Chapter 7
Dear Seliara,
Have you been so preoccupied with the thrills of Linguistic Alchemy – pardon me, I mean so preoccupied with research – pardon me again, I truly mean so preoccupied with your surprise betrothal to my brother – that you lost all sense of time since last we met? Or have you simply decided to try out reclusiveness in a competitive attempt to outshine my own antisocial nature?
I jest. I do, however, miss your company, and hope that you might do me a favour by dining with me on any date convenient to you. (I will once again attempt to cook.) In full disclosure, I will confess that Sophy’s expedition and recent events have left me feeling somewhat bereft of human company: a feeling I never thought I might experience.
Also, I do wish you had told me about Arvist, but I suppose I am happy for you.
With many pre-emptive thanks,
E.
Dear E., if I may,
I hope this letter does not come as an unpleasant surprise. A few tides ago I received a card from your sister. I felt so privileged to hear from her while she’s so busy with the Ridge. Her note revealed little, but suggested that you might want to schedule an assessment of the Deep House sometime in the future. I would be honoured.
But first, I do want to apologise for losing touch with you since your mother passed away. (I expressed a similar sentiment in my letter to Sophy.) I felt lost when we lost her. I do not want to make you feel uncomfortable or reawaken your grief, but if you desire my help in any way, please know that I am fully at your disposal. It would be no trouble at all. In fact, I once promised your mother that I would always assist with Cidnosin family matters if called upon, and I do pride myself on keeping my word. I remember all too fondly the days past I spent in (and around) the Deep House with your delightful family (whom I so boldly and so often considered my own).
Your friend,
Jeime (Schr Alestarre)
Dear dear dear E.,
Sending you blessings and apologies and asking for forgiveness please! I assumed you had already heard or suspected about Arvist and myself, as clever as you are. He insists we must not fix a wedding date sooner than next year because such an event will require tides and tides of “Dynamic Creative Preparations”, which means there will be ample opportunity for everyone to come around to the idea. Let me dine with you in three days’ time and hope that we can make amends quite sincerely, for I would be so happy to be as Sisters with you—
With many embraces,
Seliara
Dear Jeime,
I must admit that I would not have contacted you had my sister not forced my hand. I am impressed that you remember me, since I was but a girl (and rather less troubled by my Brain as I am now) when we last crossed paths. Sometimes I wonder if the rest of the campuses knows the Cidnosins as a perfect family of four – two Scholars who begat two more Scholars, never mind that “other one” who never leaves the Deep House.
In any case, your letter immediately conjured up the sound of your voice speaking in endless exclamations to Mother as you two gushed over aquadynamics and innovation!
Do not blame yourself for losing touch. She would not wish you to. I am simply happy to renew our acquaintance.
Let me cut straight to the point. If it suits you, I intend to dine with a friend (perhaps you remember Seliara: the girl, now grown, from the research vessel Alacrity?) three days from now and wonder if you would care to join us.
Until soon, I hope,
E.
Dear Vyerin,
Hello again! What a whirlwind of short letters!
You might wonder how I possess a copy of a letter E. sent to Jeime. I did not know if I could manage it, and did not wish to make any promises that I could not keep, HOWEVER, I am happy to announce the following:
Two days ago, I wrote to Jeime Alestarre to introduce our “project”, and asked if she had anything to share – and she did!
Because I mentioned the date that you and I had reached in our discussion, Jeime also sent along a copy of some pages from her personal diary that describe her meeting with E. and Seliara. What a wonderful primary source. I feel so thankful for the coincidental archival fastidiousness of our family friend (and her generosity in giving us something so personal).
Excitedly,
Sophy
Dear Sophy,
Your boundless energy for this enterprise is appreciated, as usual. It is oddly convenient that your friend already had such documents assembled.
Vyerin
P.S. Was it uncharacteristic for E. to make social plans with not one but two people at such short notice? She must have been very concerned about getting Jeime to look at the house!
Dear V.,
Less convenient is that Jeime does not use Automated Post, and when I followed up to ask if she would be willing to share more journal entries in the future, she did not respond.
I shall have to press further. I am shameless, you see.
S.
P.S. Regarding your question, I suspect this was E.’s attempt at taking care of two problems at once – dealing with the Arvist and Seliara revelation, and re-meeting an old friend – at the urging of Dr Lyelle. From what I heard from E., the good doctor never pushed her to do things that caused her anxiety, but tried to offer solutions that would help her come face-to-face with her fears in a secure fashion. In this case, Seliara’s presence would alleviate E.’s fear of entertaining Jeime, while Jeime’s presence would spare E. from dealing with Seliara going on and on about her love for Arvist for too long.
(And, by the way, though you would never guess it, E.’s “social stamina” for encounters with those rare people she trusted and appreciated was actually remarkably strong as well – when I spent time with her, I could hardly get a word in edgewise!)
So, I kept my word and joined E. at the Deep House on Second Day of the Second Superlative Tide in the Second Quarter of High Waters, sometime around four bells. When I told Min of my plans, she cheekily suggested I ask Schr Elvo to give me a lift to my evening engagement. (After last week’s escapades, no one would deny that Elvo owed me!) Min is better than I deserve.
The Deep House looked exactly as I remembered it. I expected that the sight of the house would make me weep ceaselessly; I did not expect that emotional deluge to occur as soon as I reached the small depth-craft on the water’s surface that carries visitors down to Ami’s greatest creation. During my descent, I took the opportunity to dry my tears and pull myself together, with mixed results.
Any ground I gained in suppressing my emotions was lost when the airlock door opened and I saw her – E., that is, but also a living portrait of Ami, with the family resemblance clear in every feature. Yet in her eyes I saw and in her speech I heard that same unabashed inquisitiveness and unbridled enthusiasm that I too felt in my younger years. Seeing E. while I suffered from this unexpected influx of motherly feelings makes me wonder what would have happened if—but no, I dare not even write that tragic thought here.
I recognised her companion, Seliara, too. At first part of me resented the other young woman’s gregariousness, as E. could barely speak a word in between her friend’s bursts of speech. Yet as our evening progressed and I noticed the grins and nods exchanged between them when they thought I looked elsewhere, I realised that E. appreciated Seliara’s conversational dominance, since it spared her the burden of sustaining our discussion.
As the end of the meal drew nearer, E. appeared to grow restless and perhaps even troubled. Her hands never stopped moving. She would raise her glass to her lips again and again, even though there was nothing left in it to drink. She stood up to move our forks into the kitchen before bringing them back out again. I did my best to nod along to Seliara’s companionable chatter, but I found E.’s frantic activities nearly impossible to ignore. At last, when our conversation reached a pause, E. stood up and gestured towards the door, asking if I might take a turn about the house with her.
The review of the interior went well enough – a few fittings on the south airlock had come loose, and E. was a quick study as I showed her how to screw them back into place. Nothing alarming. Then I begged a spare dive suit, and E. produced a perfectly maintained Scribel Silver Seas model that was just my size. Based on what I can recall of the Cidnosin siblings’ various personalities, I assume it belongs to Sophy. (And one wonders – if Sophy left a Silver Seas suit at home, what did she take with her on her expedition?)
With Seliara hanging back to put the finishing touches on a dessert she had brought along, E. and I dived together into that reef that I used to know so well.
And even now, even here, in my private musings written several hours after my experience – I still do not know how to record what it was I saw. That Structure—
I dare not even ponder it all. How I wish Ami were still here.
Dear Sophy,
I find myself very intrigued and cannot wait to read whatever other materials Schr Alestarre shares with you (if she does). To think that even she, a seasoned Scholar, found Arvist’s odd installation startling! I do not enjoy mysteries and anomalies – it is only since my life has been changed irrevocably by them that I must contend with the unknown.
Now I must ask you something altogether awkward. Were your mother and Jeime, you know, “involved”? There is a great deal of grief and affection in this letter.
(Also, though it seems unbelievable that someone would censor themselves in their own private journal, I understand why Jeime-of-the-past did not clarify her thoughts about the sculpture – because Henerey would have done the same! He famously refused to write down anything significant in his journals because “you never know what future Scholar might read them”.)
I do hope you will let me lighten the mood (so to speak) with a letter from E. to Henerey. At the very least, I will be happy to escape that Structure for a few more pages!
Anxiously,
V.
P.S. I see why you left the Silver Seas suit at home. Got one as a thank-you from a sailing client once. It appears that the amount of money one pays for a high-end diving suit is directly proportional to how uncomfortable it is.
Dear Vyerin,
I will admit that Jeime’s diary set me rather on edge myself – simply because she is one of the most learned individuals I know, and I cannot imagine something flummoxing her! How I wish to have a proper conversation to see if she can clarify anything about what happened at the Deep House last year. If she does not reply to my letter soon, I may have to send her a second (or a third)…
In the meantime, you know I always welcome the opportunity to read a letter from E.
I hope that odd Structure will not end up haunting your nightmares. Will it comfort you to know that it is truly gone from this world – likely blown to a thousand pieces along with the Deep House? Now, if it turns out that a structure can produce a spectre after it is destroyed, I will truly become concerned.
Comfortingly,
Sophy
P.S. Though it makes me a little uncomfortable, I admit that you make a fair point about my mother and Jeime – or at least about Jeime’s feelings for my mother. They did study in the same Department as Apprentice Scholars – that’s how they met – perhaps they courted each other back then? And, again, that is all the speculation I shall do about my mother’s romantic history! (That may also explain why Jeime sent me only this single, puzzling excerpt: did the rest of her diary entry contain more effusive sentiments about my mother that she feared I would find awkward to read?) As far as I know, Jeime is now recently engaged to Scholar Minerin Ili (presumably the “Min” from this journal entry), so I am glad, at least, that she found happiness in the present.
P.P.S. Because you might wonder – and are likely too tactful to ask – our Father still lives, but as you may have seen in a previous letter from E., he has been in “Scholarly Seclusion” ever since Mother died. This might be a uniquely Boundless practice, so I shall explain further. Essentially, a Scholar who is overwhelmed with shame or grief (or, in some rarer cases, boredom) might Vow to spend an indeterminate amount of time on a solitary ship with no navigational capacities (but ample fishing, cooking, and water distillation supplies) that simply drifts wherever the currents carry it. But after he first left us, I employed Current Calculation to determine the approximate radius in which his vessel might float, based on his starting location, so E. and I occasionally sent him letters via commissioned mail-boat. That was more for our benefit than his, of course – he never responded.
I hoped E.’s disappearance might coax him into returning home, but it has only worsened his self-induced exile. Instead of writing to tell him about the quake, I booked a boat and went to find him myself at one point – and when I finally did, news of this second mourning seemed to destroy him. He embraced me, then muttered that he could not stay and picked up an oar he’d fashioned from driftwood that might propel him towards new horizons.
Dear Sophy,
Thank you for telling me about your father. I am sorry.
If you ever wish to seek him out again one day, please recall that I know a thing or two about boats.
Vyerin
Dear Schr Cl Henerey (yes, I decided to preserve my mistake instead of starting afresh on new paper so that you may witness how much I struggled to drop your proper honorific! I do it only out of respect for your preferences).
A few days ago, my sister departed the Spheres to embark on a perilous field study that will prevent her from sending me letters with any regularity. I assumed this hiatus from familial correspondence would lead to my despondence. Yet here I am, happily taking up pen and ink to write to you instead while in relatively good spirits. Like you (I’m sorry to say!), I find myself adrift in some challenging times, and decided that the unique nature of the connection you and I share may help me sail through them. I hope you will pardon the intimacy.
In any case, as I mentioned, my sister’s most recent letter revealed that she is about to commence her first extended foray outside the (relative) safety of the Spheres down below. This development makes me less inclined to trouble Sophy with my own issues, as they seem rather insignificant in comparison to the taxing experience of surveying the very bottom of the ocean. I appreciate that she takes the time to write to me and share so much about her observations, and the people with whom she spends her days – but I am jealous of them, Henerey! It is pitiful and cruel of me to want to keep my sister to myself, I know. Though she has always been my closest friend and confidante, I will never allow myself to share these feelings with her, out of fear that she would worry for me and return home – which must not happen! (Thanks to your letters, I know that you have a brother, and I wonder if you have ever had a similar experience in your relationship with him?)
Yet with no Sophy to turn to, I feel especially comfortable sharing my puzzling circumstance with you, because you revealed in your last letter that you possess exactly the expertise I might need! Will it surprise you to know that I, too, am fond of Fantasies? Yes – though Mother always purported to find them dull and mentally unstimulating, Father encouraged each of us, in turns, to read one of these imaginings about the early ages of the sky-world every night. Whenever I remember that a thousand years ago, our Society lived in the clouds, on hovering islands bigger than the Atoll, never even daring to sink lower into the atmosphere and see the seas below – well, when I think about that, it fills me with the very essence of Sublimity. (I enjoyed particularly those belief-defying stories of the Star Sailors, and their legendary ascent into the sky beyond the sky in crafts powered by their own thoughts…)
Given our shared interests, then, I think you will understand better than anyone that my present situation does not exactly follow the rules of logic.
I will end this dance of delicate suggestion and move onto the point. Several tides ago, I noticed a structure of unusual size and unknown provenance just outside of the carefully cultivated section of the reef under the Deep House that we consider our garden. I assumed that my brother, artist that he is, must have constructed it without my knowledge, and that unsettled me. He refused to respond to any of my correspondence about the matter (or any other matter, for that matter). This would have all been in keeping with my brother’s character, but the situation changed dramatically yesterday.
Last evening, Schr Jeime Alestarre (an Architect) stopped by to examine the workings of the Deep House. Schr Alestarre is a family friend, extraordinarily dear to my mother, and even as a child I considered her to be impeccably and unapproachably clever. Yet the “Structure” seemed to make her quake in surprise! When I told her it was but a silly project of my brother’s, she locked eyes with me and shook her head – and as the bright water reflected on her helm, I could detect great anxiety on her face. (We were in dive suits at the time – perhaps I should have mentioned that earlier – but then again, it is not as though we would have been out on the reef looking at the Structure in our fine clothes – o dear, I am awful at telling stories, Henerey, especially as I am used to writing only to Sophy – please forgive me!)
When we returned to the house, Jeime apologised for her strange behaviour. All she would say was that the Structure reminded her of something else, and that she was very shocked to hear that my brother had constructed it. I wanted to press her, but I am simply terrible at Conversation. She departed soon after – even before enjoying the dessert that Seliara (my other friend, who – well, I suppose you don’t need to know any more than that!) brought for us. Very odd indeed. Though Jeime did ask if she might return to the Deep House sometime in the future with a borrowed depth-craft to examine the undergarden, so perhaps she is not daunted just yet.
The reason why I mention this, Henerey, is because I thought perhaps you might have some resource or reading to which to direct me – you were so generous in sharing “The Greate Fishe”, you know! Speaking of which, o, if only I could tell you how much breathless joy I took in poring over the illustration you enclosed. I have never seen historical visual imagery of that nature (though perhaps I might begrudgingly admit that the Cidnosin family library is slightly less extensive than that of the Boundless Campus). All of this is to say that I am awed by every aspect of your letter, including your breathtaking erudition – I can feel Sophy’s voice in my mind telling me not to say this as it comes across as sarcastic, but I do genuinely mean that.
In fact, each time I reread your words, I cannot resist the temptation of wondering what “your” library must look like – surely a place that offers such a sanctuary to you in times of need must be remarkable indeed! Is there a particular carrel that you call home, or do you sit in a new nook every time you visit? Do you keep a stack of books that spills over your table as you write, or do you enjoy only a single tome at a time: savouring the quest of seeking out another each time you’ve finished? (I take the former method myself – I tend to have twelve books in progress at once, and struggle to finish any! My desk in my bedroom is a shipwreck of a study, with shells and scribbles and pressed seaweed samples scattered all about the place.) Despite our proximity to Boundless, I have never visited that particular Library Anchorage before. As a young girl, however, I once experienced the Atoll Campus library during a cross-campus holiday with my family. You must have fond memories of that one, since you grew up there – how funny to think that we might have seen each other and not known! Things were so much easier for me with Society and my Brain when I was a child, so perhaps if I had met you, we might have become fast friends much sooner.
As lovely as that library was, I do not imagine that I will be able to visit it again anytime soon. For the moment, however, I do like to imagine what it would be like to seek out the answers I desire about this Structure affair in such a place – and, perhaps, to discuss them with you.
Until next time (dare I be so bold?),
E.
P.S. I felt honoured and baffled all at once to learn that my silly sketch moved you so. I assure you that whatever “vibrant intellectual energy” I may possess is merely the product of my childhood circumstances, not a sign of any exceptional talent. You see, my mother was of the firm belief that she ought never to tell us anything outright, because “discovery is the greatest pleasure one can experience”. As children, my siblings and I found this philosophy equally freeing (when it permitted us to engage in all sorts of fascinating experiments and adventures that were not entirely advisable) and frustrating (when it prevented our mother from revealing even the simplest information, such as the hour at which luncheon would occur). At the very least, I am grateful that her peculiar parenting style equipped me with an independent spirit and insatiable curiosity.
(And more grateful still that you find such qualities admirable.)
Dear Vyerin!
As always, it is a delight to read E.’s words – though I am sorry she felt that her all-too-natural envy of my colleagues at the Ridge was something she needed to hide from me. Perhaps it would comfort her to know that there is a small part of me that envies Henerey and the role that he played during these last few months of her life.
More importantly, however, you were wrong to hope that we’d escape any mention of the Structure! There it is in E.’s letter – prominent and puzzling as always!
But you said nothing about that! Do you truly refrain from reading documents before sending them to me?
With surprise,
Sophy
Dear Sophy,
Of course I do not read the letters first. I do not pick them up until I have sent the copies to you. I would like the sense of discovery to be shared, as silly as that may sound.
I too was horrified to see the Structure appear again. And unlike Henerey (and apparently E.), I abhor Fantasies.
V.
V.,
Please know that though I lack your immediate archival willpower for the most part, I have only read about half of the documents that I possess from E.’s files. And surely there are more that we have not yet found but may later add to our “project”. So perhaps we may “solve” the puzzle of the Structure as a by-product of our other investigations.
Or perhaps we will uncover nothing more than additional mysteries.
S.