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

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 --