waiting figure standing on the flight of winding steps that led up into the rock above.
“ATRUS? ARE YOU AWAKE?”
Atrus lay there, his eyes closed, remembering the dream.
The voice came closer. “Atrus?”
He turned onto his back and stretched. The room was warm, the mattress strangely soft beneath him.
“What is it?” he asked lazily, uncertain yet whether he was awake.
“It is evening now,” the voice, his father’s voice, said. “You have slept a whole day, Atrus. Supper is ready, if you want some.”
Atrus opened his eyes, focusing. Gehn stood there two paces from the bed, a lantern in one hand. In its flickering light the room seemed vast and shadowy.
“Where are we?” he asked, the details of the dream receding as he began to recall the long trek through the caverns.
“We are on K’veer,” Gehn said, stepping closer, his pale, handsome face looming from the shadow. “This will be your room, Atrus. There are clothes in the wardrobes over there if you want to change, but there is no real need. When you are ready, you should turn left outside the door and head toward the light.”
Atrus nodded, then, with a shock, realized that his feet no longer hurt. Nor were they bandaged. “My feet …”
Gehn looked down at him. “I treated them while you were asleep. They will be sore for several days, but you can rest now.”
“And your experiments? Were we in time?”
Gehn turned away, as if he hadn’t heard, then walked across the room, drawing back the heavy curtains to reveal, through a massive, latticed window, the orange glow of the cavern beyond. There was a broad stone balcony and a view of the distant city.
“I shall leave you now,” Gehn said, setting the lantern down on the table beside the bed. “But try not to be too long, Atrus. There are things we need to talk about.”
Atrus waited for his father to leave the room, then sat up, sliding his legs around and examining his feet in the lamp’s light. Where the sores were worst, on his heels and ankles and on the balls of his feet, Gehn had smeared them with an ointment that left a dark stain on the skin. Atrus touched one of the patches gingerly, then sniffed his fingers. It was the same as the ointment his grandmother had always used whenever he’d grazed his knees or shins or elbows on the rock.
Atrus?
Yes, Grandmother?
What do you see, Atrus?
I see the D’ni city, Grandmother. I see …
Atrus stepped out onto the balcony, looking at it, trying to fix it in his memory so that he could tell her when he saw her again.
Far out there was a moving shadow on the water. He narrowed his eyes, watching it a while, then shrugged and looked beyond it at the city once again.
Yes
, he thought.
I see the most incredible sight I’ve ever seen
.
“AH, ATRUS … COME AND SIT WITH ME.”
Atrus hesitated in the doorway, then stepped inside, into the clear blue light of the kitchen. His father sat at a table to his left, a plate of food set before him.
It was a big V-shaped room with two large windows overlooking a stone-paved terrace garden that jutted out over the orange sea. The light outside seemed much darker now, and to compensate, Gehn had placed several lanterns in niches about the room.
Looking about him, Atrus noticed that the kitchen was solid stone. The cupboards, the table, the benches, even the sink and oven, were made of a strange, smooth banded gneiss that, like the path they had followed into D’ni, seemed to have been softened and then molded like clay. Tiny strips of metal, intricately fashioned, were threaded into the black-and-white-striped stone in a manner Atrus found hard to fathom. Though it was stone, it had a light warm feel that was unexpected. How they had managed it was a mystery to him, yet it was clear that the D’ni had developed processes well advanced of the ways of men.
“How do you feel now?” Gehn asked, gesturing for him to take a seat across from him.
How
did
he feel? Homesick, but
“ATRUS? ARE YOU AWAKE?”
Atrus lay there, his eyes closed, remembering the dream.
The voice came closer. “Atrus?”
He turned onto his back and stretched. The room was warm, the mattress strangely soft beneath him.
“What is it?” he asked lazily, uncertain yet whether he was awake.
“It is evening now,” the voice, his father’s voice, said. “You have slept a whole day, Atrus. Supper is ready, if you want some.”
Atrus opened his eyes, focusing. Gehn stood there two paces from the bed, a lantern in one hand. In its flickering light the room seemed vast and shadowy.
“Where are we?” he asked, the details of the dream receding as he began to recall the long trek through the caverns.
“We are on K’veer,” Gehn said, stepping closer, his pale, handsome face looming from the shadow. “This will be your room, Atrus. There are clothes in the wardrobes over there if you want to change, but there is no real need. When you are ready, you should turn left outside the door and head toward the light.”
Atrus nodded, then, with a shock, realized that his feet no longer hurt. Nor were they bandaged. “My feet …”
Gehn looked down at him. “I treated them while you were asleep. They will be sore for several days, but you can rest now.”
“And your experiments? Were we in time?”
Gehn turned away, as if he hadn’t heard, then walked across the room, drawing back the heavy curtains to reveal, through a massive, latticed window, the orange glow of the cavern beyond. There was a broad stone balcony and a view of the distant city.
“I shall leave you now,” Gehn said, setting the lantern down on the table beside the bed. “But try not to be too long, Atrus. There are things we need to talk about.”
Atrus waited for his father to leave the room, then sat up, sliding his legs around and examining his feet in the lamp’s light. Where the sores were worst, on his heels and ankles and on the balls of his feet, Gehn had smeared them with an ointment that left a dark stain on the skin. Atrus touched one of the patches gingerly, then sniffed his fingers. It was the same as the ointment his grandmother had always used whenever he’d grazed his knees or shins or elbows on the rock.
Atrus?
Yes, Grandmother?
What do you see, Atrus?
I see the D’ni city, Grandmother. I see …
Atrus stepped out onto the balcony, looking at it, trying to fix it in his memory so that he could tell her when he saw her again.
Far out there was a moving shadow on the water. He narrowed his eyes, watching it a while, then shrugged and looked beyond it at the city once again.
Yes
, he thought.
I see the most incredible sight I’ve ever seen
.
“AH, ATRUS … COME AND SIT WITH ME.”
Atrus hesitated in the doorway, then stepped inside, into the clear blue light of the kitchen. His father sat at a table to his left, a plate of food set before him.
It was a big V-shaped room with two large windows overlooking a stone-paved terrace garden that jutted out over the orange sea. The light outside seemed much darker now, and to compensate, Gehn had placed several lanterns in niches about the room.
Looking about him, Atrus noticed that the kitchen was solid stone. The cupboards, the table, the benches, even the sink and oven, were made of a strange, smooth banded gneiss that, like the path they had followed into D’ni, seemed to have been softened and then molded like clay. Tiny strips of metal, intricately fashioned, were threaded into the black-and-white-striped stone in a manner Atrus found hard to fathom. Though it was stone, it had a light warm feel that was unexpected. How they had managed it was a mystery to him, yet it was clear that the D’ni had developed processes well advanced of the ways of men.
“How do you feel now?” Gehn asked, gesturing for him to take a seat across from him.
How
did
he feel? Homesick, but
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