Binary - Jay Caselberg (best electronic book reader .TXT) 📗

out its features in the dim light, it was apparently regarding him. A moment more, and it seemed to make up its mind. It took another step closer, then stopped. Tarlain waited. To have been noticed at all was one thing, but to be worthy of such sudden attention was another thing entirely.

The Kallathik drew close to him. It tilted its head to look down on him. "You are lost," it said. It was a question.

"No, I'm just..."

"You are lost," repeated the Kallathik. This time it was not a question. "You should be with the others."

"Others? But--" Tarlain bit off the rest of what he had been going to say. Others? Who else could be here? Perhaps finally Din Baltir had come looking for him, or perhaps someone from his father. "Yes, of course," he said quickly.

"What are you doing here?" The Kallathik stared at him with its impenetrable gaze.

"I... I just needed a breath of fresh air. I went for a walk. I guess I lost my directions."

The Kallathik said nothing for several long moments, just standing there, peering down at him. Tarlain's unease grew. He cleared his throat. The Kallathik turned its head to look up the passage down which Tarlain had just traveled, then turned back to peer down at him again.

"Go back down this passage," it said. "Continue to the end. Turn. Walk more. It will lead you to the chamber with the others." It looked at him for several moments more, as if determining what it had just said had sunk in, then turned to face back up the passage and continued on its way.

Tarlain, still pressed flat against the tunnel wall, could barely believe what he had just heard. The sound of the Kallathik scraping up the passageway faded to dull, distorted echoes, then drifted away entirely. Tarlain was left alone once more in the gloom. He could not remember ever hearing a Kallathik utter such an extended group of clear, meaningful sentences. And it was about something apparently unimportant. He frowned. Strange. But still not as strange as there being someone else here. And the Kallathik had assumed he had been part of a group. What group? What group could possibly be here? Perhaps it was something to do with Roge, or maybe Din Baltir really had finally sent someone. But if that were the case, they would have surely come looking for him. He pushed himself from the wall and headed in the direction that the Kallathik had indicated.

At the junction, he found one of his marks on the adjoining wall. Thinking about it, he pulled out his knife and scored another, just below the first and parallel to it. This was a tunnel he needed to remember. He ran his fingers over the twin marks, making sure they were deep enough, the returned his knife to his belt. There. On the way back, he would make other, similar marks at all of the intersections leading to this particular part of the complex. He'd had quite enough of wandering aimlessly through this warren.

As he neared the chamber at the end of the last passage, the sound of voices drifted vaguely through the heavy air. He couldn't make out individual words, but he could tell there was more than one voice. A man's voice, followed by a different man's voice, and a Kallathik followed that. Then the second man's voice came again. Tarlain slowed, drawing closer to the wall, his sudden caution prompted by memories of the last time he and his father had spoken. He didn't know who these people were or what they were doing here, deep in the Kallathik network. His senses singing, he crept toward the yellowish glow issuing from the passageway's end.

Atavists! In the center of the vast meeting chamber stood an odd group--two Atavists and several Kallathik. They were clustered on a raised rock platform, typically used for the formal speaking of one or more of the Kallathik leaders. Lamps lit the edges of the chamber, probably as a concession to the Atavists themselves, though Tarlain had never quite worked out how the Kallathik managed to light lamps, or why they would use them in the first place. He moved as close as he could to the opening into the chamber, still pressed tightly against the wall. He strained to make out what they were saying, leaning as far forward as he felt was safe without risking discovery. The darkness of the tunnel itself, and the dim lighting should protect him from direct observation, at least from the Atavists, but of the Kallathik, he was not so sure. And yet, what if that particular Kallathik that had spoken to him were to return? He glanced nervously back up the tunnel, but there was no sign of any movement.

The burr and buzz of a Kallathik voice drifted to him from the chamber, working at his attention. It was completely impossible to make out what it was saying, despite straining forward to hear. Another Kallathik spoke, and it was the same. Then one of the Atavists spoke. He was an older man, bearded, but that was all Tarlain could tell at this distance. The Atavist's robes effectively hid any further detail. This one's voice, he could hear, though not all of the words. The man's speech was slow and deliberate.

"We are close, my Kallathik friend. Signs of the instability are ... sweeps down on us in the same way Storm Season grows with every day."

One of the Kallathik said something and the other Atavist nodded slowly in response. The other Atavist looked younger. The robes he wore were paler, his beard dark. He wasn't quite as tall as the one who had spoken. Tarlain got the impression that the older man was in control of the situation, the second Atavist subordinate. The sounds of a Kallathik voice again, and then the older man spoke.

"If the Prophet wills..."

Tarlain strained forward, trying in vain to decipher the Kallathik voice that followed. Nothing. This was next to useless. He ground his jaw in frustration. What were the Atavists doing here anyway? That was the big question. His caution had been worth it.

The older man was speaking now. "We have positioned our family in places that we can take advantage...as soon as the Prophet guides us." The buzz of a Kallathik voice, and he nodded, then continued. "No. You are right. We will be close enough to tell the signs. We have been close enough to tell the signs ... Seasons now." The older Atavist spread his hands. "They leave us to get on with our life. We are of no concern to them."

Another interruption, this time from another quarter, and the second Atavist answered. His voice was less deliberate, less controlled. He was clearly nervous in the Kallathik presence.

"Of course the trade is important. We understand your needs."

Tarlain frowned. The words made sense, but what they were talking about eluded him. Trade? What trade? He knew that the Atavists and the Kallathik had dealings from time to time, but like anything to do with the Atavist community, the details had more or less slipped right past his awareness, as it had slid quietly past the attention of most of the Guild community.

The older Atavist was speaking again. "When we are ready, we will pass word ... Yes, of course. They have no idea of ... numbers. And when they are struggling because everything they rely upon is no longer there, then, with the Prophet's guidance, we can step in ... finally cleanse the world of their evils for good."

A Kallathik who had been standing toward the rear of the group loomed forward suddenly, and the Atavists stepped back reflexively. Tarlain would have done the same. The movement had been so quick. It buzzed something, and the older Atavist, seeming to have regained his composure stepped forward again, moving close to the creature to say something lost to Tarlain, because now he was facing in the opposite direction. The creature's size dwarfed him.

After a few more moments of incomprehensible conversation, they seemed to have reached some agreement, because both Atavists stepped back, clasped their hands in front of themselves and together, inclined their heads. They turned, and with another Kallathik accompanying them, headed for a darkened entrance on the other side of the chamber. The remaining Kallathik clustered around each other on the central platform in a huddle, apparently discussing whatever it was that had just passed between them and their Atavist visitors.

Tarlain had seen enough for the moment. He started to withdraw back into the tunnel, sticking close to the wall and keeping one eye on the group assembled in the central chamber. He took one step back, two, and then...a large hand gripped his shoulder from behind. No, it wasn't a hand; it was harder, larger, more like a huge pincer. Tarlain felt his stomach drop. He turned slowly, swallowing, to look up into a broad Kallathik face, emotionless sets of eyes peering down at him from above. The Kallathik tilted its head to one side, its grip upon Tarlain's shoulder constant.

"This place," it said.

"But I -- "

The Kallathik looked up and peered into the chamber, before looking back down at Tarlain. It held the gaze for several moments, maintaining its restraining grip, as if processing something. It looked back into the chamber, and then froze. The grip on Tarlain's shoulder was starting to become uncomfortable. The Kallathik had ceased all movement. It might have been a statue standing there, and just as immovable. Tarlain swallowed again, then tried to slip out from beneath the creature's grasp. He was held tight. He could be stuck here like this for hours, and the pain in his shoulder was becoming unbearable.

"Please," he said. "Can you let me go? I am Tarlain Men Darnak, attached to the Guild of Welfare. I think you have made a mistake."

This, at least, invoked some reaction, for the Kallathik swiveled its head to peer back down at him.

"Welfare," it said.

"Yes, Tarlain Men Darnak. You know who I am. Guild of Welfare."

"Welfare," said the Kallathik again.

Tarlain sighed. Sometimes dealing with the Kallathik was close to impossible. "Yes," he repeated. "Tarlain Men Darnak."

There was another pause, an extended scrutiny, and then, without uttering another sound, the Kallathik released its grip on his shoulder, shuffled past him, and headed into the chamber, leaving him standing where he was as if he simply didn't exist.

Perhaps it had been a mistake telling the Kallathik who he was. It had obviously thought him a member of the Atavist party. He grimaced. All the same, it had produced the desired effect. Not wanting to push the matter any further, Tarlain slipped back up the corridor and away. Suddenly, he had a great deal to think about. A great deal indeed.

Fifteen

In the end, Sandon decided to give Bortruz a wide berth. There was nothing to be gained from attracting the attention a strange Atavist wandering around the town looking for Principal Men Darnak might warrant. That was the sort of thing people were bound to talk about despite the start of Storm Season. News of the changes in the Principate should have filtered down through the populace by now. The Principal's effective abdication would be on everybody's lips. He could hear the sorts of questions now. What were the implications? The older Men Darnak boy -- did he really have the makings of a Principal? And what of the Guilds? What did it all mean? For a mining town such as Bortruz, all these things would have significance. Any place with its major activities centered on the concerns of any of the greater Guilds would feel the impact of any such significant change within