The man stopped, looked slowly back at Tarlain, snorted, shook his head and turned away again.

"Stop," said Tarlain.

In a blur, another, different Kallathik stood in front of the miner, twin spears poised, staring down at him with its four eyes, pa.s.sionless. The man swallowed, looked up slowly into those expressionless features and lifted his hands. He took a hesitant step back.

Tarlain had their attention now.

He lifted an arm. "And there," he said pointing.

Form the opposite corner, yet another Kallathik appeared in a blur of motion, stopping just as quickly as it appeared. The creature beside him had seen his signal and pa.s.sed it on. It had taken Tarlain a while to understand that they could also communicate at a distance, but now that he knew they could...

"That's what awaits you if you don't listen to me now," he said to the crowd. "And the Kallathik are ready to march. They are ready to march on the homes and the families and the holdings of everyone who stands in their way. We have treated them like creatures for too long. They have been patient while we have ripped up their world around them, but now they are patient no more." He paused, looking for signs that his words were sinking in. "You have a choice, all of you. I know the conditions you live and work in. They are not far removed from those of the Kallathik themselves. Those conditions are put in place by the Guilds and the Guildmasters who run them. Who gave them the power?"

Another voice from the crowd. "By the tradition of the First Families."

And another. "And by the Words of the Prophet."

Tarlain waved his hand. "The First Families brought us here for what? Look around you. Is this the paradise they sought?"

A low mutter broke out. Someone pushed someone else. The man pushed back. Someone else swung a blow.

"Stop!" yelled Tarlain. He couldn't afford to lose them.

"Whatever happens now," he said. "The Kallathik are going to march. You have a choice. You can march with them, or against them. The Guilds have ruled too long on a structure supported simply by tradition. Well, tradition is not enough. Now comes the time for change. Do you want a better life? A better life for you..." He picked out a face in the crowd and pointed. "And you...and you. Do you want a better life for all of us?"

The muttering grew.

"So, now is the time to make your choice. You either march with us, or against us."

Deliberately he took the steps to the ground, one by one. The paired Kallathik moved in behind him. The front ranks of the crowd shrank back. Slowly, he stooped and picked up the spear he had cast down, holding it to his side, one end planted in the ground.

"Make your choice," he said clearly. "You must make your choice now." He stepped forward and the crowd parted to make a way through their middle. Slowly, he walked the length, looking from face to face, the Kallathik shuffling along behind. As he reached the edge he spoke again, not looking back behind him, but in a clear strong voice so that all could hear.

"Those who are with us should follow us now."

He didn't bother to look back at how many followed as he strode down between the buildings toward the edges of Bortruz. He knew they were there. Bortruz would be the first--the first of many. And in ones and twos and in numbers, he knew they would join.

Somewhere, back in the crowd behind him, unnoticed, a solitary figure slipped away, heading for the stables where his padder lay tethered and waiting.

Thirty-Two.

One by one, the Guild dignitaries filed into the broad hall. One by one, they took their seats. Though there was no formal placement a.s.signed, the natural hierarchy that worked within the Guilds manifested in their choice of seating. This large wooden barn, set aside from the main cl.u.s.ter of buildings on the old Men Darnak estates had many times served the purpose for both impromptu and formal meetings of the upper echelons of the Guild functionaries. Karin stood off to one side, close to Karryl Ky Menin, watching as they moved to their places, low conversations stirring amongst them. She had only the slightest tinge of nervousness. Ever since word of Tarlain's activities had reached them, there was no question. She knew what she had to say. She knew what she had to do. She only prayed that these, the men who made the Guilds work, would give her the audience to do it.

The Guild leaders had come from all the surrounding estates, in buggies and wagons and on the backs of padders, heeding the urgent call to Guild business sent out by Karryl. In the front row sat her husband, watching her with narrowed eyes. Three places down from him, was Jarid Ka Vail. She had that one, she knew, and she suppressed the slight smile that threatened to creep onto her face. There would be time for that later. Plenty of time.

Torches lined the walls, flooding the s.p.a.ce with warm flickering light, and three high-backed chairs lined the wooden podium to the hall's front. A long, low table sat in front of the chairs, forming a subtle barrier between those that sat on the stage and those below. Just briefly, she was reminded of the meeting in the Guild halls back in Yarik when her father had delivered his final announcement. Well, this time it would be different. Just how different remained to be seen. She scanned the faces, trying to judge whether everyone was here. A low buzz washed across the open s.p.a.ce, losing itself in the empty vaults of the high-roofed structure. She glanced at Karryl, standing impa.s.sively, his hands folded in front of him, waiting for the noise to settle down.

Finally, the noise level dropped and the fifty or so Guild functionaries started to settle. Karryl gave a brief nod and moved toward the stage, climbing the three short steps, and crossing to stand at the center, in front of the low table. For once, he had worn a muted gray, instead of his normal pale cream. If anything, it made him seem more pallid, waxier. He lifted his hands slowly and held them, palms forward, for quiet.

"Can I have your attention please? Thank you all for being here, for taking the trouble to join us," he said. "We have business to conduct this evening. Important business." He gave a quick glance around the a.s.sembled faces, and then continued speaking. Karin watched, looking for reaction.

"Storm Season is upon us now," continued Karryl. "And there is a greater storm growing in our midst. We are entering a time of change. This is not a change in the seasons, a change in the way we conduct our business day to day, but a change in the way we need to approach everything we do."

"We've heard this speech before, Ky Menin. Why have you brought us here?" It was Aldus Yak Farin, a Guildmaster from one of the subordinate Guilds. Karin could not remember which one, and she pressed her lips together tightly at the lapse. All she remembered about him was that he was always vocal.

"No, Guildmaster Yak Farin," said Ky Menin, completely unfazed by the interruption. "You have not heard this speech before. If you will let us proceed, everything will become clear."

Yak Farin snorted and sat back in his seat, crossing his arms. Karin knew the man could be discounted, but it didn't make this any easier. One or two heads had turned to look back at him. Yak Farin met the looks and snorted again, shaking his head slightly.

"We have important news," said Ky Menin, once everyone had settled again. "Because of that news, I would like Karin Men Darnak to join me up here to talk to you."

The reaction was immediate. A couple of the Guild leaders got to their feet. Others called out. Several shook their heads, muttering.

"Wait," said Ky Menin, lifting a hand.

"Why should we?" yelled someone. "You go too far, Ky Menin. Why should we listen to this?"

For the first time Karin could remember, Ky Menin seemed to lose his veneer of calm. A flush came to his cheeks and he lifted his voice over the growing noises of protest.

"You will listen! Or you will lose everything you have. Is that what you want? Now please take your seats and be quiet."

The uncharacteristic outburst had its effect. Slowly, gradually the Guildsmen took their seats. Ky Menin urged them down with his hands, and when relative calm had been restored, nodded briefly to Karin. Taking a deep breath, she crossed to the stage. She moved to the center, waiting as Ky Menin withdrew to slip behind the table and take one of the seats. She was suddenly alone, facing a room full of hostile faces. Another deep breath and she started.

"You all know me. You all knew my father. Every single one of you knew my brother." She picked out one or two key faces and met their eyes. "Storm Season is with us, but so is a time of change, a time when we have to act. The Kallathik are marching and we must defend everything that goes to make us strong, to defend everything pa.s.sed down to us by the First Families."

"Trouble with the Kallathik. It's Storm Season. Tell us something we don't already know." It was Yak Farin. "Why should we listen to you? How can you stand there and talk about what was handed down by the First Families."

It was Karin's turn to lift a placating hand. "There is something you don't know, and more," she said, unperturbed by the interruption. "The miners have joined with the Kallathik. And there are others. They are moving against us even now. Some of you may have heard that already. Well we can confirm it's true."

There was a stir across the hall.

"Even now, they are marching toward these estates, prepared to take from us everything that the Prophet has granted us, preparing to rip away the very fabric and the order of our society. You know me. You knew my brother, Roge. If he were here today, he would be the one standing here before you. But he's not here. Nor is my father, Leannis Men Darnak. We are without a Princ.i.p.al. So, I stand here before you, representing the family of Men Darnak, representing that tradition that has kept us alive on this world since the day when the ships first crashed from the sky. Yes, I am Men Darnak. Do you hear that? I am Men Darnak. I am my father's daughter, and you, all of you, need to understand what that means."

"What do you mean the miners have joined with them?"

"Just what I say," she said. "They have taken up weapons, as have the Kallathik. But that is not all..." She had them now; she could sense it. One by one, she looked around the faces in the hall, pausing at one or two, making the briefest eye contact with others, but touching each of them with her glance. "They have banded together with the Atavists as well. There is a combined force heading our way, led by Tarlain, my younger brother--"

There was a stir across the hall at the mention of his name, but she spoke over it, driving the words home. "--and they mean to take us and everything that is ours, to overthrow our social order. We cannot allow that to happen. By the Prophet and in the name of the First Families, we cannot allow that to happen. The very nature of everything we believe in is under threat. We, all of us, must work together to crush this heresy, to place these fools back in the place they belong. Does not the Prophet tell us that everything in this world has its place?" She spread her palms wide, pausing to let the words sink in. "Now. Are you prepared to listen? Are you prepared to act? Are you prepared to do what we must to restore the proper order to things? You..." She swept one arm in a wide gesture. "Have a duty to your Guild, have a duty to the other Guilds, have a duty to the Prophet's teachings and the traditions of the First Families."

Several of the Guildmasters were on their feet. "What do we have to do?" called one.

"How can we fight the creatures?" said another.

She gestured for them to resume their places and glanced back at Ky Menin, giving him a brief nod, before turning back to the audience. She could not let her satisfaction show. Not yet. But the daughter of Leannis Men Darnak finally had the Guilds.

"Each of you has men. Each of you has household staff and members of your Guilds living on your estates or nearby. We must prepare. Guildmaster Ky Menin has some plans. He also has one or two surprises that will help us win this conflict quickly and efficiently. If you are all in agreement, I will defer to the Guildmaster to share his thoughts, and we can plan together as a group. Then, make no mistake, we will fight. We will fight and we will drive them back to where they came from and we will restore the proper order."

Seeing no dissent, she nodded to Ky Menin, and then stepped around the edge of the low table to take one of the chairs herself. She looked out over the faces of the Guild leaders as Ky Menin started to speak. They were absorbed in what he was telling them, and she sat back, at last letting the sense of victory work within her.

Two of the group had their attention not on Ky Menin, but on her. Yosset still watched her and her alone, a slight narrowing of his eyes still evident. The other face turned toward her was that of Jarid Ka Vail. She met his eyes, gave him a long, pointed look and then looked away.

She would deal with Jarid when the time came, just as she would deal with her husband and with Karryl Ky Menin. Slowly, she savored the words in her head. Princ.i.p.al Men Darnak. She gripped the arms of the chair and bit gently on the inside of her lower lip. Princ.i.p.al Men Darnak. Princ.i.p.al Karin Men Darnak.

Thirty-Three.

The shout came from behind one of the sandy hills of mine leavings and Sandon swung about to see what was happening. Slowly, in a seemingly unordered fashion, the first padders and wagons appeared, making their way around the edges of the humped piles of discarded earth and rock. Despite the stupidity of it, Sandon felt his heart lift. He had only spent a mere few weeks with these people, but he continued to feel a closeness to them all the same. And he was still dressed like one of them Tchardo the Atavist. It was almost like his family was coming home.

Not wanting to be too obvious about it, he searched for sign of a particular wagon. At last, he was rewarded. A neatly painted vehicle appeared around the bend. He watched it out of the corner of his eye as he walked across to one of the Kallathik groups to see how preparations were going. He didn't want to appear too eager, did he?

The group had been here for three days now, just outside of Darthan, near another cl.u.s.ter of mines and another Kallathik settlement. People, Kallathik, mineworkers had been streaming in from nearby areas to join them. Not an hour before, Fran had returned, bringing news of Tarlain. He sought among the a.s.sembled humans for the boy's face, trying to locate him by his hair. Finally spotting the boy, he headed across to meet him. Fran was standing with a group of the other Men Darnak retainers, but of the old man, there was no sign. A quick look about gave Sandon no hint as to where the Princ.i.p.al might be.

"Fran," he called as he approached the group.

The boy quickly looked around as he heard his name, and making his apologies, stepped back from the others. There was a half smile on the boy's open face as he neared.

"Tchardo," he said. "It's good to finally get a chance to talk to you."

Sandon placed a hand on his shoulder and drew him out of earshot.

"Yes, sorry it's taken so long. With the preparations the way they are, things are a bit hectic. So, you managed to talk to Tarlain?"

Fran nodded. "He wasn't very happy."

"No, I expect he wasn't. So, what's the news?"

"Oh, he's coming. He cursed his sister, his brother, after he had gotten over the shock. The news hurt him bad. He vowed to make amends for what they had done. He would have come straight away, but said that the work had to be done first."

"So, was there any trouble finding him?"

Fran shook his head. "Not really. Once I was in Bortruz, it was easy from there. He'd been talking to people, making speeches. They all knew him, knew where he'd gone. The whole place was buzzing with it. He'd really stirred them up."

Sandon nodded thoughtfully. "So, it appears that young Tarlain has inherited something of his father's spirit. I wonder what happened to bring that out."

Fran shrugged. "I don't really know anything about that," he said.

"No, no. But that's fine. You've done well, Fran," he said, clapping the boy on the back. "Thank you. Now, we should get back and see what we can do about helping the preparations. You go back and join your companions, but listen, make sure not to let on about whom I really am. It's not time yet."

Fran nodded seriously, and then grinned. "It's good to see you, Tchardo." Sandon returned the grin easily.

He watched as Fran headed to rejoin the other Men Darnak retainers, and then turned about to search again for the familiar wagon, stroking his beard thoughtfully. He was a little nervous about seeing Alise again. No matter that everything had been so easy between them from the start. Events were taking over now, and he couldn't afford for it to become complicated. Not yet.

So, Tarlain was on his way here. That much was good. He scanned the camp, at the same time still looking for any sign of Men Darnak. The old man had shown little improvement, and the burden of that knowledge stayed with Sandon constantly. The Atavist party had drawn up together to one side. They were in the process of tethering their animals and lining up the wagons, but still no sign of the Princ.i.p.al. In the old man's current state, that was not good. The old man had already said he would not see any of his children, particularly not Tarlain. In one of his more lucid moments, he'd even said that he was ashamed of what he was, of what he'd done. Sandon rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced. Somehow, some way, he held a certain responsibility. If he'd not been so quick to follow what he believed was his duty to the old man, things might have turned out very differently. And now? Leannis Men Darnak needed his youngest son. He had nothing else to hold on to. Not even the fragile shards of his own mind.

Sandon looked back up at the Atavist grouping. They'd swelled in numbers since the time he'd been with them. There seemed to be almost twice the amount of wagons, all lined up in their brightly painted but simple hues. Already their encampment was starting to look well established. Tables set up, beasts tethered in even lines, the children doing what the Atavist children did, there was little to say that this was not their natural place. He paused, but knew within that he had no choice; he had to go and see them.

It was months ago now that he'd spent the time among these people. So much had happened in between, and yet there was something here, something that touched him with a feeling of comfort. One or two of the Atavists pa.s.sed him and gave the characteristic brief nod of recognition. Sandon almost smiled at that. It was strange, that they could be so pa.s.sive, and yet at the same time, he knew they were here to fight, to take up arms against the Guildsmen. Somewhere, he'd have to find the reference in The Book of Words that allowed them to do this. But that was later. He noticed Witness Kovaar scurrying away from the opposite end of the camp. Whatever he'd been up to, it would lead to no good. There were more pressing things to attend to now.

He paused in front of a pa.s.sing Atavist, and without waiting for the man to stop, he asked. "I am seeking Alise. Do you know where she is?"

The Atavist paused, looking confused for a moment, and then tilted his head to one side. "Alise?"

"Yes, Alise. The healer. Do you know her?"

The Atavist shook his head and pursed his lips. "I know no Alise," he said. "If you seek a healer, go to the blue-painted wagon fourth from the end. You will find one there."

"Thank you," said Sandon, and the Atavist went on about his business, but not before giving Sandon a slightly puzzled look.

Peering along the line of wagons, Sandon located the one the man had indicated. It was his turn to frown. Perhaps all healer's wagons looked the same. He stood at the back steps, hesitating. What if it wasn't the one he was looking for? Then he would ask his questions and leave.

"Sandon!"

Alise's face was poking out of the back of the wagon, beaming down at him.

Sandon quickly glanced around, but there was no one nearby to overhear. "h.e.l.lo, Alise," he said. "And remember, it's Tchardo."

She looked troubled for an instant, and then the look was quickly replaced by a smile. "Yes, of course. Tchardo. It's good to see you again. Have you changed your mind and come to join us?"

"No," he said, slowly. "But it's good to see you too. I was hoping you'd be here."

"And so the Prophet Wills," she said, stepping out of the wagon and climbing down to sit on the bottom step. She looked at him carefully. "You have lost weight," she said. "And your beard is longer."

Sandon smiled. "And you look just the same," he said. "There is nothing that should change."

She looked down, a slight flush coloring her cheeks.

"So, what has been happening to you? Tell me about it," she continued, quickly changing the subject.

"Can I join you?" he asked. She nodded and he sat on the step next to her.

"Well, since I left, I have been traveling most of the time. I found who I was looking for, but I fear he was not who I expected to find." He glanced around again, making doubly sure that there was n.o.body who could hear what he was about to say. "There is something wrong with Princ.i.p.al Men Darnak," he said quietly. "That's why I'm here now. His condition, his behavior has deteriorated. It's as if something has been draining away his capacity to think rationally. I've come to you because, well, I don't know. You heal people, Alise. I wanted to know if you thought there was anything you could do."

She looked at him seriously, waiting for him to continue. When he said nothing else, she spoke. "You should know better than that, Tchardo. How much time did we spend together? How am I expected to know the answer if you don't give me what I need? I'm afraid you will have to tell me a little more than that."