Chapter 21
Dear E.,
Are you still well? Please be as careful and cautious as you can back at the Deep House. It comforts me that you are in the place most comfortable to you. And do remember to use that Vocal Echolator if you need to summon someone quickly – it cannot call me directly but will put you in touch with the nearest Emergency Services transport ship for a speedy rescue.
Compared with my long and tense journey to find you in the Infirmary, my capsule trip to the Spheres was swift and pleasant. And what a welcome I received upon my return! I exited the airlock to find everyone assembled in the entry vestibule (a space intended for perhaps two people at maximum), greeting me with a semi-musical cheer of my name conducted by Irye. I’m sure I even spotted some of my colleagues dancing in a festive way, but I have no evidence to confirm – as I only had eyes for Niea, lovely Niea in a soft coral-pink set of dress robes, looking even more radiant than I remembered.
There were questions, of course – polite inquiries about you and the Deep House and various personages at Boundless whom we might have possibly encountered during our stay on campus. I gave limited answers as quickly as I could, after which I could take it no more and cried:
“By the tides, my friends, will you not tell me what in the world you discovered at the Point of Interest?”
“See!” crowed Ylaret. “Vincenebras, I told you she wouldn’t want to waste her time with small talk!”
“Forgive me for inquiring about our colleague’s wellbeing after she returned from her family emergency,” drawled Vincenebras. His uncharacteristic compassion shocked me and I told him so, which set everyone to laughing again.
Tevn spoke last. In fact, I noticed that he had not joined in the laughter – once I arrived, he pushed himself towards the edge of the vestibule, nodding and smiling at the appropriate junctures. I could not blame the fellow at all for that. In fact, he rather reminded me of you.
“It is unbelievable,” he said. “But it is now our task to make it believable. I am grateful that you joined us again, Scholar Cidnosin. No doubt your insight will prove immensely beneficial to this mission.”
I did not like “joined us”, nor “prove”, to be sure, but at the very least he tried to be complimentary – I believe!
“That is precisely what I wish to know more about,” I replied. “The mission, that is. What do you intend to do next?”
“That is all you have to say?” asked Ylaret.
“You certainly accepted the validity of an inexplicable occurrence at the bottom of the sea much more quickly than I,” said Irye.
“To be fair, I was in a capsule by myself for several hours and had ample time to open my mind to new possibilities,” I replied. “Will you not tell me what you saw?”
“It was Scholar Mawr who discovered it!” announced Vincenebras, clapping Tevn on the shoulder in a gesture of friendship that made its recipient wince. “What luck you’ve brought us, Tevn! Perhaps we should have had you with us from the beginning, eh? No offence, dear Sophy.”
“None taken,” I said slowly, my eyes never leaving Tevn. “Scholar Mawr, then, would you please tell me more about your discovery?”
Now E., I am afraid I must be quite careful about what I tell you next, because as I mentioned, the Chancellors forbade us from sharing anything with the world until we document this “discovery” thoroughly. Will you promise not to breathe a word about it to… say, Henerey, for example? I know you trust him, but I can hardly risk Niea getting into trouble.
Do you promise?
All right, I accept your promise pre-emptively. And I shall be appropriately vague. Beneath the ocean, my colleagues discovered a humanmade bit of architecture, likely a very far-flung piece of a ruin from the Dive.
Now I think I might have been overly vague. To be clear, it is a DOOR, E., or at least it was a door when it graced the entryway of some sky-bound building millennia ago.
Clearly Niea did not befriend Tevn on the merit of his storytelling abilities. He relayed their experience with the door in a lacklustre, anxious account that matched, beat-for-beat, the narrative put forth in the jointly authored mission statement.
He concluded by remarking that in two days we will depart once more, burdened with documentary equipment – more advanced recording machinery, a dazzling array of lanterns, and the whole host of automata, who might prove useful companions as we return to those mysterious depths. The Chancellors, you see, require much more context – “evidence”, as Tevn said with a frown – to further understand the scope of our discovery.
Then the conversation naturally devolved into Irye extemporising about a colleague who once composed an entire symphony about “the Insignificance of Evidence”. Finally – after what felt like hours, truly – my social obligations ended, the crew disappeared into their respective quarters to prepare for the long day ahead, and Niea and I had a moment to ourselves. Or so I thought! A few moments after our moment to ourselves, a metallic knock rang out on Niea’s door.
“Niea,” said Tevn, just outside the chamber, opening the door even while asking for permission to do so, “may I come in? I wanted to—”
He stopped when he saw me, chastely wrapped in an embroidered blanket.
“Scholar Cidnosin? I apologise; were you two already discussing something? How odd to see you here. I did not expect to find—”
“Tev,” said Niea, standing up and putting a hand on his shoulder with an expression of gravitas, “Sophy and I are courting.”
Of course, neither of us had ever announced such a thing aloud before, so you can imagine that I was delighted to hear it, Tevn or not! Imagine me courting someone!
“O,” squeaked Tevn, his face reddening at its edges. “O. My apologies. I understand now.”
“I should have mentioned—” I began.
“It is none of my business, really,” he cut in, flustered. “I just wanted to ask you a few questions about, o dear, our field equipment? For the mission? But that can wait. I hope your nascent relationship is… pleasant?”
With that, he fled, and Niea smiled to herself.
“Poor Tev,” she said. “He might have benefitted from advance notice.”
“Will he detest me now, I wonder?” I asked, far more sadly than I intended.
Niea grasped my hand and looked into my eyes with such care that it took my breath away.
“Are you quite all right, Sophy?”
“How long has Tevn borne feelings for you? Truly?”
Niea grasped my hand still tighter.
“Goodness, Sophy, you are as bad as Vincenebras! How many times must I profess that Tevn and I have a strictly collegial relationship?”
“It is not your interpretation of the relationship that concerns me,” I responded. “It is his. Niea, did you not see how he blushed? How my presence made him quiver?”
“That was because you are wearing only a blanket. In addition, he finds romance and passion and all that overwhelming and uninteresting, for the most part,” said Niea. (In which case, dear E., he is rather like you, though I know you are not immune to the charms of Romance, at least!)
Then I felt simply awful about my jealousy! I thanked her for the reassurance and resolved to handle all this a little more gracefully in the future. Perhaps it is because I had unrequited passion for my dear “friend” Seliara as a child that I projected that experience onto Tevn and Niea. Have I ever had a platonic friend, I wonder? At any rate, I told Niea that because she trusts and respects Tevn, I shall try to do the same.
“I would trust him with my life,” she said gravely. “Though I will say that he is most certainly keeping something from me. And I wish above all to find out what it is.”
What an auspicious way to begin our return to this mysterious door, no?
Until soon (or as soon as I can manage – we depart presently, so you might not hear from me until long after I’ve discovered something wonderful!),
Sophy
Let the record show that I am now very lucky to have found my first platonic friend and archival partner, Vyerin Clel.
What a relief. I desperately worried that you’d fall in love with me.
Dear Sophy,
I know it may be many days before you read this letter, so I will try to keep it short. It was lovely to hear of your warm welcome back at the Spheres, and I am relieved that you and Scholar Mawr reached an unsteady peace. It impresses me that you so readily accepted the existence of this “Door”, and I look forward to discussing it further.
When you return, I don’t suppose there’s any way that I could communicate with you via the Echolator? Even for just a few moments? There is much that I would like to say to you – it is no emergency, you needn’t float back to the surface instantly – but I would enjoy a brief conversation. (In the meantime, please do not worry about me – I have the written company of Scholar Clel, and Jeime and I have been in close contact.)
Stay safe – I do love you,
E.
My dearest E.,
Normally, I read your letters and find myself energised and delighted. Today, if I may be so frank, I am consumed with nothing but longing.
(Upon reflection, perhaps I—could have phrased that better. That is the sort of unwitting statement I might have made in the past and been roundly mocked by my peers for it. You of all people know what I truly mean, I suspect! But alas, paper is still at a premium here, so I will attempt to explain myself better rather than starting over.)
I wanted to write You figured it out, E., but in truth you have done something far greater – you summoned new questions and produced new context that I never could have imagined. I get the sense that this is far greater than we know even now – greater than Eels, greater than a mysterious Structure, greater than your mysterious journey, greater even than a strange Fleet society of which your mother was the last surviving member. (The word “greater” looks rather strange on paper when you write it over and over, doesn’t it?)
And I long to be there with you instead of on this ship. This morning I slumped out to the main deck. I thought that there was no way for me to leave the vessel without abandoning my mission – and it would take days for a transport ship to reach you at the Deep House from our present location (that is, assuming you would even like me to come!). I might beg for some “shore leave”, but I do not want to risk being replaced and sent back to work on campus with Chancellor Rawsel again – perish the thought!
So there I sat, boldly dangling my legs over the edge of the ship (though the lovely cool water was tragically far out of reach), pondering everything you had written and not progressing particularly far in my assessment of what I should do. Moments later, I heard someone settling in beside me, and turned to see – to my relief – Lerin, bearing two cups of tea, one of which quickly found its way into my hands.
“We will not have another ‘Depth-Craft Vigil’ for a few days,” Lerin said conversationally. “The old thing will be stored belowdecks, and no one will think anything of it until five days’ time, when we will need it again.”
“That is interesting,” I replied.
“I thought it would interest you, but your voice suggests otherwise.”
“My apologies. Surprisingly, my thoughts fly far away today – far past the reaches of this ship.”
Lerin laid a friendly hand on my shoulder.
“I know. And I assumed that might be because you would like to visit the Deep House sometime soon. So perhaps I should have begun with this – were you aware that the depth-craft, when launched at full speed and used as intended, could reach that particular part of the ocean before the evening tide?”
Well, that certainly caught my attention!
The venture is not without its risks. Lerin volunteered to cover for me, but I still suspect the Chancellors would not be pleased if they ever discover that I commandeered a depth-craft for personal (research) purposes. Still, E., I feel very much as though we could work through this together if not constrained by medium of correspondence. I hope this will not come across as inappropriately overprotective, but it would bring me great comfort to know that you will not be alone when you venture out to see the Structure – or should I say “Entry”? – again. (And also, this means that we would be able to investigate it from the comfort of a depth-craft. It might surprise you, but I am not over-fond of diving. The options for aesthetically pleasing patterns in wetsuit fashion are so restricted, you know.)
Finally, I must admit I would still yearn to see you even if we were without the excuse of attempting to solve a historical riddle.
As before, however, I leave the decision entirely in your hands. Please let me know your thoughts, and I will begin to set my plans in motion.
Yours, as ever,
Henerey
It seems relevant to mention that I turned to my archives in search of more information about Henerey’s colleague Lerin. Again employing the assistance of my (thank you, Reiv, for that additional annotation) husband, I managed to uncover an unopened letter sent to me a year ago. In fact, it was among many condolences bestowed upon me by Henerey’s colleagues – I simply could not bear to read endless streams of words that did nothing but reiterate that he was gone. But I feel that this one might have brought me some comfort, had I been in the correct emotional state to peel back its seal.
It seems silly to write this down when we have already discussed it at length, but by the seas – E. and Henerey had a depth-craft during the seaquake! That gives them slightly more of a fighting chance, doesn’t it? But where did it – and they – go?
Dear Capt. Clel,
Pardon me. I stole your address from a “Notice of Loss” posted at Boundless’ School of Observation. (“Stole” is not an extreme exaggeration, as I did literally tear the paper to take your contact details away with me. I am always somehow without a pencil.)
Let me proceed to the point. I miss Henerey very much. I never quite know how to write in response to death, but if it might cheer you to learn that your lost loved one was indeed well loved by everyone who had the chance to strike up a firm friendship with him, then – well, please know that was very much the case.
Henerey spoke constantly of E. Cidnosin, and I can only imagine that, if given a second chance to decide whether to visit that house on that fateful day, he would not have changed his plans. That, at least, comforts me.
Now it’s time for something quite sentimental that I doubt any other well-wisher will be capable of sharing with you. During our brief acquaintance aboard the Sagacity, I often teased Henerey about his fondness for creatures that some might find rather unsettling. The Winged Nudibranchs, for example, which flutter like flying fish in the First Ocean waters (and which we discovered together), seemed perfectly charming to him. (I found them horrific but awe-invoking – truly Sublime.) At any rate, I have proposed to the Department of Classification that we call this particular species “Clel’s Winged Nudibranch”. I will think of your brother each time I look upon those eerie creatures (which, unfortunately, is more often that I would like) – and I hope that might bring you some pleasure.
With fondest regards,
Schr Lerin Zuan Vellen
P.S. You may wish to avoid reading this postscript until years hence, because I have a more practical question for you. Have you any idea what became of Henerey’s scientific journals from his time aboard the Sagacity? He shared with me some remarkable hypotheses about the behaviour of our infamous rays, and I think they are worthy of further investigation by his colleagues. I attempted to raise this in the Department (when suggesting the aforementioned memorial Nudibranch renaming), but they ignored me entirely. If his writings on the subject still exist, I would encourage you to seek publication for them.
Even via alternative channels, if necessary.
Dearest Henerey,
It is well past three in the morning, but giddiness kept me from my bedtime. Your – “plans”, as I shall euphemistically term them – leave me breathlessly anxious, but I accept them. So long as you’re sure that your journey in the depth-craft will go safely, I would love nothing more than to see you. Of course, I shall certainly spend the next few hours fixating on all the possible ways in which our plans could go awry, but I pulled out my sketching materials and now scribble to keep my mind busy. (This activity often helps me resist the urge to “check” things when I feel anxious.)
Please do not be troubled! I do not anticipate that our meeting will involve anything other than the indescribable delights of enjoying your presence while simultaneously assessing the nature of the Entry from a depth-craft. If we happen to make a slight detour into that luminescent world – well, then, I will consider myself lucky to do so in your company. (Was that too bold? I am far too weary to care.)
Yours with love,
E.
Dearest E.,
I must be brief. The plans I set in motion are moving indeed. Somehow, impossibly, barring an error in navigation, I will be at the Deep House in a mere three hours. Perhaps I shall even beat this letter there! In which case, I presume you will open this letter after I’ve already left. I hope we enjoyed our time together in the future!
There is much more that I wish to say to you
I assume you chose the words with which to sign off your letter after an exhausting evening of research and perhaps you did not intend to express the exact sentiment that you expressed but I very much happen to agree but I do not wish to echo it back to you until I have confirmed that you are comfortable
O, never mind all that – I will see you soon!
Yours with love and haste,
Henerey
Dear future readers,
I write this while tucked away in the very belly of that funny little depth-craft my colleagues were all so eager to avoid, riding off on a secret journey to visit my dear correspondent E. and investigate a mysterious Structure! I feel like a boy again (which is a funny statement indeed, as I am quite sure that I never defied social expectations and professional responsibilities in the name of Love and Discovery like this when I was younger).
It turns out that I am quite a deft hand at captaining! Which is to say that even this old thing possesses automatic navigation. Hence I may journal while I slide through the water at an alarming speed. And can you guess what else? Up above me, far away on the surface, I spy a distinctive silhouette that I recognise as a mail-boat! Yes, it is that sleek, conical vessel in its recognisable blue and gold. Thanks to a fine engine, it moves just about as fast as my depth-craft. Perhaps I should have stowed away on one of those instead and avoided this whole affair. At any rate, it delights me that I may now cruise in the mail-boat’s wake and enjoy the same journey undertaken by many of our letters carried to and from the Deep House!
I am not entirely alone inside the depth-craft – to my surprise, I see a small sandfly buzzing about the control panels. I must confess that I know very little of insects (my studies have focused so entirely on marine animals that those who fly and skim their way across the water make me feel completely out of my depth!). I marvel that this otherwise unremarkable representative of the species has become a pioneer – the first of its kind, perhaps, to travel so far and so fast beneath the waves. (Or perhaps every day a new fly becomes trapped by accident in a depth-craft and perishes, never telling its peers what lies beyond their world. Goodness, what a morose thought. How unlike me!)
In any case, I appreciate the insect’s companionship, because I am slightly anxious about what might await me when I return – what a lovely word to use – to the Deep House. What E. and I shared over the past few months seems too unbelievable to be true. As much as I cling to that one glimmering evening we spent in each other’s company, there is a part of me that fears she will face disappointment once she meets me again. (I must have changed the visual narrative of my outfit four times this morning in preparation. I hope I look my best in the final option – attempting an elegant yet adventurous appearance, with a flexible floor-length Research Robe that would prove suitable both for quiet conversation in a cosy corner of a library or sloshing through waist-deep algae for a field investigation.) Yet I force myself to turn to the letters and reread them again and again in these moments of doubt, letting her words face off with my fears. O, E., she is like no other. Now I gaze off into these sunset-hued clouds that I can spy – filtered through the water – with the rosiest and most sentimental of emotions.
I find the journey increasingly turbulent as we draw closer to the reefs. Unfortunately, even with its convenient speed, this depth-craft does not offer such useful, modern features as safety restraints – so I fear that I must abandon my pen and cling as tightly as possible to the wall in the hopes that I will not be too irreparably jostled!
I shall sign off here, at last. Since I’ve now reached the last page, I hope I might be able to drop off this daybook at E.’s home before we head out on our mission. I do so hate having too many things in my bag when I do not need them. I will carry my usual scientific journal with me, of course, to record any observations that cannot wait until we return to the Deep House and enjoy a cup of tea.
Sincerely,
Schr Henerey Clel
So there you have it. The last thing my brother ever wrote, as far as I know. Optimistic, earnest, vulnerable.
I never thought that we would find such an intentional finale of a document. It felt tragic enough to think that my brother and his mysterious love interest planned a romantic tryst that ended in disaster.
All we have read and seen thus far, however, suggests that our siblings were better prepared for this calamity than we expected. I know we hoped that compiling this narrative would help us better understand what happened in the past. Yet it seems that we may only succeed in that mission by bringing this mystery into the present and employing all that is at our disposal to solve it.
(I am in accord, of course. –S.)