Chapter 9
Dear E.,
My apologies for not thanking you for your kind hospitality until now. Were she still with us, your mother surely could not be prouder of the woman you’ve become – and how skilfully you preserve her Deep House.
I apologise, too, for my odd behaviour during the visit. I did not expect to see that “Structure”, as you call it. And I apologise for a third time in advance of writing something especially enigmatic in the paragraph to follow, but I anticipate you shall understand it better soon.
This morning, I happened to encounter Seliara and your brother (whom I immediately recognised – like you, he is the spitting image of your mother – is Sophy the same, or does she take after your father these days?) in the campus Refectory. We discussed the Structure. I anticipate he will soon speak with you and offer some insight about the situation.
That is all for now. I will rather rudely discourage you from writing back, as I may not answer for a while. I have some off-campus projects to complete that may take some time. We shall reconnect when I return.
With kindness,
Jeime
Beloved E.,
Wonderful news! Tomorrow my betrothed and I shall take up residence in our family home once more! Can you believe that your days of solitude have – at last – reached an end? O let us rejoice!
Until soon,
Scholar Artistry “Arvist” Cidnosin
P.S. Sophy’s bedchamber seems far more suitable for a soon-to-be husband and wife than my humble studio. Do you not agree? I know our Sister is as generous as she is intelligent!
Dear Sophy,
I included the attached note from our brother because I believe one day it will be an artefact of historical significance. Today turned out to be the “tomorrow” of which Arvist wrote. And his letter was only sent yesterday evening, and thus arrived here long after they did. I have confined myself to my bedroom – the one haven left to me – to share my frustration with you. For the first time in my life, I do truly wish I could be anywhere but here!
This morning, at barely six bells (thank goodness I had a restless night and lay fidgeting in my bed instead of fast asleep!) I heard the recognisable creak of the airlock. Worried for a moment that something had gone wrong with the entrance mechanism – I knew that I should have paid more attention during Jeime’s visit – I threw on my dressing gown and crept down the hallway, scanning all the while for any visible signs of trouble. I knew not what I expected to find, but my Brain, at least, was quite convinced that my end was upon me!
As soon as I reached the staircase, however, I heard Arvist’s and Seliara’s voices. You might think that the familiarity would bring me comfort – after all, moments ago, I thought that Death itself awaited me in the airlock! – but their laughter sickened me. I took several minutes to descend each stair, and had I not clung to the railing with all my might, I surely would have tumbled.
Some amount of time later, the pair appeared in the parlour below me. Arvist looked as rumpled and self-satisfied as usual, with a bit of crushed sheet music tucked in a cuff of his jacket.
Between you and me, Sophy, I would have much preferred to welcome Death.
“Good evening, dear E.!” he greeted me. (I assume I already mentioned that it was nowhere near evening.) He touched my shoulder in a modest gesture of affection that must have required exceptional effort. “Why must you play at being surprised? Sophy asked me to come and check on you, you know.”
“I certainly did not expect you—” I tried to say.
“And what better way to keep an eye on my sunken sister than to return home at last?” he continued without pause, as though he were an old-fashioned automaton reciting the one dramatic monologue it had been designed to perform.
“I do hope it won’t be too much of an intrusion, E.,” cut in Seliara. “I did try to warn you, but it seems my letter did not make it in time. I’ve even brought a hamper for us tonight, with sweets to spare!”
I must confess that I mumbled something rather unbecoming about my appetite spoiling and turned to leave. Arvist, of course, thwarted my escape by leaping inelegantly in front of the door.
“Ah, dear sister,” he stuttered, suddenly seeming especially anxious. Did he realise at last how much of a burden he placed upon me?
Alas, no.
“It seems there has been a misunderstanding,” Arvist continued, staring at the floor most uncharacteristically, “about that masterpiece in the undergarden.”
“How could I misunderstand you, brother, when you refused to respond to any of my letters inquiring about the subject?”
“O, it’s all my fault, dear E.,” Seliara interrupted once more. “I gave you the impression that Arvist made the piece. I had it backwards – the sculpture he found is informing his newest performance piece, which is why he’s returned home!”
Surely this will puzzle you as much as it puzzled me, Sophy!
“If you did not make it, then where in the name of the seas did it come from?”
“O, an ancient wreck, or a storm, or something – who can say?” said Arvist as he stepped out of my way. “At any rate, E., you may retreat now. That is all. Farewell.”
Well, I certainly don’t like the idea of odd Structures tossed into our garden by unknown forces, but I can barely wrap my head around that. It appears my visitors will be here for an indefinite amount of time, and your room has most certainly been overtaken. While I dare not rebuke Arvist to his face yet, I continue eavesdropping from the landing (in our favourite childhood listening spot!) to obtain more information about their plans. Arvist is under the impression that the Structure will inform his greatest Artistic accomplishment of all time, and he is intent upon developing a Dramatic Intervention (?) in response to it. Apparently, he planned this months ago when he first “discovered” the Structure (and said nothing to us? Nothing to me?), and now he wants to leap into this “interpretation” as soon as possible. When and how he hopes to showcase his performance, I do not know – somehow he gained “research leave” from his Department – but it will decidedly not be during the School of Inspiration’s Gala, which has (heartbreakingly, to Arvist) been rescheduled this year.
Interestingly, I also overheard Seliara scolding him: it turns out he had told her that he made the thing himself (posturing to impress her during their courtship, I assume), but she agreed to lie to me and say it was her misunderstanding so he could save face. At the very least, I’m glad that she is brave enough to be cross with him – if only in private!
I don’t suppose you have room for an unskilled unScholar in the abyss with you? Please tell your colleagues that I promise to be brave even in the face of great peril – see how I already faced it today? As I sit here at my window once more, I find myself rather hoping that those Elongated Fish will return – they would certainly be preferable company.
I take some comfort in knowing that many days have now passed since you last wrote, and that you should return to the Spheres very soon. I cannot wait to speak to you again! Please travel with all due care.
With endless love (and Trepidation…)
E.
Dear Sophy,
It occurs to me that we now have a remarkable coincidence on our hands. E. reunited with her brother on the same day that Henerey reunited with his (otherwise known as yours truly). I wonder which pair of us enjoyed the reunions most?
Jests aside, I do feel outraged on E.’s behalf, though as a Recovered Arvist (yes, recall my adolescent popularity) I should say that I do not think such inconsideration is necessarily born out of malice. Just ignorance, and self-centredness, and arrogance. (Which is perhaps equally offensive. I retract my explanation.)
Vyerin
P.S. The sheet music is an amusing detail. Did Arvist try to pick up this skill to impress his future bride?
Dear Vyerin,
It baffles and amuses me to think of you as a “Recovered Arvist”. I will say that as much as I enjoy mocking him (and especially his past self), my brother has mellowed of late. (I suppose losing a sister well before her time will do that to someone.) He might still indulge himself in egotism, but he is a surprisingly good father, and, on the rare occasions when we meet, a reasonably thoughtful brother.
S.
P.S. Yes. He is still decidedly not musical, though.
Dear E.,
Allow me to apologise in advance for a perplexing second message! O how my circumstances have changed since last we “spoke”. I arrived at my brother’s home only a few days ago, and already I am set to depart on a new adventure (!) that will keep me away from my Anchorage for the foreseeable future. Do you know that my very first thought was that I must immediately write so you would know my new address? Seized by this desperate mission, I took to my brother’s writing desk, where – would you believe it? – I realised that he is completely bereft of proper letterhead.
I hope this will explain why this notecard reads “Happy birthday, cousin.”
I feel uncomfortable writing another long letter to you after already sending one so recently, so I will save further explanation of these new developments until a future date. In the meantime, if you would like to write to me again, please send all correspondence to:
Scholar Henerey Clel
Berth 14
Research Vessel Sagacity
Boundless Campus Waters
With all usual eagerness,
Henerey
My dear Sophy,
I cannot lie to you. I wanted to lie, though. It is undeniable that the next chronologically relevant entry in our “archive” is a letter sent to Henerey the very day he departed for the Sagacity.
Sadly, said letter has the misfortune of being written by me, Vyerin Clel, infamous enemy of eloquence.
I hoped it would never come to this. I tried diligently to avoid sending you anything I wrote. Please, have mercy.
Anxiously,
V.
Dear Henerey,
I hope this letter will reach you. If it does not, please let me know immediately.
The Clel house echoes with mourning following your untimely departure. Avanne sculpted your bust in memoriam. Reiv sends his best, and I send – well, my mediocre usual. If you tire of the ceaseless whirlwind of activity aboard the Sagacity and wish to live a quiet life as a child-minder and occasional gardener in the Atoll, I have an ideal position in mind for you.
I should not encourage your book-hoarding by adding another to your collection. Still, included in this package is that book you hoped to procure during your stay. Are any of us surprised that you left it behind in your haste, though it was the primary reason for your visit?
May you and your new friend benefit from whatever secrets it can share.
Take care.
Your brother Vy
Dear Vyerin,
I somehow doubt that an “infamous enemy of eloquence” would use such words to describe himself – nor write such a kindly amusing message to his brother. I am grateful for this honour. (And I do mean that most seriously, Vyerin!)
Now, if you will, may we continue without further self-deprecation?
S.
Dear Henerey,
Many thanks for your birthday wishes. Really, considering that you forgot this special occasion for twenty-seven years, I am truly impressed that you saw fit to send me a card at last!
(I considered inscribing this letter in a whimsical card of my own, but soon realised that I have nothing other than this letterhead upon which to write! This profound lack of excess stationery took me by surprise, as I often enjoyed collecting such items when I was younger. On occasion, when we visited Boundless Campus, I loved stopping by the papercraft marketplace in the Merchants’ Anchorage – it has been too long since I visited anywhere! Perhaps both of us could benefit from perusing their wares together one day.)
I must confess that the mysteries of your “new adventure” confound and excite me! Your tone sounded generally positive, so I hope these changes will be welcome. Though you said little of your plans, it is plain to see from your address that you will soon explore the seas as you desire – perhaps the Sagacity will even sail by the Deep House one day. How funny it is to think that at any moment, you could be close to my home. (“Funny” is not truly what I mean, but I will leave it at that.)
It also pains me to use the phrase “my home”, since any ownership of the Deep House seems irrevocably wrested from my grasp. My brother Arvist and my friend Seliara (newly affianced to the aforementioned brother) took up sudden residence in the Deep House in the most surprising way. Though I prefer quiet and solitude above all, I might have accepted them – if they came here simply because they missed the familiarity of our family home! Yet Arvist can think of nothing but his Structure, so I feel quite confident in attributing his arrival to avarice. Today he donned the too-tight diving gear from his teenage years and set off quite stiffly into the garden. Locked in my room, I did not witness this expedition, but heard all about it from a contrite Seliara later in the afternoon when she brought me a cup of tea and an oyster tart as an apology. She told me that Arvist has now confined himself to his studio to devote himself to “divine creation”. With my brother thus occupied, Seliara begged me to leave my quarters and keep her company down below – but I refused, of course, as a matter of principle. I shall not leave my room until I can forgive Arvist for this grim “surprise”.
Perhaps my reaction seems overdramatic – I find myself judging my actions more scrupulously after writing them down for you. Yet, dear Henerey, my Brain is such a terrible force – picture it as your awful Chancellor Rawsel, if you will – that I can only keep its anxieties in check when I have precise control over my surroundings. When faced with the unexpected, I flail and lose my way, and find the trifles that once did not trouble me – such as whether I remembered to check the airlock or the details of troublesome conversations I had ten years ago – have suddenly become the most unfortunate calamities.
But in my room all is peaceful, and I know that, in time, I will come to accept (however much it pains me to admit) Arvist’s presence. Much like you in your penultimate letter, I discovered that the words of my distant friend bring with them a great sense of stability. How funny that is, considering how unexpected it was that we should “meet” in the first place!
(There I go again, saying “funny” as though it perfectly describes this utterly unique experience.)
To link these updates in my life to the questions in your letter, I must now turn again to the Structure. You see, I recently learned that my brother did not, in fact, create it, but alleges he simply found it in our undergarden a little while ago. I have not questioned him further. (Perhaps I will feel inspired to do so once I finish writing to you.) But I do periodically hear his conversations from the stairwell, and he seems to know absolutely nothing of its origins. Really, if it weren’t for the fact that it was located right near his studio window, he may never have discovered it. I desperately wish to view the Structure again, but I dare not go for another dive until I have given up staying in my room out of spite. However, I would be happy to offer some brief recollections from the time when Jeime and I dived around it together.
When I first saw the Structure – a few tide-cycles ago, right after Sophy left – I described it to my sister as a “bowl” or a section of a cylinder abandoned in our undergarden with an odd railing atop it. But I have since produced a more fitting comparison for a Scholar of Classification such as yourself! It is like a Tunicate, Henerey – but instead of a tiny, tube-like invertebrate clustering in colonies of its brethren on the reef, this Structure is enormous and solitary. It has a diameter of about a fathom (which is easy for me to calculate, since Arvist at his full height happens to be about a fathom tall – so I have had a good sense of that unit of measurement ever since he came of age!), and a height of about half that.
That said, I am intrigued beyond belief to hear that my description reminds you of some Fantasy you read in the past. Because Arvist attributed the Structure to wreckage from the Dive calamity, I find myself all too eager to hear more about your ideas. Imagine if it were Antepelagic, as you suggest! That would be most exciting. And, in that case, it would be officially declared an Artefact of Import by the Academy, effectively preventing Arvist from meddling with it. Of course, in order for such a declaration to be made, an endless sea of Scholars of Society would flood the Deep House for seasons to debate the Structure’s provenance, and Arvist would insist upon entertaining them all, and they might even suggest that we dare not dwell in the house anymore, given its proximity to something of such great Import, and demand that we abandon the Deep House so it could be used as an Auxiliary Academy and—
Upon reflection, perhaps “most exciting” is not the best phrase with which to describe this possibility.
Let us leave that wave of thoughts behind! Did you manage to find the book you mentioned while visiting Vyerin? I would love to see it. And, more importantly, did you truly enjoy your visit before being swept away to your vessel? (I sincerely hope that you did benefit from some time for rest and relaxation. I can think of no one more deserving.)
Before the “invasion”, I might have closed this letter by describing my library to you – since you did such a wonderful job of bringing your carrell to life. (How I envy your fossil collection! I have but one such treasure, featuring an impression of some leafy, primordial specimen that likely never expected to “live on” for ages. It astounds me to imagine the world that prehistoric plant knew – a floating island filled with countless life-forms ignorant of the sea! Haunting. And to think that someone from the Atoll like you might find such precious objects in the very soil upon which you live!) However, considering current events, I shall instead furnish for you a more extensive verbal sketch of my quarters, which will continue to serve as my entire universe until further notice.
Surely your familiarity with the Deep House is such that you already know its basic layout – three proper floors, plus a mechanical level to house our various pumps, engines, and pressure filters on the very lowest storey of the house. The library, kitchen, dining room, parlour, and “crystal room” (our fanciful name for the glass-encased viewing deck) comprise the first floor, off of which Arvist’s so-called “studio” emerges. (I hope the spirit of my mother, if she can read this, will know that my vitriol towards this architectural element stems not from her design of the room but from its present inhabitant.) Though Mother and Father kept their bedroom and offices on the third floor, most of the other personal quarters make up the second floor, with mine at the very end of the hallway: the quietest spot in the house, which suits me best.
The decor of my room is also the “quietest”, at least when compared to Sophy’s fixation with novelty and Modern Living (I don’t think there’s anything in her chamber, save her books, that is older than a year – she refreshes her belongings so frequently!) and Arvist’s… well, you can very well imagine what his bedroom looks like. I sleep in a simple bunk, store my clothes in an inset armoire, and write my letters to you on a desk that drops down from the wall (with plenty of drawers, containers, and chests neatly folded into it to keep my clutter of belongings intact). Truly, thanks to these convenient amenities, one could tuck all my furnishings away and never know that someone rests, dresses, and writes within these walls! Only through the wallcoverings do I allow myself some degree of permanence and freedom. It is nothing compared to a Campus gallery, but I curate regular installations of exciting illustrations from periodicals – Natural History illustrations, landscapes, speculative portraits – that catch my fancy. I enjoy spinning about my floor and seeing them blend into one mess of an environment.
Does that help you picture me with greater accuracy? Please do write back with any further questions, and I will be sure to elaborate.
For now, I await updates from your new mission aboard the Sagacity with great eagerness! How I wish I too could sail away.
E.
P.S. Dear Lady Ei is certainly an aspirational figure from “Sailors”. Strangely enough, I found myself fascinated with Lord Neviz. Can you imagine – me, subdued as I am, fond of the boldest and most outgoing of the Sailors? Perhaps it is as that old saying goes about opposing forces drawing together…
P.P.S. After finishing my letter, I realised that I ought to respond to your kind interest in the Structure by simply enclosing a drawing, as I did in my very first letter to you. While the Structure is not nearly as compelling a subject as the Elongated Fish, I hope my humble sketch will offer you some insight into this curious object.
Dear Vyerin,
Perhaps you missed it amid the many blatant barbs at my brother, but E. does something truly remarkable in the final line of the second paragraph.
Do you see it? It is subtle and couched in caution, and yet…
“Perhaps both of us could benefit from perusing their wares together one day.”
I know my sister, and this is as close to a direct invitation to a stranger as she ever made. It delights me to think of her being so bold, and then getting up from and sitting down at her desk over and over again as she imagined exploring the papercraft market with Henerey.
I always found it nigh unbelievable that Henerey and E. met in person so early in their relationship. Now I begin to see the foreshadowing. And it warms my heart like nothing else.
(So much so that I shall forgive my sister’s suggestion that she could “think of no one more deserving” of rest and relaxation than Henerey – it’s not as though my mission of a lifetime was exactly a holiday, sister!)
Sophy
P.S. During one of those childhood market visits E. described, I purchased a purple embossed smooth-kelp diary which I intended to use as a travel journal during our stay. I must have been ten, and E. fourteen? At any rate, I still have this diary, and the first entry I wrote reads “E. purchased seventy-two pages of letterhead today and then sat in the corner and admired them for the rest of the afternoon while the rest of us socialised!”
Sophy,
It is especially amusing when you consider that it was I, not Henerey, who owned no stationery save the infamous “cousin card” and might therefore more appropriately “benefit” from such a shopping trip.
Shall I be miffed that she did not invite me to come along?
V.
P.S. Call it prying of me, but I simply cannot wait to see how the tone of their letters shifts (or does not!) after they meet in person. It will happen “soon” (relatively speaking, as this is the past we are discussing), I hope?
V.,
In recompense for my sister’s thoughtless exclusion of you, please know that I would be happy to shop for stationery in your company at any time – just say the word.
In any case, yes, you will soon be rewarded with what you seek.
You simply must survive the deep-sea drama of the enclosed letters first. (Please apologise to your husband on behalf of Sophy, bringer of the nightmares!)
S.