Part Three
~Fan Fiction~
Tewa's Journal
160.5.19
An unforeseen complication has arisen! That miserable Hurvig has horned in on us! We are to meet him at Grandfather's house, that is, at Uncle Selamin's house, in two days and all link into Tigano together. As Sea Cliff House belongs to Klayo, whose wife is Hurvig's sister, we have no choice of his company if that is our destination. Eamon and I are so looking forward to the treasures of knowledge that might be hidden away at Sea Cliff, we can think of no other place we'd rather go. Father and uncle gave us that option, but our hearts are set on Sea Cliff.It appears that Hurvig's desire to explore the library is as great as our own, and he refuses to let us have any time there alone first. Our family tradition means nothing to him and even uncle Klayo was unsympathetic, though he said at dinner that he relishes the memory of his own adventure and was quick to recommend we go to Holvine as he did.
Oh, the thought of having Hurvig with us! Of all people! Though he is always as polite as a courtier, Hurvig has always made me feel uneasy. He seems so secretive, so sly and watchful, that I find myself expecting him to suddenly pounce on me. I almost feel as if I'm being stalked by a reptile that may not be quite large enough to swallow me whole, but could certainly manage it in two bites. There is something almost devious about Hurvig. I ought not even think such things about a fellow D'ni and I'm ashamed even to admit them here in private, but I'm not altogether sure of what he's capable.
When we came away from uncle Klayo's house tonight, Eamon was really annoyed. It takes a great deal to make him angry, and I don't think even this had pushed him that far, but he was terribly annoyed and disappointed. We agreed that since there are two of us and only one of Hurvig, we would be able to watch each other's interests, though neither one of us is inclined to underestimate him. He's a good deal older and more experienced than we are, and apparently a skilled manipulator.
Lianis, though a Surveyor, has worked on projects with the Stonemasons and he's told Eamon and I, as family and in confidence, some things he's seen Hurvig do. Some little maneuverings, nothing really wrong in itself, but not exactly the straight and direct behavior that is usually associated with a guildman's honor. There are things you have to get off your chest, but can't speak of openly, and that's how Lianis felt about this. Whether it is my own impression of Hurvig that makes me uneasy, or Lianis' descriptions of him, I'm not certain, but I cannot like him.
At least he does all his own work himself. You can't fault him for that. He's a very talented artesian, and his devotion to his work is fundamental to his nature. As he's been made such use of by his superior in the Guild without receiving proper credit for so many years, so Lianis says, it's not such a great wonder that he doesn't trust others completely, but no matter how understanding of his situation I am, I cannot help being annoyed by his presence on our excursion.
160.5.21
The meeting this morning went well enough. Eamon and I arrived at Grandfather's, I mean uncle Selamin's, house first and spent some time in the library there waiting for Hurvig. There isn't much that we haven't seen in that library. Eamon says he's systematically been through each volume over the years. We were sitting there, anxious to be off, and sorry that we wouldn't be able to talk freely on the journey, when Hurvig walked in. He was very pleasant, as usual, but I didn't like the quiet way he entered the room. I have no idea how long he'd been standing there observing us and listening to our conversation before we became aware of him. How can you trust someone who sneaks up on you like that?We said our farewells to Uncle Selamin and Aunt Terchi, and linked through to Tigano. Hurvig had a little Guild business in the village, which would delay him a full day, and he'd extended to us a generous invitation to stay as his guests at an Inn there, managed by a friend of his, which is famed for its beauty. He so handled it that we couldn't refuse. All our aunts and uncles were delighted with his generosity and his desire to make our trip a memorable one. He broached the offer in a spirit of camaraderie, but Eamon and I both felt that it was more a matter of not wanting us to gain a day's head start, than chumminess.
The Inn, however, is really beautiful. It is a sprawling warren of low stone buildings, connected at their intersections with little pentagonal foyers. The builders do not seem to have taken down many trees to make room for it, but built it in and around a grove of towering evergreens and deciduous mammoths.
The outer walls and the roofs of the Inn are overgrown in many places with a leafy climbing plant that attaches itself to stone and grows profusely, making the building blend into the setting as if it were carved out of the natural terrain, around the flora that just happened to be there on the site.
The corridors are lined just below the ceiling with small windows of orange tinted glass, giving the feeling of underground light, and all the chamber windows can be tinted or cleared, as the occupant wishes. It is very well laid out, and the workmanship is perfect. The lines are clean and smooth, the sculpting gracefully simple. I was told that it had been considered rustic when first built. I suppose our standards of building have declined a little since the Fall.
The Inn stands on a slight rise, affording a view of the village on the south side, and a view of the distant mountains on the north. I can see the Falls of Teeka from the window of my chamber. Even at this great distance they are a very clear sight. It is said their thunder can be heard from the north terrace on a still morning. One day I would very much like to visit the Falls and the natural caves behind them.
There are gardens surrounding the Inn, many interesting walks, and very beautiful vistas in every direction. Even the herb and vegetable gardens are decorative and lush. The food here is excellent. The freshest ingredients are prepared in a simple fashion that shows off the high quality of the local produce. Our dinner this evening was delightful. I must grudgingly admit that Hurvig's taste is to be trusted, whatever the condition of his heart.
160.5.22
Our walk to Sea Cliff began early this morning, just after dawn. We took turns pulling our little cart of supplies. The first part of our road was paved with stone flagging, for the traffic to and from the seaside goes that way. We rested and had our lunch at the small way station that stands just about where we branch off the main road on the track to Sea Cliff.The country through which we thereafter traveled was forested with many varieties of trees. As we walked farther from the common road, the trees became older, taller, and more dense. Their outstretched branches met and intertwined above our heads. I knew I was outside on the surface of an Age, but I had the curious sensation of feeling I was indoors walking down a corridor filled with yellow sunlight and fluttering shades of green.
The air was rich with the scent of fertile earth, and so still here that each little rustle and chirp and flutter of the birds seemed like the first time such a sound had ever broken the silence. We hadn't spoken much during the trip and what little conversation there was died down completely as we walked through the forest, enjoying the silence and the ancient serenity of the massive trees.
We came out of the forest at last and saw the road stretch out before us toward the sea, winding its way across a sloping meadow. Uncle Selamin had told us that he had the road cleared yearly, though the house wasn't in use. We paused then, the three of us searching the scene with wonderment, for we had been assured that the house would be visible from the top of the slope, and there was the road leading off in that direction, but nothing met our eyes that could be described as a house.
What we saw was a huge pile of rugged boulders amidst a grove of trees and bushes standing roughly midway between the edge of the forest and the edge of the cliff. As it was the only thing other than meadow grasses on the peninsula, we assumed the house must be hidden behind it. We took the path, which led in that direction.
As we approached, the sound of the sea became gradually louder. The fresh salt air, blown into our faces by the gentle breeze, was a pleasant thing on this bright late afternoon, but I imagined it would be a very different thing in the dark, or in colder weather. I wondered what type of house we'd find and why Grandfather hadn't built it behind the shelter of that rocky hill, rather than exposed to the wind and weather on the seaward side. Had he prized the view of the sea so much more than warmth or comfort?
Eamon walked in the front of the cart with his back to the bar that ran between the handles, his bulk helping to keep its speed slow as we followed the road down the last steep grade toward the hill. Hurvig and I stood within the handles on the opposite end, holding the edge of the cart in front and letting the bar at our backs assist us in keeping its pace steady. I suppose it was our preoccupation with this task that kept us from sooner noticing that the hill, the pile of rocks and trees and bushes we'd seen from the top of the slope, was not a natural formation, but was itself the house!
The ground leveled off and spread into a wider area where the grass on either side had been mowed back from the road a few feet. We pushed the cart in the only direction open to us, towards the right and around an outcropping of hedge and stone that formed a wall. As we came round the corner, we saw a courtyard of perfectly set flag stones surrounded by a beautifully carved wall of blue-veined buff colored stone, topped with a smooth blue cap of lapis that ran its length and culminated in a small globe and pillar of the same stone near the open two-leaved gates.
We stood in mute wonder, as we recognized the beauty of the work we were seeing. From within the courtyard, where we left the cart, we saw the door of the house. Recessed deeply in a large central boulder of the buff colored local stone, the door sat in a frame created by the intricate carvings. The courtyard itself was open to the sky, though sheltered from the wind, but the recessed area before the door made an inviting vestibule with the feel of entering a cave such as any D'ni would have found welcome after a walk in the open.
The floor of this vestibule was a mosaic of stone in a simple geometric pattern, the colors of which seemed to blend those of the courtyard and those of the doors, which were of a D'ni stone the likes of which I'd never seen. It had some elements of the local stone, buff shot with blue, but there was also quartz of blue and rose in it, and pyrite, which glittered softly in the waning light.
Whether it was from the fatiguing length of our walk, or the surprising beauty and comfort of this place, it seemed that none of us could speak, though we said much with our eyes as we exchanged glances. Hurvig stroked the gentle curves of the door's heavy carving with reverence. We had always heard this house referred to in denigrating tones as a rustic camp, but with the wonder of the courtyard and vestibule in our imaginations, we looked to the door with breathless anticipation. Using the great key that uncle Klayo had entrusted to him, Hurvig pushed open the door and we entered the Hall.
The first hall was a small circular room with twin doors of relatively small scale on the left and right as we entered, and larger two-leaved doors ahead, opposite the large house door. These doors were of the same stone as the house door, but there were large heavy ovals of cut glass set into the center of each. Soft orange light came through the glass. Hurvig strode forward, grasped the handles and swung them open as he walked through. I followed him into the chamber beyond.
The floor of this great oval room was set with stones of subtly different colors in a simple geometric pattern that matched the floor in the outer vestibule but on a much greater scale. The cream colored walls and buff columns rose towards a high domed ceiling. The columns branched out to form the ribs of the dome, culminating in a crown from which depended a simple, striking lamp in the same large scale of the room. The ceiling of the dome was of a translucent pale orange stone that admitted light without glare.
There was comfortable looking furniture arranged in conversational groups around the room. All along the side opposite us there were pairs of doors which matched the ones we'd just come through. These opened onto an enclosed garden thrice the size of the room we were in. It was much overgrown, but one could see how delightful it would be to stroll there in good weather, and how pleasant a view it created.
I cannot begin to describe what we've found in this house! Our fatigue seemed to vanish as we explored. It was quite dark when we came to our senses and realized that our cart sat fully loaded in the open courtyard and we'd not eaten a thing since lunch. After a hasty unpacking and picnic dinner, we chose our chambers. My mind races, but my body insists upon rest.
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