The others had now slid from the back of their animals and stood cl.u.s.tered around him. He turned and motioned the three men to stay. "Witness Kovaar, you will accompany me," he said.

Somehow, this open expression of his status, his authority seemed to have stripped some of the fog away from his thoughts.

"Aleks, is it?" The man nodded. "Who was it that ordered my man locked up?"

"It was Guildmaster Ky Menin."

"Ky Menin? What was he doing here?"

"I do not know, Princ.i.p.al."

"Hmm, perhaps he arrived with Roge. You," he said to the one called Malik. "Go and get Ky Menin and my son. Have them come here while I talk to Tchardo. Then they can explain themselves. Go!"

Malik scurried off to do his bidding.

Inside the garage sat two groundcars buried under broad sheets. There was a s.p.a.ce for a third, but it lay empty. Around the walls were shelves, covered with servicing equipment. Further back, in the darkness, there was a dividing wall and a doorway off in one corner.

"Get some light in here," he said.

Aleks crossed to a shelf, retrieved a lantern and lit it. Men Darnak nodded, walked briskly between the two dormant groundcars and headed for the back doorway with Kovaar and Aleks in tow. He tried the door, but it was locked. He motioned Aleks to attend to it. Aleks fiddled with the door, and it swung open. He held the lantern above his head, casting a dim yellow light through the doorway and into the back room. Hunched on a pallet in the far corner sat a miserable bedraggled figure, blinking at the sudden brightness.

"Tchardo, what are you doing here?" said Men Darnak.

"I'm afraid I had little choice in the matter, Princ.i.p.al," said the Atavist.

Men Darnak stepped into the room followed by the other two. "What have you done, Atavist?" he said.

"By the Prophet, nothing, Princ.i.p.al. I came here to deliver your message as you requested." He swung his legs from the pallet and sat, pushing his hair back from his eyes.

There had to be more. "And?"

"Nothing, Princ.i.p.al. Your son was not here. Instead, I spoke with Guildmasters Ka Vail and Ky Menin. That man Edvin was here too."

Men Darnak was suddenly furious with the man's temerity. This was unbelievable. "Why are you concocting tales, Tchardo? What do you hope to gain? The Guildmasters would not do this to any of my people. What have you tried to do? Was it something with Roge? I know that he's quick to anger. Tell me!"

Tchardo stood. His robes were streaked with dried mud, and there was a dark smudge on one cheek, which could have been more mud, but it could conceivably have been a bruise.

"I'm telling you the truth, Princ.i.p.al. As the Prophet is my witness."

"No. Inconceivable."

Further discussion was interrupted by the reappearance of Malik who cleared his throat before speaking. His discomfort was evident as he delivered his message.

"Guildmaster Ky Menin is otherwise occupied. He cannot be disturbed right now. Princ.i.p.al Men Darnak has left."

Men Darnak turned on the man. "What! Did I hear you correctly?" The man swallowed. "Go back to the house. Get Ka Vail. I will not stand for this any longer. Do it now!"

He stepped out of the room and crossed to one of the covered groundcars, placing his hand flat upon its roof. He had to think. None of this was real. It couldn't be. Kovaar was suddenly behind him.

"Princ.i.p.al, I think that you should -- "

"Go away, Priest," he hissed. "I need to think." He sensed Kovaar hovering behind him for a moment or two longer, and then the priest withdrew. He ran his hands over the top of the covered groundcar. His life was slipping away from him, covered by a blanket of things that no longer made sense. He grabbed the sheet with both hands and tore it from the roof of the groundcar. It took him three separate attempts before it was fully free. He dropped the ends at his feet and ran his palms over the smooth, hard, vehicle's roof. Everything, everything stuck between what was meant to be and what it was. He had to see Roge, try and work out what was really happening. Roge wouldn't treat him in the same way Karin had -- curse her. And now the Guilds themselves were conspiring against him. He thought he had been doing the right thing, stepping back, letting the children come into their own. They had lived in his shadow for too long already. It couldn't be his fault that Karin had turned away from him. That didn't make sense either, unless there had been things about her that he hadn't seen. Perhaps his attention had been diverted because of his preoccupation with the Princ.i.p.ate and the Guilds. Perhaps he had not paid them enough attention after all. But it was a father's duty to -- "Princ.i.p.al Men Darnak." He looked up. There stood Aron Ka Vail, and beside him, the tall thin figure of Karryl Ky Menin. Ky Menin was watching him with a wryly-amused expression. Ka Vail, on the other hand, was looking distinctly uneasy.

Men Darnak straightened, smoothed the front of his clothes and waited for them to approach.

"What are you doing here, Princ.i.p.al?" said Ka Vail.

"I came looking for my son, and I find this. What is the meaning of this, Aron?"

"I'm not sure what you mean, Princ.i.p.al."

"I mean I arrive here, I'm told Roge is not here, and I find my man locked up and mistreated. Who's responsible?"

Ky Menin's wryly amused expression remained. "I ordered him put away, Leannis. Some mad Atavist comes around with no warning, starts making claims, pretending to be a messenger from the Princ.i.p.al, threatening violence, what would you do?"

"You have no right!"

Ky Menin slowly shook his head and smiled. "I have every right, Leannis. You forget. You gave up your own rights when you stood down as Princ.i.p.al. Any rights you have are by virtue of your children now. Mine, however, are my own."

Deep within, Men Darnak understood the truth of what Ky Menin was saying, but for him to take it and use it like that was simply too much.

"Perhaps we should come up to the house," said Ka Vail.

"No, Aron, we will resolve this here," he said. He turned on Ky Menin. "What do you think I'm supposed to do? My daughter sends me from her estates with my men and turns me out into the storm. What sort of behavior is that? Haven't I given her everything?"

Ky Menin leaned in close. "Perhaps you have no idea what you have given her, Leannis. It's simple, and just for your education, I'll tell you what you've given her -- a fat useless husband and two brothers who have barely an idea what they're doing. Roge Men Darnak, Princ.i.p.al. Ha!"

"But tradition dictates..."

"Nothing," said Ky Menin pointedly. "It dictates nothing. We are here because of our own efforts, no other. All your holy tradition does is keep us in ignorance. It's because of the First Families that we have to go through this stupid nightmare every Return, every Season and all you've done is perpetuate it."

Men Darnak turned his back. "No, I won't listen to this."

Ky Menin stepped up close behind him and spoke quietly into his right ear. "You should listen to this, Leannis. For years, for seasons, we've had to listen to your blessed tradition, to your hollow mouthings about Order. Well, I'll tell you what your Order gives you. Stagnation, like everything else in this place. You used to have respect. You used to have good sense. You lost it along with your wife, and finally it has led to this. Now you've lost your children as well as your respect."

"No!" He turned to face the Guildmaster. "I cannot listen to this. I am going to find Roge. He won't turn me away. He'll listen to me."

"Roge has gone," said Ka Vail, looking troubled.

"I don't believe you," said Men Darnak. "He's here."

"Princ.i.p.al," said Witness Kovaar from the background. "Why don't you -- ?"

"Shut your noise, Priest," he said. Kovaar was becoming like an annoying drone in the back of his head. "No. I'm going to find Roge." He pushed past Ky Menin. Ka Vail reached out to stop him, but he shrugged off the hand and pushed past. He left them standing there in the garage. He would find Roge. If he found Roge, he could make this right. Karryl Ky Menin had gone too far. He was Princ.i.p.al, dammit. The man had no right to say those things.

A voice was crying out behind him. It sounded like Kovaar. No, d.a.m.n Kovaar. d.a.m.n them all. Ky Menin might have been right about Karin, but he had absolutely no right to say it.

Back in the garage, Sandon leaned heavily against the doorframe of the small rear room. Two days stuck in darkness with limited food had done nothing to improve his fatigue. It looked like things were worse than he thought. Men Darnak's behavior was like nothing he expected from the old man. Gone was the reasoned rational discussion; gone was the command and authority. Ky Menin had stood over him and made him quiver. It was almost as if Men Darnak had shrunk under Ky Menin's verbal a.s.sault. The refusal to listen was not so unusual, but the flight to find Roge, it was irrational. What had happened to the man to change him so much?

He turned to Witness Kovaar. "Where are the rest of the men," he asked in a low voice.

"What rest?" said Kovaar, still staring out the garage door. "The three we came with, and that's it."

Sandon frowned. That wasn't right either. Leannis Men Darnak always traveled with a full entourage. The two Guildmasters after a brief discussion wandered out, seeming to have forgotten that Kovaar and he were even there. Sandon pushed himself upright.

"We should see where the Princ.i.p.al has gone," he said.

Kovaar seemed to remember where he was. He turned to look at Sandon, frowned, gave him a long look and then said, "Yes, of course, you are right."

"So what happened to the rest of the men?"

"The Prophet dictates the place of things and the rights of Order. When the storms approach, those who fear the Prophet's wrath run and hide."

It was Sandon's turn to frown. The man was talking nonsense. "What are you talking about, Witness Kovaar? What happened to the men?"

"The Prophet guides all men to be in their rightful place."

Sandon gave another weary sigh and headed for the open door. A moment more, and Kovaar caught him up with a brisk step. As he pa.s.sed the groundcars, Sandon paused. There was s.p.a.ce for three. Only two were there. He could see the marks of where the other had been parked. A dust sheet lay bundled on one of the side benches.

"What is it, Tchardo?" asked Kovaar.

"I don't know," he answered. "Something strange. These machines."

"Think only on what you should," said Kovaar. "Leave your hate of technology behind for a moment or two. We need to find the Princ.i.p.al."

Together they headed toward the house, Sandon feeling stiff and sore from sitting for too long in the same position locked in the cramped back room. Of Men Darnak and the two Guildmasters, there was no sign. The three men who had come with him now stood near the gate, holding their padders' reins and talking among themselves. Sandon headed in that direction.

"Have any of you seen which way the Princ.i.p.al went?"

"Tchardo! What happened to you?" It was the boy, Fran.

"h.e.l.lo, Fran. It's good to see you again. It's a long story and we haven't the time at the moment. I'll tell you later. We need to find the Princ.i.p.al."

"He headed up to the house. The Guildmasters followed not much after."

"All right, Fran. You wait here. I'll go and find the Princ.i.p.al."

"No," said Kovaar. "You had best wait here, Tchardo. I will go."

Sandon hated to admit it, but Kovaar was right. He was hardly likely to get easy access to the house now. The priest stalked off and Sandon was left watching him. He pulled his robes tight about himself against the chill. At least it wasn't raining. He looked about, but the clouds were light fists, scudding across the sky, trailing plumes behind them. If he wore these robes long enough, eventually he might even get used to the seasonal cold. He looked at Fran and gave him a brief smile. He was a good-hearted young man. In Sandon's former life, he could have used someone like him. He a.n.a.lyzed that thought. Strange, he was already thinking of it as his former life, as if it had gone forever.

While they waited, he recounted the tale of his confrontation with Edvin and the two Guildmasters leading to his confinement.

"So, did you hit him?" said Fran eagerly. "I would have."

"Look who you're talking to, Fran," said one of the others with a laugh.

The boy looked confused for a moment, then blushed. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," said Sandon. "The Atavist has no proscription against violent action; we just don't tend to find a need."

"Is that so?" said the other man. "Hmm, well who would have guessed?"

He turned to the one who had spoken. "How much do you really know about the Atavists?" he asked.

The man's answer was cut short by the reappearance of Princ.i.p.al Men Darnak striding back toward them from the house, his long cloak flapping about him, his hair streaming back, his hands waving. Witness Kovaar was racing behind him trying to keep up.

"Princ.i.p.al, wait!" called Kovaar.

"Where's my padder?" called Men Darnak. "Quick, quick, bring it here, man."

Within an instant, the Princ.i.p.al was on his animal, digging his heels into its flanks and was charging off up the hill.

"Princ.i.p.al," called Kovaar, attempting to mount his own beast. "Wait!" Kovaar fumbled his footing, and on the third attempt, finally found his seat. In a second or two, he too was charging up the hill. Looking fl.u.s.tered, the three men mounted and headed off after them. Sandon was left standing where he was, watching them disappear rapidly up the roadway.

"Dammit," he spat. His own padder was probably still in the stables somewhere. At least he hoped it was. He dashed back toward the barn, pain shooting though his joints with every hurried step.

Twenty-Two.

"No, by the Prophet, they cannot all desert me. I will not allow it." Men Darnak dug his heels once more into the padder's flanks, ignoring the fact that he was already at full gallop. He was Princ.i.p.al. He had been Princ.i.p.al since...

The ground whipped past him, large fleshy plants and bare patches of muddy ground. A whitish sc.u.m marked the bare patches in places, and he paused in his considerations, just for a moment, to wonder what it might be. Funny that he'd never noticed it before. The wind rushing past him was cold, tinged with ice. He hunched against it and urged his mount on faster, faster. The padder crested a small hill, then started to slow to a canter. He was on the down slope now. A small valley ran between the two hills, obscuring his vision of any of the surrounds. Rising, blasted ground hemmed him in on all sides. Gently he slowed the animal to a walk, and looked around, but there was nothing, nothing but the same, unchanging landscape. The padder was breathing heavily beneath him. He could feel its ribs moving in and out between his legs and with noticing it, he realized that he too was panting. Up above, the clouds were thickening, filling with anger and the hate this world had for its people. But they weren't its people, were they? Why wouldn't it try and reject them? He pulled back on the reins and drew the animal to a complete halt. Yes, he could understand the world trying to reject him, but his own people, his own family. What was it that he had done?

He growled at the uncertainty as it flitted around him with the strengthening breeze. Karin, of all people. Karin was meant to support him, to love him, to stand by him as he moved into the infirmity of advancing years. Roge had too much to occupy him now, but Karin...

And then there was Tarlain. He had always been a good boy. A little nave, a little idealistic, but that came with youth. You grew out of that, in time. He had thought that sending him away was an act of responsibility, that making him truly work for his position would have hardened him, given him the strength he would eventually need to play in the machinations of the Guilds. Perhaps he had been too harsh. And now there was nothing for it. Tarlain was gone, he knew not where, Karin had thrown him to Aldaban's unforgiving landscape, and Roge was somewhere. Roge was somewhere. Roge was where? He had to talk to his eldest son and find out what was happening. Where was Yl Aris when he needed him? Sandon would have helped. But he had...he had...what had he done?

"Princ.i.p.al!" The shout came from over one of the slight hills behind him, far away, distorted by the wind, but it was definitely someone calling for him. He knew the voice. It was ... it was ... Priest. Kovaar. Witness Kovaar was looking for him.

"Princ.i.p.al!" the shout came again.

He sat where he was, looking down at the patchy ground, feeling the padder shift beneath him. Let them find him. Or perhaps it wasn't a 'them' after all. He shook his head. Kovaar. What did he want?

"Princ.i.p.al Men Darnak!"

He looked back over his shoulder. There, silhouetted on the hilltop was the Priest's figure astride his padder. Behind him, breaking through the clouds, the Twins' merged disks, struggling to force their way through the heavy blackness that roiled about them. Shafts of ruddy light broke through, disappeared, and broke through again, framing the solitary figure atop the hill with a continuously changing pattern of red and orange light. The Priest's robes stirred in the wind, adding to the unreality of the picture, shifting light, shifting shadow, the world turning around him.