The Myst Reader Read Free Page A

that the sack’s mouth was tied with the same red twine as the seed bag.
    “What is it?”
    “Look and see,” she said, taking her knife and handing it to him by the handle. “But be careful. It might bite.”
    He froze, looking to her, perplexed now.
    “Oh, go on,” she said, laughing softly. “I’m only teasing you, Atrus. Open it.”
    Slowly, reluctantly, he slipped the blade beneath the twine and pulled. The mouth of the sack sighed open.
    Putting the blade down on the rock, he lifted the glasses up onto the top of his head, then grasped the sack’s neck, slowly drawing it open, all the while peering into its dark interior.
    There was something there. Something small and hunched and …
    The sound made him drop the sack and jerk back, the hairs at his neck standing up with shock.
    “Careful …” Anna said, bending down to pick the sack up.
    Atrus watched, astonished, as she took out something small and finely furred. For a moment he didn’t understand, and then, with a shock, he saw what it was. A kitten! Anna had bought him a kitten!
    He made a sound of delight, then, getting to his feet, took a step toward her, bending close to look at the tiny thing she held.
    It was beautiful. Its fur was the color of the desert sand at sunset, while its eyes were great saucers of green that blinked twice then stared back at him curiously. In all it was no bigger than one of Anna’s hands.
    “What is it called?” he asked.
    “She’s called Pahket.”
    “Pahket?” Atrus looked up at his grandmother, frowning, then reached out and gently stroked the kitten’s neck.
    “The name’s an ancient one. The eldest of the traders said it was a lucky name.”
    “Maybe,” Atrus said uncertainly, “but it doesn’t feel right. Look at her. She’s like a tiny flame.” He smiled as the kitten pressed against his hand and began to purr noisily.
    “Then maybe you should call her that.”
    “Flame?”
    Anna nodded. She watched her grandson a moment, then spoke again. “There’s a small clay bowl in the kitchen …”
    Atrus looked up. “The blue one?”
    “Yes. Flame can use it. In fact, she could probably do with some water now, having been in that sack.”
    Atrus smiled, then, as if he’d done it all his infant life, picked the kitten up with one hand, cradling it against his side, and carried her across, vaulting up the steps in twos and threes before ducking inside the kitchen. A moment later he reemerged, the bowl in his other hand.
    “Come on, Flame,” he said, speaking softly to the kitten as if it were a child, his thumb gently rubbing the top of its head, “let’s get you a drink.”

     
    AS DARKNESS FELL, ATRUS SAT ON THE narrow balcony that ran the length of the outer sleeping chamber, the dozing kitten curled beside him on the cool stone ledge as he stared up at the moon. It had been a wonderful day, but like all days it had to end. Below and to his right, he could see his grandmother, framed in the brightly lit window of the kitchen, a small oil lamp casting its soft yellow glow over her face and upper arms as she worked, preparing a tray of cakes. They, like the kitten, were a treat, to celebrate his seventh birthday in two days’ time.
    The thought of it made him smile, yet into his joy seeped an element of restlessness. Happy as he was here with his grandmother, he had recently begun to feel that there was more than this. There
had
to be.
    He looked past the moon, following a line of stars until he found the belt of the hunter, tracing the shape of the hunter’s bow in the night sky as his grandmother had taught him. There were so many things to know, so many things yet to learn.
    And when I’ve learned them all, grandmother?
    He remembered how she had laughed at that, then leaned toward him.
There’s never an end to learning, Atrus. There are more things in this universe, yes, and more universes, than we could ever hope to know.
    And though he did not quite understand what she had meant by