Binary Part 22

"You!" shouted Men Darnak into Sandon's face, above the noise of the wind, through the sluicing rain. "You will be cast off too! The Prophet knows your sins, like he knows the sins of all of us." He pushed his face forward, looming white in the darkness, strings of soaking ice-colored hair hanging around his cheeks. "You will be judged just as I have been judged. The Prophet will strike you down!"

Sandon tried to ignore him. They had to get back to the lodge before the ground lost solidity beneath them. He didn't believe they'd seen the last of it yet.

"Kovaar," he yelled. "Help me get him back."

The Priest nodded.

"But first we have to try and cover him." Sandon, still trying to maintain a grip on Men Darnak's shoulder, struggled out of the raincoat, releasing his grip once just to change hands. The Priest helped him pull the coat over Men Darnak's head. This presented them with a new problem, for the material was slippery with the rain, and it made keeping a grip on the Princ.i.p.al's shoulders all the more difficult. Holding as tightly as he could, Sandon tried to steer Men Darnak in the direction of the lodge. Kovaar appeared to understand his intention and moved to help.

"I am cold," said the Princ.i.p.al. "Aren't you cold, Priest?" Still his head swung slowly from side to side. "We can't have you getting cold, now can we?" The old man's feet shuffled through the mud. He laughed, and then his face became serious again. "The Prophet knows you have enough to suffer with. We need to get you warm. Where are we going? What are you doing out here? This is no sort of night to be out."

Sandon frowned. The old man had no concern for himself at all apparently. All he seemed worried about was the priest's well being. There were echoes there of the man who had once been, the patriarch of their entire world. Men Darnak cared about others, not himself. Sandon grimaced. He couldn't afford to think about that now. The sooner they got the old man out of the rain and wind the better. Then, at least, Sandon might be able to talk to him and get some sense. He tried to pierce the gloom to make sure they were heading in the right direction, yet still maintaining his grip on the old man's arm. Any explanation could wait, at least until they were inside the lodge.

Struggling against the wind and rain, wary that at any moment, the ground might start to shift beneath them, they finally made it back to the lodge, sodden and dripping mud as they stepped through the doorway.

"What is this, Kovaar?" hissed Sandon. "How could you let this happen?"

The priest waved his hand, forestalling discussion as they maneuvered Men Darnak to a chair and stripped off the raincoat. The old man sat huddled, naked and shivering, his pale flesh with a slightly blue-white tinge to it. Deep scratches marked his skin in places where the inhospitable ground had done its work. Fran leapt up from his place to join them, a horrified look on his face.

"Witness Kovaar, what can I do?" said the boy.

"You attend to the fire," said Sandon. "Here, Kovaar, help me shift him closer."

They struggled and managed to sc.r.a.pe the chair over to the fire. Sandon motioned to one of the other men. "Get some towels. Now, man! What are you waiting for?"

The man scurried across the room to do as he was bid. And yet, Witness Kovaar had still not said anything since they'd emerged from the storm.

As the men worked on getting Men Darnak dry and warm -- someone had found some clean robes -- Sandon turned to the priest with narrowed eye and set jaw.

"What's happening, Kovaar?"

The priest looked at him impa.s.sively. "The world turns as the Prophet wills."

"Do you not see the state he's in?" hissed Sandon.

"There is a cycle within the world and outside of it. The Prophet's will dictates our place in that cycle. The Church of the Prophet has waited a long time." The priest's voice was low and quiet.

"You're not making sense." Sandon glanced at the Princ.i.p.al. A touch of color was coming back to the old man's features. Sandon grunted his satisfaction. He turned back to the priest. He could not have this conversation here. He gripped Kovaar by the arm and drew him to one side, out of earshot of the others.

"I don't know what game you're playing, Kovaar, but the Princ.i.p.al's condition is not anything I would expect from a man like him. I warn you, if I think you have any part in the way he is, you'll pay for it."

"As the Prophet wills," he said impa.s.sively, apparently unmoved by Sandon's threat.

Sandon growled in frustration. "d.a.m.n you. You will talk to me. You can't hide behind your blessed Church any more."

"We all have our place. As the seasons change, so does the order of things. The season has changed." Kovaar shrugged, turned and simply walked away to the other side of the room.

Sandon ground his teeth and closed his eyes, struggling hard to resist the urge to grab the man and shake him. He couldn't afford a confrontation now. The priest would wait. His priority was Men Darnak and making certain he was all right. He crossed back to the fire and crouched in front of Men Darnak's chair.

"Princ.i.p.al?"

The old man tore his gaze away from the fire, where he seemed lost in thought. "Ahh, my children around me." He reached out a hand on either side, taking Sandon's hand in one, and Fran's in the other on the opposite side. "But you're not my children. I know you. Where are my children now?" he asked, looking blankly, pleadingly, into Sandon's face.

"Princ.i.p.al, you know. We have lost Roge. Tarlain has gone. Karin is who knows where. Probably at her estates with Yosset."

"Lost." He nodded slowly. "Yes, lost. Everything. They are gone, all of them." He leaned forward. "And you. You have left me too."

Sandon frowned. What he was saying didn't seem to be getting through to the old man. He shifted position. His robe was still dripping water on to the floor beneath him, but that didn't matter now. The fire's warmth would soon have him dry. He looked across at Fran, clearly uncomfortable with his hand gripped firmly by the man he knew as his Princ.i.p.al. Sandon gave him a slight shake of his head, but the young man just returned the gesture with a confused look. Trying not to let the gesture be seen, he motioned Fran to rest still.

"Princ.i.p.al, you need to listen to me. We need to get you somewhere safe. Your estates. We will have to stay here tonight, because of the storm, but we will have to move as soon as we are able."

Men Darnak frowned. "I have no place. Those that have everything become those that have nothing. Everything gone. Roge. Tarlain. Everything. Karin is not my daughter. How can she be, eh? What did I do? No, I will stay here. There is nothing for me anywhere else."

Sandon tried to keep his voice calm. "Princ.i.p.al, this is no place for you."

"There is no place for me," he spat in response. "The Prophet has shown me. He would cast me from the world. I have failed. I don't care. I don't care." He withdrew his hands, closed his eyes and shook his head. "No. There is nothing left to hear."

Sandon stood and looked down at a frail, confused old man. Kovaar sat on a couch at the other side of the room, watching Sandon. Fran still crouched beside the old man's chair. Sandon sighed, a deep emptiness welling up within him. How could this be the man to whom he had devoted his life? He had to try and make this right. He ran his hand across his forehead, through his hair and then rubbed the back of his neck. There had to be something he could do, something to alleviate the Princ.i.p.al's condition. The hollow within him was a weakness he couldn't afford. The old man needed him, needed him to be strong.

He ran the possibilities through his head, and the only answer he could come up with was Tarlain. With Roge gone, Karin being Karin, and all other support having faded away like the light of the Major Twin, there was no other choice. Briefly, he toyed with the idea of the Atavist community, but that was no real answer. No, it had to be Tarlain. Tarlain, young, impetuous, and hiding out somewhere near the mines. It wasn't much of a choice. He glanced at Fran. The boy would leave in the morning and try and find him, depending on whether the storm had broken by then. That, at least, was a start. Perhaps with Sandon's help, the Men Darnak boy might be able to do something to help his father. And meanwhile, the storm still howled and grumbled around them. He glanced across at Kovaar, and the priest was still watching him. He looked away again. Just for a moment, he wondered, was it Kovaar or the Church that had the agenda?

An insistent pounding on the door cut Sandon's thoughts short. Without waiting for an answer, the door was flung wide with a sudden blast of moisture and cold air. In the doorway stood a figure, covered in wet weather gear and holding a lantern. The man stepped inside, leaving the door open behind him, oblivious to the weather that followed him into the small s.p.a.ce.

"Where is the Princ.i.p.al? I come from Guildmaster Ka Vail."

Fran got to his feet. "Bilard! What are you doing here?"

The man lowered his lantern, taking in the scene in front of him. "The Guildmaster sent me and a couple of others out to look. He was worried about Princ.i.p.al Men Darnak."

Here perhaps was Sandon's answer. "Come in, man. Close the door behind you.

Bilard gestured behind him. "But what about the others?"

"They'll be fine for a minute or two. Just come in and close the door."

Twenty-Seven.

Karryl Ky Menin sat drumming his fingers on his desk. His usually placid face was troubled. He reached out to turn on the screen and scan the grounds, but hesitated, his hand halfway across the desk. Slowly, he drew it back and neatly folded both of his hands back in his lap. A detailed search of the grounds was simple displacement activity. He hadn't been blessed with intellect for nothing. He would get to the root of what was sitting like a th.o.r.n.y burr in the back of his mind without trying to pretend to himself it wasn't there.

One by one, he turned the players over in his head. Karin Men Darnak. Yes, she was worthy, but he didn't think the problem lay there -- at least not yet. And her husband, Yosset Clier, could be discounted altogether? Tarlain Men Darnak? No. The boy was young, idealistic, and besides, he was nowhere to be found. It might be worthy to find out exactly what he was up to, but whatever it was, it could easily be contained. There was no point being unprepared though. It was lack of preparation that always turned around to bite you. He would set some of his people to find out what the youngest Men Darnak was doing. The youngest Ka Vail had warned him about the father's intent to help Leannis, but Ky Menin had to discount it. It was clear that the boy was simply trying to position himself to take over his father's role.

He ran one palm back and forth across the surface of his desk. Back and forth, back and forth. He watched the motion, still thinking. That was it! Vacillation, uncertainty, he hated uncertainty. It was Aron Ka Vail. He'd sensed the man's unease, his lack of commitment last time they'd been together. He drew his hand back toward his lap, but now it was closed. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned forward and switched on his screen. The boy had been right after all.

"Faran. Yes. I want word about what's going on at Ka Vail's estates. I don't care. Just find out. Do it now. Yes. I'll be here." He withdrew his hand from the screen. The frown was gone. A slight smile played at the corner of his lips. Preparation, antic.i.p.ation -- these were the things that made existence run smoothly.

He leaned forward again and pulled open a drawer. There, lying neatly in a long, narrow box, sat another of the results of his careful preparation. For many long months, his teams had been working on the thing that lay there, perfecting, refining. He ran his fingers over the sleek surface, restraining himself from actually picking it up. The time would come, but it wasn't yet. With one last lingering look, he slid the drawer shut again. Karin was due soon and it would do no good to announce his full intentions quite yet. He preferred to keep a couple of things in reserve. Karin's and his own plans may coincide for the moment, but it was always much better to keep a certain something in reserve.

Karin stood in the doorway of Ky Menin's lounge area, disbelief written across her face.

"He did what?" she said. "Then Jarid was right."

"I know," said Ky Menin with a sigh. "I sensed there was something wrong with the way he was behaving last time we met. I have some of my men bringing him here now. We can deal with him then."

Karin crossed the room, her jaw set, and sat. "After all we've done, we can't have that old fool getting in the way. We've had enough of old fools. There's enough unease in the rest of the Guilds without Ka Vail upsetting the balance."

Ky Menin nodded and crossed to sit beside her. He placed a hand on her leg and leaned in as he spoke. "Look, from the reports I've had of your father's behavior, I cannot believe he's any sort of real threat. Look at where we are, Karin. Just think about it. Storm Season, Kallathik unease, and now your father behaving as if he's lost his senses completely. We're in an ideal position."

She looked unconvinced. Slowly, she shook her head. "No. You know the traditions as well as I do. Prophet or no, I still have to deal with the fact that I'm a woman. With Tarlain missing and Roge gone, they could just as easily turn back to the old man."

Ky Menin sighed again and sat back. "You're right, but then you're not right. Traditions change. Everything changes. It doesn't matter that you're a woman any more, Karin. Things have to change. We've been bound in the traditions pa.s.sed down from the First Families for far too long. Anybody with any sense knows where the real power in the Men Darnak household lies. You can't believe otherwise."

A subtle chime from Ky Menin's household systems announced an arrival. Karin looked expectantly toward the door, and Ky Menin stood, smoothing down his tunic. The room's spa.r.s.e white furnishings echoed the simplicity of his dress. Clean, white, it would do. He nodded to himself. Any further conversation could wait. He turned back to Karin, still sitting expectantly on the couch.

"This will be Ka Vail. You wait here. I won't be a moment." He glanced about the room one more time. "This, I think, will be the ideal setting." He said the to rea.s.sure her, just as much as to echo his thoughts. He gave her a quick nod before going to meet his guests.

Moments later, he returned with a fl.u.s.tered looking Aron Ka Vail, escorted by two of Ky Menin's own Guildsmen. Ky Menin nodded to his men, and they quickly withdrew, leaving the three of them, Ky Menin, Karin Men Darnak, and Aron Ka Vail, alone in the clean, functional living s.p.a.ce.

"What is it, Karryl?" said Ka Vail. "What urgent matter forces you to have me escorted here? What of my own business? Don't you think I have things to attend to?"

"This is all our business, Aron," said Ky Menin slowly. "I suggest you have a seat."

Aron Ka Vail hesitated, frowning. "No. I suggest you tell me why you've had me dragged here." He glanced across at Karin. "And why the good lady is here too."

Karryl's voice showed traces of his impatience. "Sit, Guildmaster Ka Vail."

Ka Vail's frown deepened, but he did as he was bidden. "All right. What is all this?"

Ky Menin waited until he too had taken a seat, and he steepled his fingers in front of him. "It has come to my attention that you've set certain things in motion, Aron, that you've done things that are counterproductive at best in our current circ.u.mstance."

Ka Vail looked across at him with open hostility. "What are you talking about, Karryl? No more word games. I'm tired of them now. I think we've had enough."

Ky Menin leaned forward, speaking quietly. "You know exactly what I mean. After all we've been through up until now. Leannis Men Darnak. That's what I'm talking about."

"What?"

"You're helping him and his men. Providing him support."

"And so what? I fail to see your point."

Karryl took a long low breath that was just short of a sigh, and he sat back in his chair. "I also know that you've had a constant flow of information about what's been happening at the mines. Apparently -- well, this is how I hear it -- the Kallathik are agitating and more. Is that so?"

"Yes, there has been some trouble, but what of it? We have trouble every Storm Season. Again I fail to see your point."

Karryl shook his head slowly. "You should know better than that. How can you lend your resources to helping Men Darnak...especially now? Where is the trust, Aron?"

The older Guildmaster narrowed his eyes and stood slowly. "You tell me where the trust is? I cannot believe you are doing this, Karryl. You've had me escorted from my own estates for no other purpose than to level a series of pointless accusations -- and in front of her." He waved his arm dismissively in Karin's direction. "Leannis Men Darnak deserves our respect. More than that shown by his sniveling offspring. You would do well to show some respect too, Karryl Ky Menin, before you say something you might regret."

Ky Menin smiled. There was nothing soft about the expression. "I suggest you take your seat, Aron."

"I will not!" said the old man. "I've heard enough. I will lend my support to whomever I want, whenever I want. And you have no place telling me otherwise. Nor have you any place telling me how to run the business of my Guild. My Guild, Ky Menin."

"Sit down, Aron."

"No, by the Prophet, I will not!"

Karin suddenly stood. "Who do you think you are, old man?" she said. "Sit down and do as you're told."

Ka Vail blanched and swung to face her. "And you would do well to learn your place, woman." He advanced on her. "Respect. I've seen your capacity for respect. Your own father..." He shook his head. "It was a poor aspect when fate brought you into this world. I've seen you, girl. I've watched. I've seen what you've done. What about your father, eh? What about that fine old man who has done so much for you, who has done so much for all of us? By the Prophet, woman. He's your father." The old man was shaking visibly.

"He's an old fool, and so are you, Ka Vail," she said.

Ka Vail leaned in close to her. He spoke through clenched teeth. "And you are a mistake in the world. You are a corrupt, diseased thing out of your proper place. There is nothing of either your father or mother in you. Thank the Prophet she is no longer with us. She is better off dead than to see this."

Her hand flashed out and connected with his cheek. The noise of skin on skin echoed from the walls. She turned, strode away from him and sat, keeping her gaze turned away. Ka Vail stood where he was, trembling with his anger, looking at neither of them, a red mark blossoming on his cheek.

"What are you doing with Men Darnak?" asked Ky Menin from where he sat.

Ka Vail spun to face him. "I'll tell you nothing more." He swallowed before speaking again, clearly having difficulty speaking. "And now I'll leave you both."

"You'll do no such thing," said Ky Menin, calmly. "You will sit and you will tell us precisely what we need to know."

Ka Vail gave a short soundless laugh and headed for the door, shaking his head. He had not taken four steps before two of Ky Menin's men were standing in the doorway, blocking his path. The old man stopped and turned to face Ky Menin.

"What is this, Karryl?"

"You will do exactly as I ask," said Ky Menin.

"I will do nothing of the sort." He tried pushing past the two blocking his way, but they stood firm. Ky Menin gestured to them, and they led the old man back to the chair and sat him forcibly back down. Ka Vail brushed at his sleeves, looking first at Ky Menin, then up at the two men who now stood on either side of him, and finally over at Karin, who was now looking over at him with a slight smirk on her face.

"And so we have to deal with another traitor," she said quietly.

"You should know all about treachery," he shot back at her. His face was red, the anger visible in his hands, but the presence of the two men beside his chair was obviously enough to dissuade him from further action.

"Now," said Ky Menin. "Where has Men Darnak gone?"

Ka Vail sat with jaw clamped tight, staring with open hostility across the intervening s.p.a.ce. Ky Menin sighed.