Seventeen

Long after the encounter with the lone Kallathik, Tarlain stood within the passageway entrance considering his options. His first urge had been to turn and walk rapidly away from the central chamber, head back to his simple burrow and sit until the beating of his heart stilled. That had been the first urge, and then he thought about why he was there, why he was buried away in the heart of the hills in the darkness and gloom, amongst a species not his own. Not that he particularly felt a part of his own race, or any particular race at the moment, but he reminded himself that he was here for a reason. Steeling himself, he stood tall, tried to adopt the air that was proper for a Men Darnak, stepped back into the chamber and cleared his throat. Two of the Kallathik heads turned to face him. The others stood where they were, unmoving.

“I am Tarlain Men Darnak,” he said, as clearly and as slowly as possible. “I am from the Guild of Welfare. I am here to help you.”

He heard the words repeated, then the signing of amusement, but he was not going to be deterred. He tried again, speaking in a loud clear voice. And suddenly there was a Kallathik right in front of him. He gasped, took two steps backward and the Kallathik was with him again. He swallowed, looking up into the vast alien face.

“But how did you...?” He had barely seen the Kallathik move. He had seen the rapid motion when the Atavists had been in the chamber before, but even that had not prepared him for the creature’s sudden presence right on top of him. He took another hesitant step back. No. This couldn’t be happening. He had watched the Kallathik for weeks. He had observed them from a distance for seasons before that.

“We know who you are, Tarlain Men Darnak. You are with the Guilds. You are the Principal’s offspring. You are part of the Principate.”

Again, Tarlain was rocked. They knew exactly who he was, what his station and function in life were, and they had understood exactly what he was saying. He tried rapidly to regain his composure, but it was hard with an enormous Kallathik looming above him and several more clustered in the chamber’s middle. Suddenly, he felt very much alone and very, very out of place.

“I...I...,” he started, then paused, took a deep breath and started again. “Yes, I am Tarlain Men Darnak. I am attached to the Guild of Welfare, but I am no longer part of the Principate.”

There was a long silence. He cleared his throat nervously, waiting. Finally, the Kallathik spoke in its sibilant, clacking voice. “What are you doing here?” it asked.

“I came to help you,” he said again, his voice sounding unconvincing even to his own ears. “Really…” He didn’t know whether the last was to convince them or to convince himself.

“Why would the Guilds wish to help us? Why would the Principal’s offspring wish to help us?” said the Kallathik. The amusement sign echoed all around the chamber, and Tarlain felt himself flush. He looked around the Kallathik’s bulk, scanning the sides of the vast meeting cave, looking at the cleanly hewn ceiling, then back at the creature standing above him.

“I don’t know why,” he said. “I do. We do. The conditions in the mines...” His voice trailed off, its echoes fading back to him mockingly from the walls all around him.

He tried again. “In the Guild of Welfare, we care about the well being of all our inhabitants, all the parts of our society...” Once again, the amusement sign echoed from the hollow walls and his voice trailed away to nothing. He had been so sure, so convinced of what he meant to do.

The Kallathik lapsed into silence once more. There was a long, long pause. Tarlain suddenly had the impression that there was more than silence going on. Finally the one in front of him spoke. “We are patient,” it said simply. “If you want to help, you should come with me now and you should understand. We have been ready for a long time.”

Despite his confusion, Tarlain nodded, and then when that provoked nothing, finally spoke. “All right. I will come with you.”

The Kallathik turned, and assuming it was what the creature meant him to do, Tarlain followed across the vast chamber and into a passageway across the other side. As he crossed, vague rustlings came from the other Kallathik. For some reason that he didn’t quite understand, he was still amusing them.

The Kallathik led him down a long corridor. Several other passages crossed its length, and though he tried surreptitiously to feel for his own marks at each junction, his fingers met smooth metal. How could he have missed this entire section? He pressed his lips together and followed, further, deeper into the darkness of the complex. The vent holes became fewer the further they went, and soon Tarlain was forced to keep one hand outstretched, fingertips tracing the metallic walls to make sure of his way. He could sense the vast bulk of the creature leading, but its shape was little more than blackness upon further blackness. Suddenly, the Kallathik stopped, and Tarlain nearly ran right into its tail. It spoke.

“Here, on the floor, there is a lantern.”

Tarlain knelt and felt with outstretched hands. He located the lantern, fiddled with it in the darkness, and after several attempts, managed to spark it to life. The yellowish glow guttered, then firmed and spread throughout the passage. The Kallathik stood nearby, watching him. The lantern light reflected from its dark, hard plates and sparked within its eyes. Tarlain’s gaze was immediately drawn to the huge totem beside the waiting Kallathik. It was a standard, precisely carved example of the Kallathik art, but there was something deeper, darker about the burnished wood. He frowned up at it.

“This is one of our own places,” said his guide, dragging his attention back. Tarlain wasn’t sure what the creature meant.

The Kallathik turned and wrapped its twinned arms around the totem’s body. With one effortless movement, it lifted the statue and moved it to one side. Tarlain gasped. The heavy, hard wood must weigh as much as a groundcar – more. The Kallathik moved forward again, leading him past the totem and into a new passageway. Remembering to close his mouth, Tarlain followed.

This tunnel led to another chamber, but its entranceway was small, and the Kallathik bulk obscured the space from view until the creature had pushed its way fully into the long chamber. The air was musty, but somehow dryer than it had been before. Tarlain held the lantern aloft, and caught his breath. On every wall, spread across the floor, lying in bundles, lay what he could only presume were spears. They were long, straight, pointed on each end. Hardened and tempered, made from the wood that the Kallathik held so dear. There had to be thousands of them. Tarlain swallowed once, twice in succession, trying to regain some of the moisture that suddenly seemed to be missing from his mouth.

#

Jarid looked out with satisfaction from the Guild Room’s windows. Yarik’s streets were nearly empty now. The occasional wagon or cart, teetering with heavy burdens, made difficult progress between the vast squat buildings and across the city squares. The quake of two days ago had opened a vast fissure across the main roadway outside and tumbled one of the walls of the building opposite. Jarid grinned as a wagon driver tried to negotiate the boards crossing the break in the road, while his companion flapped around giving instructions. What a life. He snorted and turned away from their painstaking advance. He had better things to consider. Markis was on his way. Everything was in place. He had managed to delay his father’s departure to the country estate just long enough with this detail or that detail that needed his attention. The old man had not suspected a thing. With Markis out of the picture, it had been easy to argue a lack of organization. And now ... now…

He strolled the length of the table, tapping his hand on the chair backs, one by one, then moved to the head of the table and looked along its length, imagining in his mind’s eye the faces gathered around. And there, right at the top, would be his place. He gave a quirk of his lips and closed his eyes.

“Jarid, there you are.”

Jarid opened his eyes, struggling to suppress a grimace. Stupid. He had to be far more careful. Slowly, he turned to face his father.

Thankfully, Aron Ka Vail seemed not to have noticed. “I’m glad I found you here. I need you with me. Karryl Ky Menin is coming. It’s lucky that you dissuaded me from leaving yet. Most fortunate. Apparently, Ky Menin has some serious matters to discuss.”

“What does he want?”

His father crossed to his usual chair at the head of the table and sat, slumping a little as he did so. Jarid held his look in check. His chair. It was his chair. The timing couldn’t be worse. Not here. Not today. Aron Ka Vail stared down at his hands before looking up.

He spoke slowly. “As far as I can tell, there is trouble between Ky Menin and Yosset Clier. We can’t afford it right now. I suppose now, with everything in disarray, with Men Darnak off wandering the countryside, Clier believes Ky Menin is vulnerable. He could be making a play for more influence in the Principate. Perhaps he means to topple Ky Menin entirely. The Prophet knows, Technology is a pain at most times, but Ky Menin is a shrewd operator. I hardly think he’s going to be an easy target.”

“But that’s ridiculous,” said Jarid moving to rest his hands on a chair in front of him. “What is Clier thinking? We need to maintain unity at the moment. Besides, Clier is one of ours. Primary Production should be standing together.”

“Exactly. I would think that’s why Ky Menin is coming here.”

“But I don’t see Clier doing this of his own volition.”

“Agreed,” said his father. “And who do you think might be behind it?”

“Why the wife, of course. The Men Darnak woman. She’s always held a firm grip on Clier’s, uh, assets.”

Aron nodded. “Quite right. Yosset should know better. I suppose he thinks that with the Men Darnak boy newly installed, he has more room to maneuver, but the problem is ... wait, unless ... unless Karin believes she can control the Guild of Technologists through her brother. That would give her access both to Primary Production and to Technology. That would really only leave Welfare, and with the younger Men Darnak boy gone, they would have to be more vulnerable.”

“Hmmm, I’m not convinced,” said Jarid. “Surely she can’t discount your influence.”

Aron steepled his fingers in front of his face. “She would not be so stupid. No…” he shook his head. “She never struck me as stupid. Anyway, we shall see when Guildmaster Ky Menin arrives. Whatever she’s planning, we will be ready. You can learn from this, Jarid.”

Jarid clamped his jaw shut, but his knuckles whitened on the back of the chair. Still the old man insisted on discounting him. Perhaps it would be his father that would be learning a few lessons soon. With that thought slyly insinuating itself, his grip relaxed.

“Yes of course, father,” he said, dutifully. He could pander to the old man’s sensibilities for now.

“Besides, isn’t there something else we need to talk about?” said Aron. “Tell me what’s happening with Markis. Anything further on his plans for world domination?”

Jarid pulled out the chair and sat. He leaned forward, his elbows on the table as he cultivated the right level of excitement and yet caution in his voice. “Not too much more, but I’ve persuaded him to return here before we finally close the buildings. It will give us the perfect opportunity to expose his plans.”

His father narrowed his eyes. “And how precisely do you intend to do that?”

“I’m going to confront him. He’ll have no option. I’ll tell him I’ve heard about what he’s planning and see how much he’s prepared to reveal.”

Aron sat straighter in his chair. “When? I want to be there.”

“No father, it’s best if I handle this alone. If he sees you, he might suspect. If Markis is smart, he’ll try and convince me to join him. Better to be in a position of strength. That way I can be sure to find out more and we can stop him before he tries anything foolish. That’s why I suggested we meet here. Once I have the truth of it, I can call for you and we can deal with the situation properly. You really do need to let me work on it first though.”

Aron thought for a moment and then nodded, but he still looked troubled. “When is he due?”

“Soon, very soon.”

“Good. Then you’d better go and be ready for him. Let’s have this done with. Come back and get me when you’ve learned all that you need to, and then once we’ve dealt with that, we can prepare for Ky Menin and his little problems.”

Jarid nodded, stood and left his father sitting there musing. He allowed himself just the vaguest smile as he strode quickly from the room.

#

He walked rapidly to the chambers, chambers that Markis had not yet properly vacated. He slipped inside the reception and looked around with a curl to his lip. That the difference between their allocations was so marked rankled. Here was Jarid Ka Vail, lesser son, lesser entity, destined to follow in the footsteps of his idiot older brother, and yet the halfwit was the one who got everything. He crossed to the broad couch and sat, letting his gaze rove around the wide space. Beyond lay the bedroom, the bathroom, the walk-in closets, the study, and these were just in the Guild building. Out on the country estates there was more. Certainly, as the successor to the Guildmaster, Markis was expected to live and work close to Guild affairs, but it didn’t mean he deserved to be treated with so much favor, did it? His stupid older brother. If it weren’t for Jarid, Markis would have had a hundred blunders exposed. More. It was true that his father had never made anything of the fact that Jarid was born in dubious circumstances that had caused the old man angst and potential humiliation, but, in the end, it had not cost the old man that much to keep Jarid’s mother dutifully quiet. Jarid had never even properly met the woman.

Markis was due some time this morning, barring accidents or the trammels of the weather. It was a reasonable journey, especially without the use of a groundcar, but knowing his brother, Jarid thought he’d do everything to make sure he was here. He had been half expecting to find Markis already installed in his rooms, waiting impatiently for his younger brother’s appearance. If he didn’t show now, either something was seriously wrong — and they’d receive word soon enough — or there had been a delay. Perhaps the quake of a couple of days ago...

He sat for over an hour, running over what he wanted to say, occasionally standing and wandering around the room picking through Markis’s things.

“Well, I’m here,” said Markis as he flung the door open and strode into the room. He looked weary and travel stained.

“Welcome back,” said Jarid. “How go things at the estates?”

Markis came and sat heavily in a chair opposite, passing a hand across his brow. “Well enough when I left. Everything is fairly quiet, and there’s been no further word from the mines. Apart from that, well, the preparations have been going how they go. You know.”

Jarid nodded, though inwardly he was thinking that he knew barely enough of how the preparations should go as far as the mines went. Jarid only got called in when his brother got himself into trouble. He hadn’t expected anything out of the ordinary out at the estates. “No trouble getting here?”

Markis sighed. “A couple of areas forced me to take fairly lengthy detours. The quakes have been particularly nasty in a few spots. We’ll be cleaning up for a long time after this one. But you don’t really want to hear about that. We have other things to talk about. What progress have you made with Father? Is he ready to talk to me yet?”

Jarid leaned forward, a sudden thought racing in his head. He needed time to work it through. “Don’t you want a drink or something before we start? Get rid of some of the road from your throat.”

“Yes,” said Markis. “By the Twins I could do with one. Wait here.”

He rose and disappeared into one of the side rooms. Jarid scratched thoughtfully at his leg while he waited. This new circumstance with Ky Menin had given him an idea. When Markis returned, he sat back in the large chair, and then looked briefly vexed.

“I’m sorry, Jarid,” he said. “Did you want anything?”

“No, I’m fine.” Nice of him to ask.

“So?”

“Well, first, let me ask you something. Have you been saying anything about the Guild of Technologists in public? To your friends, to anyone?”

Markis frowned and shook his head. “No, why should I? What opportunity have I had? I’ve been out at the damned estate. You know that.”

“Father is convinced there’s something going on. Karryl Ky Menin is on his way here this afternoon. Something about plans with Yosset Clier to undermine the old man’s position.”

“But that’s ... that’s just stupid,” said Markis, his frown growing even deeper. “You said you’d be working on it, Jarid, that you’d help him understand all this was nonsense. And now this? We’ve got to go and see him now.” He made as if to rise, but Jarid waved him down again.

“No. That’s not going to do any good at all right now. He’s in a foul mood. Everything was fine until this thing with Ky Menin came up. I thought I’d made some progress, but he can barely tolerate hearing your name at the moment. You know how he gets. I fear that going to see him now would only make things worse.”

“But I’ve come all the way here to sort this out, Jarid. What am I supposed to do — simply leave again?”

“Just sit there and stay calm for a moment,” said Jarid, waving his hand in a stilling motion. “I need to think.”

Markis sat there looking at him with a worried but expectant expression. Jarid sat trying to look as if he were considering possibilities. Soon. After enough time had passed, just enough to build the sense of tension, he reached behind himself and pulled out the object he’d been keeping concealed at the back of the couch and placed it carefully on the low wooden table in front of him. Markis’s eyes grew wide.

“What in the name of the Twins is that for? Is that what I think it is?”

The small pistol was a rarity. It had cost Jarid a number of favors to acquire it. Oh, they existed in the right places, but you had to know those places and the people who had access to them. The technology behind projectile weaponry had only been rediscovered over the last few years, and to this point, there had been little call to develop it further. Mainly, they served as little more than a rich man’s sport.

“I’m sure you know what this can do, Markis,” he said. This, my dear brother, is to show you how serious I am about what I am about to say.”

“I don’t — ”

Jarid cut him off with a wave of his hand. “You soon will. I know exactly what you’ve been playing at, Markis. You may be greedy and uncaring, and concerned about nothing else but yourself, but I love our father and that you would even think to harm him just for the sake of your own position...”

The look of utter disbelief on Markis’s face was beautiful. He first blanched and then started to flush.

“What in the Prophet’s name are you talking about?” he said, slowly getting to his feet.

“Don’t think you can fool me,” said Jarid, narrowing his eyes. “I know about what you’ve been scheming and planning, and if you think for one moment that I’m going to join in, then you need to think again.”

Markis was properly on his feet now. He had their father’s capacity for sudden anger, and the color was high on his cheeks. “What stupid game are you playing now? I’m not one of your toys, one of your stupid games!” he spat. He held one fist bunched beside him. He started moving around the table edge, but Jarid reached quickly for the pistol.

“No, Markis.” He said the words with deadly calm. He’d been playing this scene out in his mind for days. Markis stopped in his tracks, the anger warring with the shock inside him. He took a step backward. Jarid smiled. He lifted the pistol, and watching Markis with a steady gaze, he fired at the mirror on the opposite wall.

The loud report echoed around the room, and the sound of shattering glass tumbling to the floor crashed around them. Markis glanced behind him at the shattered mirror, then quickly back again.

“You’re mad,” he said in a low, quiet voice and took one more step.

“No. Far from it, my dear brother.” Jarid stood and took a step forward. “Now, I suggest you get out before I do something I regret.”

Markis needed no further encouragement; he dashed for the door, flung it wide, and sprinted down the corridor and away. Jarid smiled. And now, he thought. He lifted the pistol up above his head and fired into the ceiling, slightly off to one side. The weapon only held two shots. Markis had no way to know that, but it was enough. Here, clear to all who might care to look was the evidence of the struggle between the two brothers, of how Markis had tried to shoot his brother, of how he had fled from the scene. Tossing the pistol to the floor in front of him — it had served its purpose — Jarid reached up to mess his hair and tug at his clothing. Then he stood breathing heavily, waiting for the feet that were already pounding down the corridor.

#

Aron Ka Vail stood in the doorway of his son’s rooms, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. There, on the floor in front of him lay a weapon, tossed aside. The glass shards all over the floor on one side of the room, the hole in the ceiling that his men had pointed to, Jarid standing there and looking clearly as if he’d been in a fight, he saw it all, but still he didn’t understand. He leaned heavily on the doorframe reaching out his hand for support. Jarid looked out of breath, but right now, Aron was struggling for breath himself.

“What happened here?”

“It was Markis,” said Jarid. “He told me what he planned, and then when I refused to go along with it, he threatened me. And then he ... he shot at me, Father! We struggled…and then he escaped.”

Aron, just for a moment, felt the will to live slipping from his grasp. He slumped even more against the door, and then the anger grew within him, hot, undeniable. “He will pay for this,” he said quietly.

“Father, no,” said Jarid, pleadingly.

Aron held his jaw tightly closed, and then turned to one of the others in the room. “You,” he said. “See about getting this mess cleaned up. Jarid, come and sit over here. Tell me what happened.”

Jarid’s gaze flicked around, glancing at places all around the room, hesitating to meet his father’s eye. The boy was visibly shaken. “Come,” said Aron. He crossed to couch and sat, patting the space beside him. Screwing his lips tightly together, Jarid nodded and moved to sit beside his father.

“Are you all right?” asked Aron, peering into the boy’s face, placing a hand on his thigh.

“Y-yes. I suppose so.”

“So tell me.”

Jarid started hesitantly at first, but then the words tumbled from his lips.

“Markis came as we had planned, just like I told you. He said that he had everything in place with the Kallathik, and as soon as everything was closed up here and Yarik was properly shut down, he planned to take over the estates. He gave me the choice, said that I could either join with him or face the consequences. He would give me position, title and we could share in the running of things. If not, I’d end up just like you were going to.”

Aron sucked air through his teeth. “And what did he mean by that?”

“What do you think he meant? But there’s more. He had it all planned out. With Yarik closed, communications out, the Return, it would be easier for him to seize control, and he could do it without word of it getting through to others in time. He was going to start with your seat, then move from there.”

Aron felt the anger burning hotter inside him and he barely restrained himself from shouting. “What is this folly? The boy’s an utter fool. By the Prophet... No, he cannot get away with it. Tell me. What else?”

“He didn’t mention anyone specifically, but he said he had support within the Guilds.”

Aron frowned. There was a possibility of collusion, but he needed confirmation. He needed to wait until they had met with Karryl Ky Menin, and then he would decide. “We can’t let him get away, Jarid,” he said.

“I know. I know. I’m really sorry, Father. I didn’t expect…”

“No, Jarid. I am sorry.” He reached out a hand and patted the boy gently on the top of his leg. “Don’t worry. I am going to make this right. Markis is clearly unfit to hold his position.” He looked out into the distance, thinking. “But we have to stop him before he does any real damage. More than he’s already done. Thank the First Families that he didn’t manage to hurt you. We don’t have the resources to track him down.”

“No, you’re right. But we’re meeting with Ky Menin this afternoon. The Guild of Technologists has more at their disposal. We don’t know — perhaps they have something which will help.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” said Aron. The boy was always so quick. “We will speak to Ky Menin. You’re right. In the meantime, I will send some of the men to see if there’s any clue where Markis may have been headed. And no, I can’t see Ky Menin now. Not now.” He motioned to one of his men. “Send word to Ky Menin. Something’s come up. I will meet with him out on the estate, the evening after next.”

Aron was still staring into the distance. How could it have come to this? Why had he not seen it? He failed to notice the slight self-satisfied quirk to his younger son’s lips.

Chapter Eighteen