Binary Part 17

Ka Vail whirled. "You shut up." He turned back looking at Sandon suspiciously. "I may be old, but I'm no fool, Atavist. I've seen one too many of your people recently. And none of it has led to any good. Now, what are you doing here?"

"I come with a message for Roge from Princ.i.p.al Men Darnak."

"Who?"

"Leannis Men Darnak."

Ka Vail seemed to consider this for a moment. At the same time, the other man stepped forward. Karryl Ky Menin! What in the name of the First Families was the Head of the Guild of Technologists doing here at the Ka Vail residence? There could only be one reason. There was about to be some sort of action within the Princ.i.p.ate.

"Leannis Men Darnak. Speaking of old fools," said Ky Menin. "Well, Roge, or should I say, Princ.i.p.al Men Darnak is no longer here. He has left."

Sandon gave a growl of frustration. "By the Prophet," he muttered.

Ky Menin peered at him suspiciously. "You're a very strange Atavist. And why would Men Darnak have an Atavist running messages for him?" He continued looking suspiciously. Sandon felt suddenly very uncomfortable.

"I was sent with the message by the Princ.i.p.al. I am called Tchardo. And as the Prophet willed it, I was taken on by Witness Kovaar to the Princ.i.p.al's party."

Ka Vail turned to his fellow Guildmaster. "Men Darnak has been known to do stranger things, Karryl. And that Kovaar's a strange enough bird. I see no real reason to doubt it, but it leaves us with a slight problem."

"Well, perhaps," said Ky Menin. "So what is this message?"

Sandon looked at Ky Menin and back at Ka Vail, knowing that he had no choice. Slowly he recounted the tale of the Men Darnak party's ejection from Karin's estates and the disrespect with which she had treated the old man.

"And so," he finished. "The Princ.i.p.al has sent me to inform Roge that he will be traveling to his holdings and to make ready. That man over there," he said, pointing to Edvin, "can confirm everything I have told you."

Ky Menin turned to Ka Vail. "It rings true. The old fool doesn't know when he's done. But then you would never expect him to."

Sandon felt the seed of anger start to grow within him. "And you would do well to show some respect for your Princ.i.p.al."

"He's not my Princ.i.p.al any more, Atavist," Ky Menin said quietly and calmly. "And you should learn your place."

"And you know yours?" Sandon hissed.

"That's enough," said Ky Menin. "You will speak when I ask you to or not at all."

"What gives you the right?" said Sandon. "The Prophet will see to proper order."

"I have more right than you will ever know," countered Ky Menin with a slight sneer.

Ky Menin's att.i.tude, Edvin, the whole thing suddenly became too much. Sandon barely restrained the urge to reach out a hand, ready to wipe the sneering smile from Ky Menin's face. He had to remember who he was supposed to be, to retain control. The Guildmaster stepped quickly back, noting the tension, and gestured to the Ka Vail staff. "Hold him." No sooner had he said it, than Sandon was grabbed firmly again from either side.

"No!" Sandon said through gritted teeth. He struggled, trying to break their grip.

Ky Menin watched him with a slightly amused expression. "So, Aron," he said. "It appears we have another problem. I suggest we lock him in one of your garages until I work out what we're going to do with him. Let him sit and be intimate with all of the technology he despises so much. He might learn a lesson or two in there."

"We simply can't do that," said Ka Vail.

"Of course we can," said Ky Menin. "Who's going to stop us?"

"But we risk offending Men Darnak, and in the current circ.u.mstance..."

"And so what?" Ky Menin's voice had become firm. "Leannis Men Darnak is the past. What do we care if we offend him? Go," he said to the other men. "Take him. Lock him up. Let him think upon his blessed Prophet and what he truly believes."

Sandon glared back over his shoulder as he was dragged away toward the storage sheds. Ka Vail and Ky Menin were returning to the house. Edvin was standing there watching, a smug grin on his face. Finally, all the fight just went out of him; he was just too tired to struggle any more.

The groundcar stuttered once or twice as they pulled out of the holdings and headed into the open countryside. Jarid, one hand hanging beside his seat, fingered the tool thoughtfully. He knew exactly what he was going to do now, but he had to find the right moment...far enough away from the estates, but not too far along their journey. He needed to get back, to warn them of the terrible thing that had happened....

Roge was concentrating on the way ahead, thankfully not talking for the moment, though occasionally lapsing into brief mutters to himself. Jarid watched through narrowed eyes. He traced the side of Roge's cheek, his neck in his minds eye, looking for the spot, testing the action in his head. He kept part of his attention on the surrounding landscape, what little he could make out in the darkness and the rain. Water spattered against the front screen, running in rivulets and waves, blurring the dim smudged image of the outside.

There! There was what he was looking for. A stand of trees lay off to one side. Mostly, the surrounding countryside had been cleared of trees, but a few remained here and there. Here was his opportunity. Taking a grip on the tool's handle, Jarid took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Then, in one quick motion, he lifted his hand, slamming the tool into Roge Man Darnak's neck.

Roge's eyes went wide. A strangled cry and his hands flew to his throat. Jarid pulled back, wresting free his makeshift weapon and plunged again. As Roge scrabbled at his neck, trying to dig the shaft from his neck, Jarid leaned across and slapped the controls, bringing the groundcar to a halt. There was blood. Blood all over his hands, all over his clothes and the smell of it filled the confined s.p.a.ce. Roge was struggling, bucking, making strangled sounds in his throat. Once more for good measure. He gripped the tool, yanked it free and then plunged it back into Roge's chest, burying to the handle. Then he sat back and watched as the last of Roge Men Darnak's life left him.

It didn't take him long to set the controls, pointing the groundcar toward the cl.u.s.ter of trees. As he watched the vehicle plow into the heavy ajura wood trunks, the rain beat down upon him, sluicing his face and hair, washing the Men Darnak blood away. With one last look at the crumpled groundcar, Jarid nodded his satisfaction, slipped the tool, the evidence away, and turned, starting the long trek back to the estates.

Markis looked around at his companions and around at the camp in which he now sat. A few wagons, the small ca.n.a.l with the longboats moored in place with thick ropes, the shed, cobbled together from bits of old metal and wood providing some sort of shelter from the weather; all of it so unfamiliar. Nothing seemed to make sense any more. All he really knew was that he had to keep low for a while. Maybe with time, all this strangeness would simply blow away.

And speaking of blowing, he'd been heading back to the mines when the most recent storm had descended on him with a vengeance. Desperately seeking somewhere out of the elements, he had stumbled upon this camp, this small way station used by the population of itinerant workers that roamed the countryside.

"Hey, Marky. What you doin' 'ere, staring at the water, eh?"

"Hmm? Oh, h.e.l.lo, Abaile. Just thinking I suppose."

"Well, thinking too much never did no man no good, Marky. Come get something to eat and something hot to drink."

Markis pushed himself to his feet, brushed off his thighs and glanced over at the shelter where the rest of the men were cl.u.s.tered around a fire. His companion, Abaile seemed to be the main speaker for this small group of half a dozen travelers. He was a tall, rangy man, bordering on the edges of middle age. Everything about him exuded an aura of unkemptness, and the same was true of his fellow workers. They were currently on their way to some of the larger estates, looking for whatever employment might be on offer. Abaile had already made it quite clear that they were not particularly fussy about what they managed to get. They'd do anything if it paid. Bands like this roamed the countryside, working the factories in Clear and migrating to farm work in the less-forgiving Storm. There were always tasks in the weather's height that groups like this were eager to do for little pay, some food and a place to sleep when the day was done.

"Thanks," said Markis. "Have you worked out where you're going yet?"

As they wandered back to join the group, Abaile explained again. "No, Marky, as I told you, we don't make no plans like that. We take what we get. We'll head on up to the big houses, ask around. That's the way it works."

"But what about your families?"

They hunkered down around the fire together and Abaile looked around the faces of his companions and grinned. "Our families," he said. "Yes, well. I have a woman or two in a couple of the bigger camps around the place, and I'd be sure there's offspring there with a couple of them." He shrugged, still grinning, and one or two returned the grin.

Markis scratched his head. "But I don't understand how it works. How can that be right?"

Abaile reached for a bowl and spooned himself some of the hot mess bubbling away in a pot over the fire. He tossed Markis a bowl and said, "There, help yourself."

"There ain't nothing to be right," he continued. "It just is. It's about the work, and that's it. We get it where we find it. We can't be going around tied to one place, now can we? We got to follow the work, and the only way sometimes is to be there first, or we don't get it. Rather be sweating and tired than hungry." He frowned at Markis, crouched there with an empty bowl in his hand, and gestured at the pot. "Hey?"

Markis reached over and spooned himself a bowl of the nondescript stuff, hesitantly lifted some to his mouth and blew on it. Cautiously, he tipped the very end of the spoon between his lips. It actually didn't taste too bad.

"But how do people come to do that?"

"How do you mean? Some of us are born to it. Others, well, you know. There's a bit of trouble here, a problem there, they have to find somewhere to go. I'd say more on that, but it wouldn't be right. Just like we're not going to ask why you're here, Marky, if you see what I mean."

He did see. He still couldn't really understand what such a life must mean to these people. How could anyone just drift from place to place on the hope they could earn enough to feed themselves? Of course, he had known about these bands of itinerant workers, and even employed them himself on a number of occasions. There were many opportunities within Primary Production for groups such as this. And now, he might as well just be one of them.

As he lifted another spoonful to his mouth, he came to a decision. If he stayed with Abaile and the others, then he would be out of the public eye. Here he could wait for things to calm down, find out something more of these people at the same time, and when it was right, he could seek out his father and put things right. Just maybe, he could learn something that would a.s.sist the Guild and its work. He would show his father his worth, despite what Jarid might have said to turn the old man against him.

Twenty-One.

"What do you mean they've taken that Atavist -- what was his name -- and locked him up? That's unbelievable, Priest. You cannot truly believe that."

Leannis Men Darnak frowned sternly at Witness Kovaar, testing the man's seriousness. It was all so wrong, but then, there was so much wrong at the moment. He and the remaining men had been stationed at one of the smaller holdings over the past couple of days, since Karin had sent him away. Since the... since...

What was happening?

At least the sky was clear. There was a chill wind blowing outside, but the rain had eased. Where were the rest of his people? Something had happened. Perhaps he'd sent them on some errand. He'd have to find out what it was. Maybe he would remember later.

"Princ.i.p.al," said Kovaar. "It is true, it seems. One of your household had it from one of Karin's people. That man Edvin returned from the Ka Vail estate gloating about it all over the house."

"Edvin? Edvin? Who is that?"

"You remember, Princ.i.p.al. He's the Head of Karin's household."

"Head of...? Remember? Oh yes. Odious little man. Why are things becoming so hard? Things seem to be slipping away from me every day. This cannot be right, Kovaar."

Kovaar came over and rested a hand on Men Darnak's shoulder. "There is much that is not right, Princ.i.p.al. You have a lot on your mind. It's only natural."

"What? Yes, that's it. They've confined Tchardo. I will not have it. That man went there carrying a message for me. There is no reason for them to hold him. Although it's strange that he was at Ka Vail's place, don't you think? Ka Vail has always been an ally, if not a friend. Why would he do such a thing?"

"Apparently Roge was there too, Princ.i.p.al."

Men Darnak walked away from Kovaar, dragging himself from beneath the hand on his shoulder. He needed to think.

"We will go there then."

"Princ.i.p.al, would it not be easier just to send someone with orders to have him released? You could send a couple of the men."

Men Darnak whirled. "No! We will go, Priest. Roge is there. Ka Vail is there. I will be there. I will see them both and have that man released at the same time. That way we will work out what's going on."

Kovaar sighed. "Are you sure, Princ.i.p.al?"

Men Darnak stalked across the intervening s.p.a.ce toward him. "Don't you start questioning me too. Don't you dare! It's time to fix this mess. Go and see to the preparations." He turned away again, ignoring the priest. He wandered around the edges of the room, touching vaguely familiar things. He frowned as he walked. Vaguely familiar. That was the problem. His memory used to be so good. He was not that old yet. Well, yes, he was old, but not so old that he should be losing parts of his memory. He turned back, and Kovaar was still standing there.

"Well? What are you waiting for?"

"But, Princ.i.p.al -- "

"Just see to it!" he shouted and turned away. If the man was still standing there by the time he turned around again, by the First Families, he would know about it, priest or not.

Three men and a priest -- that was no way for a Princ.i.p.al to travel. Still, there was nothing to be done about it now. He seemed to remember just one of the men. The rest were unfamiliar, new faces. He must remember to ask Witness Kovaar what had happened to the others. But that could wait for now; the Ka Vail estates were ahead. At least this time it had been mere hours, and not days.

As they drew up the main entrance road, there was already someone there to meet them. Two of Ka Vail's household staff stood at the main gate, watching as the party approached. One of the men clearly recognized him, because he stepped forward, his arms wide.

"Princ.i.p.al Men Darnak," he said. "This is indeed an honor. Welcome to Guildmaster Ka Vail's estate."

"Thank you," Men Darnak said, nodding in response. He slid from his animal and stood waiting for the man to approach. The rest of his party sat where they were, awaiting his instruction.

"Princ.i.p.al," the man said, drawing close. "I was in attendance with Guildmaster Ka Vail on a number of occasions, both at your estates and at the main Guild House in Yarik. Of course, I don't expect you would remember, but really, I mean it when I say it is an honor to have you here now. What can we do for you? Should I fetch the Guildmaster?"

"No," said Men Darnak. "That won't be necessary yet. Just tell me. I have heard that one of my men has been confined here. Tell me it's not true."

The man looked suddenly uncomfortable, shifting where he stood, his gaze slipping away. "The Atavist? Surely not, Princ.i.p.al. How could a simple mad Atavist be one of your men? That is the only -- "

"Yes, the Atavist. What of him? Where is he?"

The man stammered his response. "Princ.i.p.al, we had no idea. If we had known... He's being held over this way." He waved in the direction of the outbuildings.

"Take us there now."

"Aleks, do you think that's a good idea?" said the man from the gate.

"Do you know who this is?" said Aleks. "This is your Princ.i.p.al."

"But -- "

"But nothing, Malik. We will show them the way. Now!"

Malik ducked his head and beckoned them to follow as he turned toward the outbuildings. Aleks gestured for Men Darnak to follow and also headed off up the path branching away from the main house. "This way, please, Princ.i.p.al."

They reached a set of garages and barns. The old next to the new, thought Men Darnak. Always the way all over Aldaban. He waited while Aleks fiddled with a lock then slid back a broad door. Beside him, Malik muttered to his older companion.

"Shouldn't we inform the Guildmaster? Do you really know what you're doing?"

"Of course I know," hissed Aleks. "This is Princ.i.p.al Men Darnak. Now don't question. All in good time."