiercely. The boy’s hair was slicked back, his clothes soaked, but he seemed not to mind.
Picking him up, Aitrus carried Gehn down the rest of the slope and into the shelter of the cabin. Tasera looked up as they entered, a great beam of a smile lighting her face at the sight of Aitrus. Then, seeing only Anna enter behind him, she frowned.
“Where is your father, Aitrus?”
“In D’ni,” Aitrus answered somberly, slipping the cylinder from his back and balancing it in the corner.
“He stayed?”
“He agreed to. Along with the Five and all the other Grand Masters. It was their plan to go to one of the Guild worlds and there to debate things further.”
“Then he is safe,” she said, relieved.
“For a time,” Aitrus answered, taking the mask from his cloak pocket and placing it on top of the cylinder, the end of it dangling from the great silver nozzle.
“What do you mean?”
Aitrus shrugged. “I mean only that none of us knows yet what has really happened or where the gas is coming from. As for the tremors, there were no early signs in the rock, nor is there any history of such local disturbances.”
“So what are we to do? Stay here?”
“For a time, yes. Until things blow over. I have been ordered to remain here for ten days. At the end of that I am to return to D’ni, wearing the mask and cylinder. Others will return at the same time. If all is well, we shall bring the people back to D’ni.”
“And if it is not?” Tasera asked, her face gaunt.
Aitrus sighed. “Then we stay here…for a time. Until we can make things well again in D’ni.”
§
The air was a horrible, sickly yellow-brown, choking the ancient streets and alleyways, as though a wintry fog had descended upon the great tiered city in the cave. Silent it was, and dark, though not as dark now as at first.
Here and there, at crossroads and at gates, lamps had been set on the top of poles. Huge fire-marbles the size of fists glowed red, or blue, or green behind the thick glass panes of the lamps; yet their lights burned dimly, as though through depths of dark and murky water.
Silent it was, yet in that silence the creaking of a cart could now be heard, along with the shuffle of two men, making their slow way through that subterranean place.
As they came into a pool of dark red light, one could see the airtight masks that encased their heads, linked by strong hoses to the air tanks on their backs. They wore long leather boots and thick gloves that reached to their elbows.
Their cart was loaded high, pale hands and feet jutting lifelessly from the midst of that macabre bundle of rags and bones. Leaning forward, they pushed in silence, sharing the weight without complaint. Ahead, just beyond the lamp, was their destination.
Coming to the foot of the steps, they set the handles of the cart down, then began to unload, taking each body by its wrists and ankles and carrying it up into the semi-darkness of the entrance hall.
Here, too, they had placed lamps, lighting the way into the great Book Room.
It was not their first journey, nor would it be their last. For a full week now they had gone about their task, patiently, unendingly, collecting in the harvest of their sowing.
So many bodies, there were. So much illness and death. It was hard to credit that the gas had undone so many. And then the quakes.
While one held the body propped against the podium, the other took its hand and placed it over the glowing panel of the Book, moving his own hand back as the link was made.
The body shimmered for an instant and was gone.
And so on, endlessly, it seemed. A thousand corpses, maybe more: their dead hands, filled yet with living cells, linking into the Ages; their bodies wracked with illness; rife with the contagion that had swept these mortuary streets.
Looking through their masks at one another, the two men smiled grimly.
“Another, Philosopher?”
“Oh, another, my Lord. Most certainly another.”
The two men laughed; a dark and bitter laughter. And then they returned, to bring another body from the cart. To send another of their dark seeds through into the Ages. Destroying the sanctuaries one at a time: finishing the work they had begun.
§
It was the evening of the ninth day. Tomorrow Aitrus would return to D’ni. As the day ended, they sat on a platform of rock just above the falls, just Anna and Aitrus, looking out over the little world they had made.
The sun, behind them, cast their shadows long across the lush greens of the valley. For a long time they were silent, then Anna spoke.
“What do you think you will find?”
Aitrus plucked a stem of grass and put it to his mouth. Now that it was evening, he had pushed his glasses up onto his brow, but where they had sat about his eyes, his pale flesh was marked with thin red furrows. He shrugged. “Who knows? Yet I fear the worst. I had hoped some message would have come through earlier than this. Or my father…”
Anna reached out, laying her hand softly against his neck. He feared for his father, more than for himself. So it was with Aitrus. It was always others before himself. And that was why, ultimately, she loved him: for that selflessness in him.
“How long will you be?”
Aitrus turned slightly, looking at her. “As long as I am needed.”
“And if you do not return?”
“Then you will stay here.”
She began to shake her head, but he was insistent. “No, Ti’ana. You must do this for me. For me, and for Gehn.”
The mention of Gehn stilled her objections. Aitrus was right. Gehn was still only eight. Losing one parent would be bad enough, but to lose both could prove devastating, even though Tasera would still be here.
She gave the barest nod.
“Good,” Aitrus said, “then let us go back to the encampment. I have much to prepare before I leave.”
§
It was early when Aitrus set off. All farewells had been said; now, as Anna looked on, Gehn cuddled against her, Aitrus pulled on the cylinder, checked it was working properly, then slipped the airtight mask down over his head.
Seeing him thus, Anna felt her stomach tighten with anxiety.
Aitrus turned, waved to them, then turned back, placing his hand against the open Linking Book.
The air about his figure swirled as if it had been transformed into some other substance, then cleared. Aitrus was gone.
Anna shivered. Words could not say the fear she felt at that moment: a dark, instinctive fear for him.
“Be brave, my darling,” she said, looking down at Gehn. “Your father will come back. I promise he will.”
§
Aitrus could hear his own breathing loud within the mask as he linked into the study. He took out the lamp he had brought and, striking the fire-marble, lit it and held it up, looking about him.
Nothing had been disturbed, yet all had been transformed. The gas had gone, but where it had been it had left its residue, coating everything with a thin layer of yellow-brown paste.
The sight of it sickened him to his stomach. Was it all like this, everywhere in D’ni? Had nothing survived untouched?
Outside in the corridor it was all the same, as though some host of demons had repainted everything the same hellish shade. Where his booted feet trod he left long smearing marks upon the floor.
Aitrus swallowed. The air he breathed was clean and pure, yet it seemed tainted somehow by what he saw.
He went down the stairs, into the lower level of the house. Here some of the gas remained, pooled in the corners of rooms. Faint wisps of it drifted slowly through open doorways.
Aitrus watched it a moment. It seemed alive, almost; hideously, maliciously alive.
No sooner had he had the thought, than a second followed. This was no simple chemical mix. He should have known that by the way it had reacted with the algae in the lake. This was biological. It was alive.
He went out again, heading for the front door, then stopped, deciding to douse the lantern, just in case. He did so, letting the darkness embrace him, then he stepped up to the door, finding his way blindly.
Outside it was somewhat lighter, but only comparatively so. Most of the cavern was dark—darker than Aitrus had ever imagined possible—but there were lights, down below him and to his left, not far off if he estimated correctly; approximately where the great Halls of the guilds had once stood.
Had stood. For even in the darkness he could see evidence of the great ruin that had fallen upon D’ni. Between him and the lights, silhouetted against them, was a landscape of fallen houses and toppled walls, as if a giant had trampled his way carelessly across the rooftops.
Aitrus sighed, then began to make his way toward those lights. There would be guildsmen there, he was certain of it. Maybe even his father, Kahlis. They would have news, yes, and schemes to set things right again.
The thought of that cheered him. He was D’ni, after all!
Aitrus stopped and, taking out the lantern, lit it again. Then, holding it up before him, he began to make his way through the ruin of the streets and lanes, heading for the Guild House.
§
The Guild House was empty. Its great doors, which had once been proudly guarded, were now wide open. It had been built well and had withstood the ravages of the great quakes that had struck the city, yet all about it was a scene of devastation that had taken Aitrus’s breath. There was barely a building that had not been damaged.
And everywhere the sickly yellow-brown residue of the gas.
Aitrus stood in the great Council chamber, facing the five thrones, his lantern held up before him. It was here that he had left his father. Here that he had made his promise to return on the tenth day. So where were they all? Had they been and gone? Or had they never come?
There was one sure and certain way to find out.
He walked through, into one of the tiny rooms that lay behind the great chamber. There, open on the desk, was a Linking Book. As all else, it was covered with the pastelike residue, yet the glow of the linking panel could be glimpsed. Though a thin layer of the paste covered the glowing rectangle, a hand print could be clearly seen upon it.
Some had linked after the gas had settled.
Aitrus went across and, using the sleeve of his cloak, wiped the right-hand page clean. At once the glow came clear. If the Five Lords and his father were anywhere, they were there, in that Age.
He doused the lantern and stowed it, then placed his hand upon the panel. He linked.
At once Aitrus found himself in a low cave. Sunlight filtered in from an entrance just above him. He could hear birdsong and the lulling noise of the sea washing against the shoreline.
He sighed, relieved. All was well.
Releasing the clamp at the side of his mask, he eased it up, taking a deep gulp of the refreshing air, then, reaching behind him, switched off the air supply. He would need it when he returned to D’ni.
Quickly he climbed the twist of steps that had been cut into the side of the cave wall, pausing only to take out his glasses and slip them on. Then, his spirits raised, he stepped out, into the sunlight.
The buildings were just below him, at the end of a long grassy slope. They blazed white in the sunlight, their perfect domes and arches blending with the green of the surrounding wood, the deep blue of the shimmering sea that surrounded the island.
They would be inside the Great Library, of course, debating what to do. That was why they were delayed, why they had not come. Even so, Aitrus was surprised that they had not set a guard by the Linking Book.
He stopped dead, blinking, taking that in.
There would have been a guard. There always was a guard. In fact, he had never come here, before now, without there being a guard in the cave.
Something was wrong.
Aitrus drew his dagger then walked on, listening for any sound. Coming around the side of the library, he slowed. The silence was strange, unnatural. The great wooden door was open. Inside the room was shadowy dark.
The elders of D’ni sat in their seats about the chamber, thirty, maybe forty in all. In the darkness they seemed to be resting, yet their stillness was not the stillness of sleep.
Slipping his dagger back into its sheath, Aitrus took out his lamp and lit it, then stepped into the chamber.
In the glow of the lantern he could see the dreadful truth of things. They were dead, every last one of them, dead, their faces pulled back, he chins slightly raised, as if in some final exhalation.
Aitrus shuddered, then turned.
“Father…”
Kahlis sat in a chair close by the door, his back to the sunlight spilling in from outside. His hands rested on the arms of the chair, almost casually it seemed, yet the fingers gripped the wood tightly and the face had that same stiffness in it that all the other faces had, as if they had been caught suddenly and unawares by some invisible enemy.
Aitrus groaned and sank down to his knees, his head lowered before his father. For a long while he remained so. Then, slowly, he raised his head again.
“What in the Maker’s name has happened here?”
Aitrus turned, looking up into the masked face of the newcomer. The man was standing in the doorway, the sunlight behind him. He was wearing the purple cloak of the Guild of Ink-Makers, but Aitrus could not make out his features clearly in the gloom.
“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 jaw 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 was 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.
Hi 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.
§
That 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 be 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 o 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.
Anna sat there for a long time afterward, staring into space. Gehn was asleep in the corner. Aitrus lay nearby, his shallow breathing barely audible. In this one room was her whole world—all that mattered to her, anyway—and it was slowly falling apart about her.
Just as before , she thought, real despair touching her for he first time.
She stood up abruptly then crossed the room, picking up the bag Aitrus had brought back with him from D’ni. She had been busy until now even to remember it, but now she sat down and rummaged through it.
Here was his journal, that he kept with him at all times.
Lighting a lamp, she opened the notebook and began to leaf through it, stopping finally at a series of maps and diagrams Aitrus had made. The first were of the tunnels leading to the cavern where the machines were and, beyond it, several miles distant, the Lodge. Aitrus had added to this map, drawing thick dark lines across a number of the tunnels. It was clear that they were blocked. Indeed, looking at the map, she saw that there was no access to the surface by this route. On the next page was another map, but this one ended in dead-ends and white, unfilled space.
Anna looked up, understanding. Aitrus had spent the last week or so tramping through the tunnels, trying to find a route for their escape, spending his precious energies so that they might find a safe way to the surface.
Aitrus was dying, she knew that now for certain. Yet even at the end he had been true. Even at the end he had thought of others before himself. Of her, and Gehn.
She looked back at the journal. The next map was different—much more complex than the others. It extended over several pages.
Anna smiled, appreciating what he had done here. Elevations, rock-types, physical details—all were noted down. It was a real labyrinth, but Aitrus had done his best to make each twist and turn as clear as he could. She traced the zigzag line of it with her finger over several pages, then looked up, laughing softly.
The volcano! It came out at the old dormant volcano where her father and she had used to stop on their way to Tadjinar.
She smiled and spoke softly to the air. “You did well, my love.”
“Did I?”
His voice, so unexpected, startled her. She turned to find him sitting up, watching her.
“Aitrus?”
“We have to go.”
Anna blinked. You are dying, she thought. You are not going anywhere. But he was insistent.
“You must pack, Ti’ana. Now, while there is still time.”
“Time for what?”
“I am coming with you,” he said, then coughed. “Back to D’ni. I will help you find the way.”
“But you are ill, Aitrus.”
In answer he threw back the sheet and, steadying himself against the wall with one hand, slowly stood. His eyes looked to her imploringly. “I must do this, Ti’ana. Do you understand that?”
She stared at him, her fear and love for him mixed violently at that moment, and then she nodded. “I understand.”
§
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.
They 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.”
“God?”
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.”
§
The city was receding now. In an hour he would be back in K’veer. A’Gaeris turned from the sight and looked back at his captives where they lay at the bottom of the boat.
He would have killed them there and then, at the harbor’s edge, and thought nothing of it, but the woman had betrayed the fact that her husband was still abroad.
And so, he would use them as his bait. And once he had Aitrus, he would destroy all three of them, for he had not the sentimental streak that had ruined his once-companion, Veovis.
“He will not come for us, you know.”
A’Gaeris looked down at the woman disdainfully. “Of course he’ll come. The man’s a sentimental fool. He came before, didn’t he?”
“But not this time. He’ll wait for you. In D’ni.”
“While you and your son are my captives?” A’Gaeris laughed. “Why, he will be out of his mind with worry, don’t you think?”
He saw how that silenced her. Yes, with the two of them safe in a cell on K’veer he could go back and settle things with Guildsman Aitrus once and for all.
For there was only one boat in all of D’ni now, and he had it.
“No,” he said finally. “He’ll wait there at the harbor until I bring the boat back. And then I’ll have him. Oh yes, Ti’ana. You can be certain of it!”
§
The first Book had linked him to a room in the great house on Nidur Gemat, filled with Veovis’s things. There, after a brief search, he found the second Book that linked to this, more familiar room on the island of K’veer, a place he had often come in better times.
Aitrus stood there a moment, leaning heavily against the desk, a bone-deep weariness making his head spin. Then, knowing he had less than an hour to make his preparations, he looked about him.
The Book with the emerald green cover was on a table in the far corner of the room, beside a stack of other, older Books. Going across to them, Aitrus felt a sudden despair, thinking of what had been done here. So much endeavor had come to naught, here in this room. And for what reason? Envy? Revenge? Or was it simple malice?
Was A’Gaeris mad?
Aitrus groaned, thinking of the end to which Veovis had come. Then, determined to make one final, meaningful effort, he lifted the Book and carried it back over to the desk.
There he sat, opening the Book and reading through the first few pages. After a while he lifted his head, nodding to himself. Here it was, nakedly displayed: what Veovis might, in time, have become; a great Master among Masters, as great, perhaps, as the legendary Ri’Neref.
He began to cough, a hacking, debilitating cough, then put his fingers to his lips. There was blood there now. He, too, was dying.
Taking a cloth from his pocket, Aitrus wiped his mouth and then began, dipping the pen and scoring out essential phrases and adding in others at the end of the book. Trimming and pruning this most perfect of Ages. Preparing it.
And all the while he thought of Anna and of Gehn, and prayed silently that they would be all right.
§
A’Gaeris climbed the steps of the harbor at K’veer, Anna and the boy just in front of him, goaded on by the point of his knife.
At the top he paused and, grasping the loose ends of the ropes by which their hands were bound, wrapped them tightly about his left hand. Then, leading the two behind him like a pair of hounds, he went inside the mansion.
K’veer had not been untouched by the tremors, and parts of its impressive architecture had cracked and fallen away into the surrounding lake, yet enough of it remained for it to be recognizable. Anna, who had wondered where they were going, now felt a sense of resignation descend on her.
If Veovis was here then there was nothing Aitrus could do.
Anna glanced at her son. Gehn’s face was closed, his eyes sullen, as if this latest twist were no more than could be expected. Yet he was bearing up, for all his trials, and she felt a strange twinge of pride in him for that.
She was about to speak, when she caught the scent of burning. A’Gaeris, too, must have noticed it at the same moment, for he stopped suddenly and frowned.
For a moment he sniffed the air, as if he had been mistaken, then, with a bellow, he began to hurriedly climb the stairs, dragging them along after him.
As they approached the Book Room the smell of burning grew and grew until, at a turn in the stairs, they could see the flickering glow of a fire up ahead of them.
A’Gaeris roared. “My Books!”
For a moment, as he tugged at the rope, Anna almost fell, but she kept her footing. Gehn did, however. She heard his cry and saw that A’Gaeris had let go of the rope that held him. But there was no time to see if he was all right. The next instant she found herself behind A’Gaeris in the doorway to the Book Room. Beyond him the room was brilliantly lit. Smoke bellowed from a stack of burning Books. And just to one side of the flaming pile—a Book in one hand, a flaming torch in the other—stood Aitrus.
A’Gaeris slammed the great door shut behind him, then took a step toward Aitrus, yet even as he did, Aitrus raised the torch and called to him:
“Come any closer and I’ll burn the rest of your Books, A’Gaeris! I know where they are. I’ve seen them. In the cabin on the south island. I linked there. I can link there now, unless…”
Anna felt A’Gaeris’s hand reach out and grasp her roughly, and then his arm was about her neck, the dagger raised, its point beneath her neck.
“I have your wife, Aitrus. Go near those Books and I shall kill her.”
“Kill her and I shall destroy your Books. I’ll link through and put them to the torch. And what will you have then, Master Philosopher? Nothing. Not now that you’ve killed Veovis.”
Anna could feel A’Gaeris trembling with anger. Any false move and she would be dead.
“Give me that Book,” he said once more in a low growl. “Give it to me, or Ti’ana dies.”
Aitrus was smiling now. He lifted the Book slightly. “This is a masterful work. I know Veovis was proud of it.”
A’Gaeris stared at Aitrus. “It was called Ederat.”
“No,” Aitrus said, his eyes meeting Anna’s. “Veovis had another name for it. He called it Be-el-ze-bub.”
Anna caught her breath. She stared at him, loving him more in that instant than she had ever loved him.
I love you , she mouthed.
Aitrus answered her with his eyes.
“Well?” he asked, returning his attention to A’Gaeris. “Do we have a deal? The Book—and all those Books within—for my wife?”
But A’Gaeris simply laughed.
Aitrus lowered the torch. His eyes went to the cover of the Book, then, with a final loving look at Anna, he placed the hand that held the burning torch upon the glowing panel.
A’Gaeris howled. Thrusting Anna away from him he ran across the room.
“Aitrus!” she yelled as his figure shimmered and vanished. “Aitrus!”
But he was gone. The great Book fell with a thud to the floor beside the burning stack.
A’Gaeris threw himself at it in unseemly haste and almost wrenched the cover from the spine forcing it open.
Anna watched, her heart in her throat as, his chest heaving, A’Gaeris looked across at her and, with a smile that was half snarl, placed his hand against the descriptive panel and linked.
§
Even as he linked into the cave, A’Gaeris stumbled, doubling up in pain. The air was burning, the reek of sulphur choking. The first breath seared his lungs. Putting out an arm, A’Gaeris staggered forward, howling, looking about him desperately for the Linking Book back to D’ni. Yet even as he did, a great crack appeared in the floor of the cavern. The heat intensified. There was a glimpse of brilliant orange-redness, one stark moment of realization, and then the rock slab on which he stood tilted forward, A’Gaeris’s shrill cry of surprise cut off as he tumbled into the molten flow.
And then silence. The primal, unheard silence of the great cauldron of creation.
§
Anna cried quietly, crouching over the green-covered Book and studying the glowing image there.
For a moment or two there was the temptation to follow him: to end it all, just as Aitrus had. Then someone hammered on the Book Room door.
It brought her back to herself. Gehn.
Anna turned to face the smoldering pile of ashes that had once been D’ni Books, then dropped the green-covered Book upon the rest. Sparks scattered. A cloud of smoke wafted up toward the high ceiling of the room. A moment later, flames began to lick the burnished leather of the cover.
For a moment she simply stared, feeling the gap there now where the other book of her life had been, just as Tasera had described it. Then, getting to her feet again, she turned, even as the knocking came again, more urgently this time, and began to walk across.