Sandon was starting to become truly concerned. Three hours had pa.s.sed, and still there was no sign of either Kovaar or the Princ.i.p.al. Outside, the storm still raged, lashing rain against the sides of the lodge, and intermittently blasting the landscape with huge crashing sheets of light. Sandon was starting to eye the others nervously. They surely couldn't be content to just sit here. Everything seemed to be in turmoil: the weather, the Guilds, the Kallathik, even Men Darnak himself, not to say anything of Sandon's own existence. But all that was of lesser importance right now. What mattered was what had happened to Men Darnak. He pulled himself to his feet.

"Shouldn't someone go and try to find them?"

"You can have it, Atavist," said one of the men. "I'm staying right here. If the old man wants to go wandering off into the night, then that's his business. I'm staying by the fire. We've done enough chasing him all over the countryside."

His companion nodded. Meanwhile Fran looked up, a slightly guilty expression on his face, but clearly about to leap to his feet. Sandon waved him down. "I'll go," he said.

"Do what you want," said the first man, with a shrug and not without a touch of resentment.

Sandon moved to the door, found his coat and pulled it on. He couldn't remember seeing whether Kovaar had taken a lantern with him or not. He looked around, located a spare one, lit it and headed back to the door.

"Tchardo..."

"No, you stay, Fran. I'll be fine."

Outside the door, the wind threatened to throw him up against the wall. He pulled his coat around, trying to shield the lantern, pulled his head down against the wind and rain, and headed out. He had no idea where they might have gone. He only hoped they might see the lantern, if he didn't see them first, though seeing anything in this tempest would be like a miracle. The wind howled past his ears, and despite the coat, within moments he was soaked through, streams of water running down his neck and beneath his clothes. Witness Kovaar and Men Darnak had been out in this for hours. What state must they be in by now? Head down, buffeted from every direction, he stumbled forward.

Twenty-Five.

Jarid scanned the grounds as he rode in, taking note of the characteristic fingerprints of a man devoted to precision: Neatly sculpted hedges, straight lines everywhere. Ky Menin had stamped his presence all over the grounds. The stables were placed well behind the house, hidden partially by the building, but still visible, not enough to be intrusive.

The household staff would not have been expecting anyone, but a neatly liveried groomsman met him at the stables all the same. Just as quickly as he had appeared, the man relieved him of his animal. That's what you got being head of the Guild of Technologists -- a box of tricks to play with. Jarid should have gone into Technology. It would have suited him, suited the way his head worked. It just offered so many playthings to explore. Primary Production wasn't too bad. It had its own positives, one of which was the fact that Technology was reliant upon Primary Production to source everything it needed. That was going to put Jarid in a unique position once everything was dealt with, but still sometimes he wondered if he might not have made a better choice. He headed out from the stables, crunched up the pebbled drive and headed for the main door. He was a mere step away when the door swung open and lights came on around the entrance. Jarid frowned, a little surprised despite himself. How could there still be lights?

Guildmaster Ky Menin stood in the doorway, a superior half-smile on his face.

"I see you like my little welcome, Jarid."

"Welcome? But how could you...?"

Ky Menin waved his hand. "No matter. Just one of the advantages of being in the Guild. Call it a benefit of the trade." The smile turned into a self-satisfied smirk.

Jarid nodded slowly. "So," he said. "The trappings of power, eh?"

"Oh, more so than you could imagine, Jarid Ka Vail. So appropriate." His face grew serious. "But enough play. You must be here for a reason."

Jarid looked around, then back at the Guildmaster. "Yes, I am, but it would probably be better if we discussed things inside."

Ky Menin stepped back, held an arm wide and waited for Jarid to pa.s.s before closing the door.

Inside, the house was in much the same style, neatly defined, almost utilitarian, not a thing out of place. Jarid hated to think what it would be like after a quake. He could just imagine the people running from place to place, desperately trying to get things back in order, Ky Menin looking on with a chill gray gaze. Jarid didn't have time to take in much; Ky Menin led him immediately down the entrance hall and into a large study. A broad screen dominated the room and despite everything, the lateness of the Season, it appeared to be still active. Ky Menin noticed the direction of his gaze, and the slight smirk reappeared. So, this was to be the game the Guildmaster was going to play. Jarid hid his own smile. Already he was starting to tell how the man worked.

"But how?" he said dutifully, the appropriate level of awe in his voice.

"That's unimportant, Jarid. We in Technologists have our needs. We haven't the numbers to support the entire population. You must understand." He waved his hand around the room. "Much of this is foraged, or kept or copied from what survived the original landings. So much was lost then, but there is still the odd thing we manage to maintain. But, as you can imagine..." He shrugged. "There is only so much we can do."

Jarid nodded, making sure he looked suitably impressed. It seemed to work, because Ky Menin turned away.

"So, tell me. What is it that brings you here? The news about Roge Men Darnak, I suppose. I'm afraid you've had a wasted journey. I've already been informed."

"No, Guildmaster Ky Menin. Agreed, it was simply terrible news about the Princ.i.p.al, but I'm afraid I've come on other business." Jarid kept his wondering thought to himself. Ky Menin had already been informed. That didn't make sense either, unless the Guildmaster was trying to intimidate him with more secret knowledge -- stuff that may or may not exist.

Ky Menin turned to face him slowly. "What 'other business' are you talking about? As far as I'm aware, we have no other business. All our business was concluded at your father's estates."

"It's my father I've come to talk about."

Ky Menin narrowed his eyes. He fixed Jarid with a lingering look, then turned and sat, folding his hands across his lap. "So tell me."

"I'm afraid my father is going to be difficult."

"Go on..."

"He's talking about a.s.sisting the old Princ.i.p.al however he can. He's made it quite clear he's not happy about the events of the last few days. Last thing he mentioned, was giving aid to Leannis Men Darnak. I think he means to try and bring him back to influence the other Guild members."

"You'd better sit." Ky Menin got a faraway look in his eyes. "Does he, by the Twins?" he said. "Yes, indeed, that would make sense. Ka Vail has always understood how the Guilds fall."

Jarid located a chair across from the Guildmaster and sat as instructed. He waited patiently. Finally, the man's attention came back to the room, and again he fixed Jarid with that cold, gray gaze.

"We've come too far for that already," he said. "I'm afraid we can't risk it, even only as a possibility. There is no room for error here. I thank you for coming to me with this, Jarid, but I'm not entirely sure why you would do so."

Jarid had been expecting the question. "I wish that I hadn't been the one to discover my father's intent, Guildmaster. It saddens me that he should let his superst.i.tion and his reliance on the Church's teachings influence his thoughts, but that's what's happened. The power the Church and tradition both have over him have been more apparent over the last few months. We in the Guilds need more vision, more forward thinking. This is a time of change. More than that, it's a time of opportunity. I'm here for just that reason." He watched carefully as the words sank in.

"You're right, Jarid Ka Vail. This is a time of change. That change could go either way, and we need to be aware of the implications of everyone's actions within the Guilds. I'll be honest; it saddens me to hear that your father is not as forward thinking as some of the rest of us. That is going to present us with more than one problem, unless we can do something about it. I fear the conclusion is unavoidable." Again, his focus changed. His hooded gray eyes stared off into the middle distance again as he processed.

Jarid watched and he a.s.sessed. This man announced far too readily when he was thinking, unless this was a performance too, but he didn't think so this time.

"But if that is the case," Ky Menin continued. "We are going to need a solution. From what I've seen so far, you seem to be a capable young man." He leaned forward. "We cannot have Primary Production falling to the likes of Yosset Clier, can we?"

"I don't think that's likely to happen, Guildmaster, but yes, we have to put the right things in place to ensure that doesn't happen."

"Certainly," said Ky Menin, with a brief tilt of his head. "I'm inclined to agree with you. I think it unlikely that Clier himself will be a real problem, however. All the same, we have to be sure of everyone."

"What do you propose?"

"I don't know yet."

"Well, when you have thought about it, let me know Guildmaster. I may be able to a.s.sist,." He looked meaningfully at the various pieces of equipment scattered around the room. Ky Menin narrowed his eyes again, and then sat back, uncrossing and re-crossing his hands, never letting his gaze waver from Jarid's face.

"I know what you're thinking, Guildmaster," said Jarid, holding firm beneath the scrutiny. "It's my father we're talking about. You know this is hard for me, but I have to face the reality of what's needed for the future of the Guilds and the future of this world, of our people. We must move on. It doesn't matter whether it's Yosset Clier or my father; ultimately, the answer remains the same."

The Guildmaster nodded slowly. A slight smirk played across his lips. He reached over to something on the table and then sat back. Jarid waited, wondering what trick he was about to see now.

"What is it Karryl?" A woman's voice from the doorway.

Jarid turned his head. He blinked twice, and gave a slight shake of his head. Jarid felt his mouth fall stupidly open, and then shut just as stupidly, as he tried to regain his self-possession. The person in the doorway was Karin Men Darnak, wife of Yosset Clier himself.

"As I said, I don't think we really have to worry about Yosset Clier," said Ky Menin.

Jarid struggled to regain his composure, and during that time, Karin entered the room and found herself a place to sit. Ky Menin meanwhile performed the formal introductions, which pa.s.sed over Jarid as if none of it were happening. Karin Men Darnak. He restrained himself from shaking his head again with some slight effort. Up close, she was every bit as impressive as she had been from a distance, and he found himself watching her every gesture intently. Once or twice, he glanced at Ky Menin. This was the last thing he would have expected. Karin Men Darnak with Ky Menin? He could barely believe it. But it was more than that; the Guildmaster had simply outplayed him, and he'd managed it so easily.

As Ky Menin recounted their conversation, Jarid watched Karin as un.o.btrusively as he could. She had a lot that was worth watching, Karin Men Darnak. That hair, those refined features, the way she held her head. Finally, Ky Menin turned back to him. There was a flicker of something as he noticed Jarid's gaze, and then he went on.

"Is there anything else you should tell us?"

Jarid frowned in concentration. He had to at least make it look good. "You heard about the trouble with my brother, Markis?"

"Yes. I could barely believe it."

"We could barely believe it ourselves," said Jarid. "But there's more. He appears to have become involved in some sort of dealings with the Kallathik."

"What have they got to do with it?" asked Karin. Her voice was deep and rich. Not how Jarid had imagined it at all.

"I don't know. I think it's some means of upsetting the stability of Primary Production, weaken father's hold. You know how reliant we are upon the Kallathik presence."

She nodded thoughtfully, and then turned to look back at Ky Menin questioningly.

"Yes," said Ky Menin. "I can see that. A clumsy attempt, but it would certainly add to the equation. What do you think, Karin?"

Karin stood. "It's certainly plausible. But the creatures would have to be ripe for it, wouldn't they? Destabilization in Primary Production, and now with Roge gone, everything could so easily slip away from us." She plucked at her lip, thinking. "We can't let that happen, Karryl." There was an insistent tone to her voice.

"And it's not going to," said Ky Menin. "Karin, sit back down, would you? We need to approach this rationally. There are a number of logical choices. Let's explore them."

Karin took a deep breath, then slowly lowered herself back to her chair. "No, you're right. I'm just so used to dealing with Yosset."

Ky Menin looked at Jarid for a long time before speaking again. When he finally did, he kept his gaze fixed, his eyes barely narrowed as he spoke. "If we can rely on Jarid Ka Vail here, then we have the means. You and I both know Yosset has never had the makings of someone to take control. From what I have seen so far, just perhaps, this young man here may be able to take a useful role."

There was a pause, and then Karin answered. As she spoke, Jarid refused to break the Guildmaster's gaze, though her rich voice was drawing him.

"So, if you truly believe that, Karryl," she said. "What do you suggest we do?"

"We should discuss this further," he said to Karin, and then turned back to Jarid. "For now, we can continue as we are. I will trust you to keep me informed if there's anything new."

Jarid rubbed his hands together, and then stood. "Don't underestimate me, Guildmaster," he said, shooting a quick glance at Karin. "I'm not my brother, and I'm not my father."

Ky Menin nodded. "No, I can see that. I have seen that." He too stood and stepped forward to place his hands on Jarid's shoulders. "For now, I think we use this Kallathik thing to our advantage. You, Jarid, will stay here tonight, and in the morning, you will accompany Karin to her estates. There you will tell Yosset Clier what you've told us about the Kallathik and your brother. That will focus Yosset's attention, and with Karin as your witness, it will add extra weight to the argument. If Yosset becomes distracted by anything, Karin is more than capable of steering him on the right path. He would be affected by instability within the Guild too, and none of us can afford that right now."

"And you?" said Karin.

Ky Menin dropped his hands from Jarid's shoulders and moved back to his chair. "I need to deal with Aron Ka Vail. The old fool has obviously lost his true focus. Sadly, I think we are going to have to teach him the error of his ways. How he could possibly consider bringing back the old man, I do not know. The truth is, it's far too dangerous a prospect just now, and he has to be made to see that." He paused.

"It's a pity. I rather like Aron. A real pity."

Twenty-Six.

Sandon felt tired, exhausted, but still the storm battered him. More than once, he had almost dropped the lantern, not that it was doing much to pierce the strobing darkness. No sign. No sign at all of the Princ.i.p.al and Kovaar, though he'd been out here for what seemed like hours. They couldn't have gone too far, he kept telling himself, but with Men Darnak's frame of mind, that wasn't a certainty either. Pretty soon now, he'd have to give up and return to the lodge, as much for his own self-preservation as anything, although he seemed to be spending half his life in the rain these days.

"Princ.i.p.al Men Darnak!" he called, and though he knew it was futile, he called again.

Something made him look over to his right, narrow his eyes and peer through the sheeting curtain. A flash of light and a rumble, and there, a clump of deeper darkness against the dark. He started in that direction. Twice he slipped, and once he almost lost hold of the lantern again. As he neared, he saw he had been right. The dark patch was a pair of figures huddled against the sodden hillside. Another flash illuminated the scene, and Sandon gritted his teeth at what he saw. The gaunt frame of Witness Kovaar was hunched over the old man, vainly attempting to cover him with a robe. Men Darnak pushed away from him, flailing against the sodden fabric and rolling on the muddy ground. As he got nearer still, Sandon understood what the priest was trying to do. Men Darnak had slipped out of his clothing, and lay naked, his emaciated frame completely exposed to the elements. Sandon swallowed back the shock of what he was seeing. It was as if the flesh had slewed from the Princ.i.p.al's bones. The strong wiry frame looked strong no longer. It was all angles and joints, looking nothing more than brittle. How could such deterioration have happened so quickly?

He was about twenty paces away when he felt the first rumble beneath his feet. Witness Kovaar had noticed him, was beckoning him over, shouting something, but the wind whipped the words away. It didn't matter; the man's meaning was clear. Again came the feeling, and then the world lost solidity. It began slowly, shaking, trembling, subtly growing. Sandon's feet went from beneath him, and he lost the lantern. It tumbled back down the hill, and he was left clutching at the scant vegetation, gripping with his hands at something that gave no purchase but sodden liquid earth running through his fingers. He pressed his face flat, hugging at ground that was suddenly trying desperately to buck him off. He had to ride it. There was nowhere else to go. He scrabbled forward, half crawling, half sliding, heading toward the Princ.i.p.al. With the old man in the state he was, Kovaar might need help. Sandon spat mud from his mouth, and scrambled forward again. And then the ground was still.

He struggled to a crouching position, crawled rapidly forward. He was almost on top of them when it came again. With one mighty heave, the ground tossed him up and away. Despite the violent shaking, he struggled forward again. Kovaar was trying to hold Men Darnak down, and it looked like he needed help. The ground was bucking and writhing beneath them, denying them purchase, denying them anything they could clutch on to.

Men Darnak was shouting, oblivious to the huge drops spattering against his face and body. Finally, Sandon was close enough to hear.

"Let me go, Priest! Leave me! The world wants to throw me off now. Let it. My son, my daughter. All gone. They cast me off. And now the world would do it too. Let me be! I have no place here. We should have known! Why didn't we see it?"

"Princ.i.p.al, stay -- " Another shaking pounded the priest's words from his mouth. " -- still! You have to stop moving!"

Sandon slithered desperately forward, fighting against the slope, fighting against the water, fighting against the heaving earth.

"Help me!" cried Kovaar.

Sandon thrust himself along the ground, stretched out one arm and clutched at Men Darnak's shoulder, pinning him on one side. The old man tried to struggle from beneath his grip, but he was effectively pinned on the other side by Witness Kovaar. Still the ground tried to shake them off. Another violent spasm, and they were sent slithering down the slope that Sandon had just fought so hard to cross. Sandon could only think of what might be happening to Men Darnak's naked skin as they slid across spines and rocks beneath the soggy ground surface. He felt behind him, trying to dig his free hand beneath the mud to find something solid to anchor them.

"Kovaar, we have to stop this slide," he shouted across Men Darnak's body.

Kovaar flung out an arm as well, trying to slow their descent. Somewhere below them lay the shards of a broken lantern, and Sandon was expecting at any moment to feel the razor edges sliding through skin. And still the ground bucked and heaved, trying to throw them free.

Men Darnak was laughing, his mouth open wide to the rain. The laughs were punctuated by coughing, but still he laughed.

"Do it now!" he screamed into the air. "Throw us away. Now you can. Now you can! Send us back to where we came from!" He subsided into spluttering laughter.

And just as suddenly, the ground was still, but the rain still beat down upon them, making pools and rivers on their exposed flesh. Sandon wiped his free hand on his robe, trying to get rid of some of the mud, so he could wipe the rain and hair out of his eyes. The other hand he kept firmly on Men Darnak's shoulder.

"We have to get him back to the lodge," he yelled at Kovaar.

The priest looked almost in as bad a state as the old man. He looked gray. He nodded again, water sluicing from his smooth head, and then, still holding one of the Princ.i.p.al's shoulders, he managed to get his feet under him and stand in a semi-crouch. Sandon followed suit. Together, they lifted the old man to his feet.

Men Darnak's head swung this way and that, his eyes round and dark like a terrified padder. "Who are you?" he said, making as if to push Sandon away, but apparently not having the strength. Sandon held tight to the old man's shoulder.