Chapter 6
Dear sisters,
I have not written! O, however shall I atone? I ache, ACHE to see you both. Yesterday the Refectory served spirulina pie. I courageously helped myself to a plateful in the hopes of feeling at home, but I must confess I liked it just as little as I did when Father cooked it.
I absolutely thrill to think of us reuniting at the School of Inspiration’s gala on the fourth day of the Second Perishing Tide. I am to be a featured performer! I know you, E., will fret and complain and say you dare not leave the house, but of course you must, and perhaps Sophy might have some difficulty arranging transport from the Ridge, but surely the Chancellors could not say no?
I can’t keep it in any longer. Allow me to announce my engagement! We shall be very happy together. Alas – my time runs short. Fondest farewells!
Scholar Artistry “Arvist” Cidnosin
Dear Arvist,
Is this some new kind of performance art? Please advise.
Your sister,
E. (and also Sophy, most likely, because I imagine her reaction will be much the same as mine!)
P.S. I have, at this point, sent you no fewer than seven letters inquiring about the unusual installation that you (according to Seliara) placed in our undergarden. Have you truly not received my communications? I am anxious for clarification!
Dear Sophy!
I apologise for writing to you again – there is no pressure for you to respond, I promise! I know you are incredibly busy (and also hope that you are safe and well). And YET—
I assume that by the time you read this, you will have also read that – I would call it a “letter”, but I think “pure nonsense captured in pen-and-ink form” might be more apt – well, that announcement, anyway, from our brother. Who in all the seas decided to bind their life to HIM? At this point, absolutely anything seems possible – perhaps the oceans shall dry and leave us surrounded by nothing but immeasurable canyons and dying fish gulping at air! Perhaps you shall become a famous painter! Perhaps I will be betrothed next! (No, let’s not stretch the boundaries of possibility that far.)
O how I wish you were here to share in the perplexity and giggle over this whole affair with me. (And in the utterly unlikely event that you were granted shore leave long enough to attend Arvist’s… function, I would brave even the greatest crowds of the Atoll Campus myself just to see you!)
Yours breathlessly,
E.
P.S. I desperately wish that Arvist would respond to my queries about the mysterious “bowl”/Structure/whatever it may be. I cannot stop thinking about it, and the more that I ruminate about the fact that he produced it without my knowledge, the more my thoughts race about other things that I have missed. I have checked the house thoroughly each day ever since, as I might have mentioned, but I continue to feel overwhelmed with worry and feel convinced that because I am apparently so oblivious to what is happening in my own garden I have somehow missed the telltale signs of some other kind of damage to the house and I lose myself in thoughts of how the windows may burst and Mother’s beautiful lattice-work coloured-glass designs will be lost forever as I drown, all because I was not paying close enough attention. I have written to Dr Lyelle, but I find myself fretting that she will only receive my letter long after I have already perished due to my own foolish errors.
Other than that, all is well!
Dear, dear E.!
Firstly! Clearly our brother is engaged to Seliara, is he not? Whom else could it possibly be? Perhaps her love of Linguistic Alchemy softened her resolve to find the perfect partner.
Arvist’s asinine display of spectacle makes me wish to contrive a way of stealing the spotlight. O, if only I could announce an engagement! (I mean, I suppose I could if I deigned to encourage the affections of Schr Vincenebras, who greets me with a florid compliment whenever our paths cross.)
Regardless of our brother’s flamboyant insensitivity, E., it pains me to see you suffering. I never know exactly what to say – I cannot use logic to argue with that part of your brain that tells you these things, just as you cannot.
But o, an idea has come to me! Since I am not there to help you prove scientifically that there is nothing wrong with the House – and because you seem to be particularly bold these days about writing to scholars! – I might suggest that you reach out to Mother’s old Architect friend Schr Alestarre (dear old Jeime – do you remember?). It’s been too long since we saw her, anyway!
I know you are also wary of inviting strangers into our home, but she’s not truly a stranger, and she had such a gentle demeanour and proved extraordinarily kind to us as children (though I was but very small then – I imagine you might have even more memories of her). At any rate, you could write and say that you would love for her to inspect the premises for damage – because we have lacked a true Architect’s opinion since we lost Mother – and perhaps she may relieve your worries. In fact, I might even go so far as to strongly recommend that you invite Jeime over, but that choice remains yours to make.
Perhaps your mood has lifted even more since you responded to Scholar Clel’s letter, as I assume you have by now? I can hardly count the number of times I have tried to convince you that occasional conversation with a kindred spirit can cure most ills.
I suspect you will consider what I will write next to be an ill itself, so I am even more eager for you to distract yourself with a budding friendship.
The objectively good news first: our first few dives outside of the station were incredibly successful. I began the arduous process of measuring and surveying the contours of the seafloor that surrounds us, Irye engaged in all manner of sonic experimentation, and even Ylaret (who finally took her turn after kindly sitting out the first dive!) cannot cease her chattering about the relationships between currents and constellations. I thought Eliniea would be especially elated, as she’s been swimming after an impressive variety of ferocious fish with great enthusiasm, but I sense that she is troubled.
Perhaps Eliniea worries about the next stage in our investigation, which she presented to the team earlier this morning. She missed our regular breakfast engagement, but I cannot fault her – she had much to prepare! At the behest of Chancellor Rawsel, Eliniea recommended we depart the Spheres for a multi-day “field study” – we will not return to the station until the middle of next tide. The object of such an enterprise, Eliniea told us, is to gain a greater sense of what the Ridge is like in a particular surrounding radius… and I must admit that it will help my Wayfinding project immensely!
To enable each of us to research independently, we will not take the capsule: instead, we will simply set off in our diving gear and spend the evenings in what Eliniea refers to as—a “Bubble”? It is rather like a portable depth-craft, if you can imagine such a thing. It can be stored in one’s pack and then “assembled” in the manner of a dry-tent when one reaches an intended destination. I remain most anxious to see how it works! We shall swim until we grow weary, set up shelter where we can, and rest in the middle of the abyss until we can travel further.
I cannot say I am especially keen on this journey. The experience of being suspended in these fathomless waters – protected by nothing but the second skin of the diving suit – is like no other. It is silent, save for the crackling of our audio communicators and the pulsing of that all-too fragile equipment that keeps us alive. The abject darkness makes the water feel heavier than usual – or perhaps that is simply the incomprehensible amount of pressure against which our suits fortunately guard us – and I fear that if I were to close my eyes and really think about where I am, I would collapse under the weight of it all. On each of our dives so far, I partnered with Eliniea due to the exceptional brightness of her organism-attracting lamps: they streak the shadows with a rainbow array of coloured light, bringing me some comfort. The creatures that dance into her beams are small, opportunistic ones – little fish with bulging, unseeing eyes, shrimp with dazzling carapaces, and all manner of miniature monsters that no one save Eliniea ever studied before.
It comforts me less to think of the larger specimens that may, one day, swim near us, seduced by those lights just like their smaller prey…
O, E., do not trouble yourself – I am simply being overdramatic to entertain you, just like Arvist telling eerie stories when Mother and Father were away of an evening! Really, I look forward to our journey – an adventure like no other.
I promise to write to you as soon as I can. In fact, I intend to bring some writing materials with me and will jot down my thoughts on a nightly basis when we are safely ensconced in our “Bubbles”, and then send you the whole saga when we return! It saddens me to think of missing letters from you for such a long period of time, and especially when so much is afoot in the Deep House!
Take care of yourself, please remember to sleep, and do not allow thoughts of me or Arvist or anyone else to burden you.
Yours in anticipation,
Sophy
P.S. For your continued entertainment, I have attached a copy of our second public communication. Going forward, I shall strive not to speak overmuch of Schr Vincenebras in my letters, simply because he does more than enough of that for himself in these missives… (He does lift our spirits, though, in his ridiculous way. I cannot help but feel affection for him. For all my colleagues, really.)
Dear Colleagues,
If my long absence troubled you in any way, take heart! – your Crew has been well and in the highest of spirits (which is rather paradoxical, considering that our depth-position makes us about as practically low as one can get).
In the days since our auspicious arrival, our exceptional team settled in and began the delightful process of surveying the Ridge we now call home.
Let me pause a moment for some SEMANTIC CLARIFICATION:
Coined by our superlative leader Scholar Eliniea Hayve Forghe, “the Ridge” refers to the particular cliff-like expanse of seafloor that borders (what we believe to be) the deepest trench in our Vast Oceans. It stretches countless fathoms in every direction, but we sit on its very edge – overlooking the abyss within the abyss that is greater than any one of us may comprehend!
Yet it is such comprehension to which we aspire, naturally. Equipped with Diving Technology that far exceeds even the wildest dreams of Your Humble Writer, we will now survey all aspects of this underwater world in a manner previously thought impossible.
But rather than beg you to take my word for it, I will turn to my colleague, Scholar Irye Rux of Atoll Campus, who will summarise the intriguing aural phenomena of our new home.
INTERVIEW WITH SCHOLAR IRYE RUX
Scholar Vincenebras:Scholar Rux, you have my thanks for joining us today!
Scholar Rux:I was not aware that I could refuse this interview, my dear fellow, but I appreciate the gratitude nonetheless.
Vincenebras:Naturally, our audience desperately looks forward to hearing you discuss your most recent discoveries in documenting the sounds of the Ridge.
Rux:Perhaps. Considering that this interview will be distributed in print form, however, I somehow highly doubt that anyone will be able to listen to our conversation.
Vincenebras:Please regale us with tales of the unusual noises you’ve been transcribing since our mission began.
Rux: What’s unusual is that there is really only one sound of note.
Vincenebras:Then you clearly haven’t witnessed Scholar Forghe and Scholar Cidnosin chuckling together at jokes they refuse to share…
Rux:I prepared a copy of my most recent Sonic Chart for your enjoyment. (DEAR READERS, this is the point at which Schr Rux showed me the chart! There were many lines upon it! – Vincenebras) The variations that you can see are mostly identifiable – like, for example, the occasional distant vocalisations of a Melodious Toothed Whale.
Vincenebras:So you find these whale songs – noteworthy?
Rux:You misunderstand entirely. There is only one noteworthy sound besides the whales, other familiar creatures, and everything anthropogenic, such as the generators for our station.
Vincenebras:For our readers’ sakes alone – I understand you completely, of course – would you please elaborate?
Rux:I have, on a daily basis, encountered a deep, resonant, rhythmic Bloorb that seems to commence and halt at regular intervals.
Vincenebras:A—Bloorb, you say?
Rux:We have only been here for a short while, so my evidence is not yet conclusive. I wonder if there might be multiple sources – whether it is caused by some manner of geological movement in the vent or beneath the seafloor or…
Vincenebras:How utterly extraordinary!
Rux:That is one possibility.
Vincenebras:Well, Scholar Rux, on behalf of our dear subscribers, let me thank you for sharing your expertise with us. I am very eager to see how this develops.
Rux:Now we finally have something in common.
INTERVIEW CONCLUDES
Though I’m sure you, our beloved readers, cannot wait to hear more about Schr Rux’s discoveries, I must away for now – the glories of Research (and the Bloorb) await!
Yours soundly,
Schr Vincenebras
My dear Sophy,
Would you believe that I nearly cried when I spied your handwriting on the envelope this time around? I have felt especially bereft of you of late. Though I tried to fill the void caused by your absence through various means – removing a truly impressive amount of aggressive algae from our interior walls and occasionally taking the time to sketch some coral polyps from memory, for example – naught compares to your (distant) company.
I will say nothing else about your upcoming research expedition except for this: you are so brave, sensible, and inspiring, and you have all my love as always.
Speaking of love in its various forms, I suppose you must be correct in your assumption about the victim of Arvist’s “engagement”. I simply cannot accept that she did not tell me more openly of their love when we last spoke. Then again, it has been a long while since I felt truly close to Seliara – perhaps I am to blame. What do they talk about? I wonder. Are they each other’s muses? Will Arvist become an acolyte of Linguistic Alchemy? Given the history involved, I am not surprised that your response to this development was so terse, but please know that I am happy to listen if you ever would like to explore your feelings further.
I appreciate your “recommendation” to contact Schr Alestarre; I certainly do. I do remember Jeime with fondness. Am I correct in recalling that she took you, me, Seliara, and Arvist on our first depth-craft ride past the drop-off? I don’t suppose any of us were older than ten. How the great blue darkness terrified Seliara! (How sad that nowadays I would be the one to cower as my Brain convinced me of the very many ways in which I might somehow make a fatal error aboard the depth-craft that would result in the deaths of everyone I care about…) As pleasing as it is to reminisce about happier times with Mother and Father, I do not know if I dare ask Jeime’s advice. The thought of seeing someone – without you here to calm me and strengthen me as you always do – makes me feel quite ill. For your dear sake, however, I will consider it.
O, dear Sophy, please keep your wits about you as you descend into the abyss! (If one can descend even more than you already have, of course.) If I go out into the garden and call your name into the water, might it appear as another unidentifiable sound on Schr Rux’s hydrophone?
Until we write again,
E.
Dear Vyerin,
You might notice some indecipherable scribbles – abstract clouds of ink, really – at the end of E.’s last letter. I can guess at the word “Scholar” within this self-censored postscript. Perhaps she expressed a fear that Henerey would not respond to her again, but then grew too embarrassed to send it to me. She must therefore have been delighted to receive the following letter (enclosed) soon afterwards…
Sophy
Dear Sophy,
I wish I could have reassured E. that Henerey has – as a matter of personal pride – never left a letter unanswered in his life. (This made him a fitting rival for our relatives on my father’s side, who behaved similarly. In a particularly notable period of correspondence, I believe Henerey and our uncle exchanged more than three hundred letters – each simply thanking the recipient for his “previous note”.)
Vyerin
Dear Schr E.,
I intended to take my time crafting the perfect reply for you – I even drafted a charming introduction in which I attributed my delayed response to your distractingly enchanting description of your family’s garden! (That introduction was sincere, I assure you. I could easily lose a great deal of time rereading your words. I suppose, though, that “lose” is the wrong word, as I gained so much from them.)
Yet here I am merely a few days later writing you something altogether hastier and less eloquent. I should probably confess from the start that I am not feeling entirely myself of late and made the ill-judged decision of spending the night in the Library Anchorage (instead of retreating home for much-needed rest, as most self-preserving individuals might!). It does make me feel rather like an overworked Apprentice – perhaps you remember from your siblings’ experiences on campus that the library connects to the Docked Dormitories via an underwater tunnel for easy access, so Apprentices can visit the stacks at any hour of the night. I am sure you care little about the everyday melodramas of the Boundless Campus, so it suffices to say that recent circumstances have made me feel rather less motivated and more disengaged from my colleagues than usual. How can this place be so different from the Atoll School of Observation in which I came of age? I was about to write that these emotions are relatively new to me, but after consulting my daybook, I was surprised to find that I have felt similarly ever since I joined my new Campus. (I hope you do not find it odd that I make a habit of recording my emotions. Sometimes they can get the better of me if I do not watch myself carefully, so it is useful to take notes.)
Fortunately, I happen to have two very delightful pastimes that help me detach from my troubles and enjoy myself thoroughly. The Department plays no role in them! The first (as my presence in the library might suggest!) is my private and thoroughly amateurish fascination with Antepelagic Fantasies. Yes, how funny it is that I, Henerey Clel, a Natural Historian who has spent his life studying tangible, observable, knowable phenomena, passes every free hour reading up on those fictional tales of adventure that imagine the sky-world before the Dive and bring richness to our rigid, Scholarly lives. It is a testament to how sympathetic I find your letters that I dare mention this at all – since I have often been treated with derision for enjoying something so nebulous and illogical.
Regardless of your own interest in fantastic stories from the past, I think you will find the subject of my inquiry intriguing: ever since you mentioned those Elongated Fish, I have found myself drawn to historical accounts of strange sea-life encounters! And when traditional Scholarly literature failed me on this subject, I turned towards my beloved stories. Sadly, progress eludes me thus far. The best match at present is an anecdote recorded over four hundred years ago that accompanies a small woodcut print of massively lengthy Eel (?) circling an unknown landmass.
I swear to you that I shall continue my hunt tonight and into the future and let you know if I discover even the most miniscule clue! As the late Scholar Kenven Darbeni (a personal favourite of mine) once wrote, “even amid an abyssal sea we may still encounter a lonesome phosphorescence”, and I feel I can see this metaphorical light reflecting off the walls of the library as I search for a source that can give us some clarity.
Now I must (rather bashfully!) reveal that the second pastime bringing me peace in these trying times is our correspondence. You seem to think your life dull in comparison to mine, yet I would give anything to spend my days gazing out of the Deep House portholes at endless passing creatures, or even counting bubbles and checking for leaks as necessity dictates! (Your maintenance responsibilities must be numerous, and you must therefore be incredibly diligent! I admire that quality greatly.) I must, unfortunately, disavow you of any romantic misconceptions about the life of a Natural Historian. I spend almost no time “in the field” these days: as my Department has quite suddenly and vocally changed its priorities from those that complement my own. A short time ago, Chancellor Orelith Rawsel delivered a most hurtful missive that
My apologies: I did say I would try to spare you the melodrama! Please disregard those inexpertly crossed-out words.
Instead, if you will indulge me by reading a little further, I will return your kindness in describing your childhood by telling you a little about mine. Had I been raised as you were, spending all my time underwater, I wonder if it would have amplified my own interests in the marine world or stymied them through over-familiarity.
You see, growing up on the Atoll, I was as far from water as anyone can be! My father is a Scholar of Wayfinding and my parent a Scholar of Life, and both study natural resources of the Atoll. And only the Atoll. Consequently, my family rarely ventured to the coastline.
But, when we did: what specimens I brought back from those trips! My belaboured, land-favouring parents quickly found themselves raising two boys fascinated with the sea. As if my budding Scholar of Classification’s sensibility was not enough, Vyerin, my brother, developed an interest in coastal Wayfinding and Navigation. Yet since those days, I find that the unadulterated curiosity about the world I possessed in my youth has diminished into a more subdued and socially acceptable “academic interest”.
That is, until you sent me your sketch in your first letter – it seemed animated by the vibrant intellectual energy now lost to me as a so-called “Scholar”.
So perhaps that is why I feel so compelled to fling word upon word at you as the hour grows later and the overnight library attendant eyes me with unmasked disapproval. Though I dare not say that I wish I were not a Scholar, I have felt of late a desire to escape to—to—well, somewhere else, and at present, I can think of no better elsewhere than the world you inhabit.
Before I embarrass myself further, I should mention that my extensive response should in no way force you to reply with similar verbosity. As you yourself addressed in your last letter, I understand that not responding promptly does not necessarily suggest disinterest. Shall we call a truce, and both pledge that we shall ignore any temporal lapses in our conversation? (Though I do secretly hope they will not be too lengthy.)
Yours with excitement,
Henerey (if I may sign off this way? Surely we have exchanged enough letters now to qualify as “acquainted” by Boundless standards?)
P.S. O! How could I forget to mention that I included a fair copy I made of the aforementioned Eel anecdote! I made a tracing of the image, too. I hope you will forgive its clumsiness. I received artistic training as part of my studies, and can therefore get by due to my experience, but I lack talent! (We are perfect foils for each other artistically, in this sense.)
P.P.S. Regarding the aforementioned fair copy of the aforementioned text—
Perhaps you will think less of me, but I must admit that I take peculiar delight in examining the writing habits of our ancestors. Before the Campuses standardised shorthand orthography, language was a much more creative affair, don’t you think?
(I will not be offended if you do not think so.)
H.
“Many Saye that our Seas host many Hostile Creatures well Vaste. As a Childe heard I once that Greate Fishe Swam the Shallowes just before the Seas Shook. These Fishe stretched more than three Fathoms from Tip to Taile. Some say that these Fishe could be seen by those on Ships passing from Afar – and they thought them Moving Bridges.”
Dear Sophy,
How funny to read my own biography. We enjoyed a wonderful youth, all things considered. Though I was the eldest, Henerey surpassed me in nearly every skill as soon as he was old enough to speak. Perhaps some would find this infuriating. Not I. I took delight in both learning from him and using my age, height, and considerably superior understanding of social niceties to protect him when I could.
Speaking of sociability – I am sure you will not be surprised to find that my brother struggled to “mingle”, or “connect with peers”, or “build constructive professional relationships”, as you Boundless folk so enjoy doing. With that in mind, it is remarkable how forthcoming, personal, and honest he is in these messages to E. I make a show of mocking my poor husband for his earnest belief in “predestined partners”, or the notion that each of us has a perfect match somewhere – but I must confess that I already cannot imagine someone better suited to my brother than your sister. (And, OF COURSE, no one better suited to ME than REIV CLEL – just in case you walk by my desk and glance at the unfinished draft of this letter, my dear fellow!)
Forgive me – this is the first time in ages that I have engaged in so much “reminiscence”, or whatever it is called. Such a strange practice. I hope this letter finds you well. As usual, I am very grateful for all that you send me. I feel like a poor collaborator, as I have only a few scraps here and there that can illuminate tiny corners in the vast seascape of history you have assembled. But I shall keep an eye on the dates of your documents and will offer more contributions when the time is right.
Many thanks,
Vyerin
P.S. I thought you might be pleased to know that Avanne is in better spirits lately. Today she crafted a rather lovely and functional vase with her clay instead of her typical output (masks painted with an ocean of teardrop patterns that look wet enough to melt the glaze). In typical Proud Father fashion, Reiv immediately filled the vase with water only to realise that we will need to acquire a kiln if we hope to use Avanne’s creations on a daily basis without inviting calamity. Fortunately, the loss of her first vase tormented Avanne less than the loss of her first relationship.
P.P.S. By the by, I wondered how long it would take before Henerey quoted my old nemesis SCHOLAR KENVEN DARBENI to E. How unfortunate. I used to block my ears with my hands and scream gently every time Henerey mentioned that sycophantic Scholar (which was seemingly every other minute). What did my brother find so charming about Darbeni’s dull aphorisms?
Dear Vyerin,
How many times must I assert that I enjoy reading your letters? (And simply value you, for that matter?) I shall continue doing so until the truth sinks in, you stubborn sailor. It is not as though I have a vast circle of friends and companions eager to assemble and analyse letters written by my missing sister, after all! (Or a vast circle of friends and companions at all, I should say.)
But I will take inspiration from your daughter and try to be more positive.
O! I am neglecting the most important revelation of those past few letters! Dear Vyerin, why did you not tell me that you studied as a Scholar of Wayfinding in your apprenticeship? I suppose you were at Atoll Campus with Henerey before he was transferred, so our paths would not have crossed, but still…
With all my best wishes,
Sophy
P.S. I fear you never will, but if you dared to write to Arvist, I’m sure he might have a kiln connection for Avanne to exploit.
P.P.S. Darbeni quotes were beloved in the Cidnosin household, so you’ll find no sympathy from me. Do you not appreciate Darbeni’s quirkiness, and how he rebelled against Scholarly standards with his oddly formulaic writing? I suppose you will simply have to put up with it – perhaps he will even grow on you. “Even the most rigid rock-face must one day yield to the advances of erosion,” you know.
S.,
As a captain, I navigate for a living. What else do you think I would have studied (and failed in) if not Wayfinding? Something from the School of Inspiration, perhaps?
I appreciate your postscripted suggestion, but will predictably decline to contact Arvist – I am already far too occupied with the finest of Cidnosin correspondents. If you managed to convince him to discreetly ship a kiln to my location with no questions asked, on the other hand…
I shall not even deign to acknowledge your second postscript.
V.
CaptainVyerin, I shall accept your mockery without complaint because I am simply so excited to correspond with one who shares my love of Maps! What a glorious discovery!
“Even a new-hatched fish knows the seas better than the learned Wayfinder.”