I wonder…if Julian knows. If he knows, will he come back? If he doesn’t is it because he’s hurt…or is it my fault? I left their company so suddenly, without telling him I was going. I wonder if he’s forgiven me.

In my wanderings, I reached the Great Shaft. Descent. And the Eder Tomahn. It did not ache as K’veer did.

Doctor Watson, of the DRC left his journal here. It is a sad thing, feeling of lost hope, lost dreams, and yet, at the end, there is a glimmer of light. He returned here, just before the Bahro came, bringing new thoughts… one of which I’d been having myself- That to be safe from the Bahro, humans must make a linking book. I wonder if that still stands, or if Yeesha’s efforts have made it moot.

Then again, given the nature of the Art, who would pass up the chance to travel to a world of their own imagining, if only they could write the book… Bahro or not, if the travelers have the tools, they will do.

And they have been doing. I know there must be others here, who did not leave, or who have slowly returned. A smattering, I assume, but I have seen no one.

Surrounded as I am by whispers and shadows and the subtle hint of voices, it did not startle me at all when yesterday I heard voices in the city, they seemed odd, but my mind was focused elsewhere, and I made no note of it. It was only after, relaxing in Tsoghal, that the oddity came clear to me. Those voices had not been speaking in D’ni!

Are many others coming? If they do, what of the Bahro? What of the spirit of this place?

I’ve been told that this place played a great role during the years leading to the Fall, and became a focal point during.  I’ve steadfastly resisted reading the fiction accounts of the Fall, so that what I hear is not coloured by what I expect.

K’veer is so, so sad. The place drips in sorrow. Not the encompasing, collective sorrow of the City, but an abiding, personal sorrow. The sound of the sorrow, the feel of it, changes from room to room, but it is there.

I found a room, debris on the floor, signs of a fire. The pain that was there brought me to my knees. Loss, such deep loss, like a heart torn asunder in an instant, yet tinged with love, and pride, joy, amazement.

What happened here?

I have heard the whispers of others here, but I have yet to come in contact with any other explorer.

To celebrate, a story, of course!

V’tor was a Guildsman of the Surveyors, who sought for himself a bride. He searched through-out D’ni for just the right woman to share his long life with. In time, he had narrowed down his choice to two women. He gathered his friends together and asked, “I can not decide between the two, what would you advise?”

His friends said to him “Well, V’tor… Hara is a beautiful woman, but her family is poor. She is clever with her words, and thoughtful to those around her. Sh’inay, on the other hand, is also beautiful, but her family has great wealth, so she has not wanted for anything.”

V’tor, still torn between them, decided to spend one week in the company of each lady, to see which path Yahvo led him down.

His time with Hara was pleasant, spent reading great works of poetry, and long walks in moonlit ages. They spent much time talking of themselves, and the future.  He asked of her “What would you wish, if we were to be wed?” Hara replied “I ask nothing for myself, but that my family live comfortably for the rest of their days.”

He then spent a week with Sh’inay, who craved the bustle of the market, the richness of the Gallery, the elegance of the great performance hall. In each place, V’tor found himself lavishing gifts upon her. She said to him “Ah, V’tor, you are so clever and generous to know that if we were wed, I must live the life I am accustomed to!”

When the two weeks were done, V’tor gathered his friends together, where they witnessed his proposal to the maiden of his choice. It was no small supprise to them, that he lay down his heart at Sh’inay’s doorstep, and asked her to wed him.

V’tor’s friend Adri went to Hara’s home to comfort her, expecting to find her saddened by the news. Instead he found her smiling, and wishing them all joy.

“Why are you not upset?” he asked.

“Because, it was all foreordained by Yahvo. I knew I would not win him.”

Adri looked puzzled “How so, Hara?”

“Why Adri,” she smiled, “Everyone knows that to the V’tor goes the spoiled.”

When all are gone, I will remain here. Even alone. D’ni needs me.

One day, the King himself came to see the progress being made. The stonemason beheld the King in all his finery, with all his attendants, and in his heart he raised his voice to Yahvo:

“Yahvo, I have worked hard and honestly in service to D’ni all my life. Please, raise me up to live a life of luxury and ease like the King?”

As is often the case, there was no reply, and he bent his weary head back to his work.

When he awoke the next morning, he found his wish granted. He moved into a grand home, high in a wealthy district, and vowed never to set chisel to stone again. He lived in this way for some time, until one day while he took his repose in a beautiful Eder.

The sun blazed high in the sky, causing the man to remove some of his robes, and seek the shade. And as he drifted to sleep in the heat of the day, he sent his thoughts again to Yahvo. “Mighty Yahvo, All my wealth means little, if the sun can send even me running for shelter.”

Again when he woke, he found himself changed, burning high and bright over the world. He gloried in this, and sent burning rays of sunlight onto the Age, withering the plants, and sending the people there fleeing into the Linkin Book back to D’ni.

The sun-man pondered this. “Yahvo” he said “Even the Sun has no power over D’ni, for D’ni lies deep underground, and the people are protected there.” And as the sun set, the man felt himself change once again.

Hard as stone he became, cool and sheltered, the home of the vast thousands of the D’ni, and he thought “Nothing has more power than D’ni!”. But slowly, slowly he heard a sound…a taptaptap…and he saw himself, a lowly stonecutter there, in the tunnel working, slowly taking bits of stone away from the cavern walls.

And in his daydreaming, Yahvo revealed to him that nothing has no power, and nothing has all power, and each thing has a place.