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

Yl Aris too. Every one of you will get what you deserve." He spat blood to one side.

Tarlain gestured to the man who was holding the message tube, never letting his gaze falter from Edvin's face. "So, let us see what little errand my sister has sent you on." He quickly broke the tube's seal and withdrew the paper contained inside. He only broke his gaze to look down and scan the message. When he looked up again, he gave a Edvin a slight smile.

"Well," he said. "It appears that Karin is acting just as always." He gave a brief, humorless laugh. He lifted the paper and waved it around. "This, my friends, is a message to Jarid Ka Vail."

Markis sat straighter, and his father let out a low hissing breath between his teeth.

Tarlain continued. "In it, she says that Yosset is becoming a liability to their plans. If Jarid deals with Clier, then he will earn his reward. And that reward ..." He paused. "Includes cementing their relationship."

Markis jumped to his feet. "How could he think that?" he said. "How could she think that Jarid would do such a thing?"

"Wait," said Aron Ka Vail, holding up a hand. "He can do it. He would do it."

Tarlain turned on the old man. "What do you mean?"

Aron hesitated, struggling with the words. "I have only shame for what I am about to tell you." He stopped, then started speaking again. "It was Jarid who was responsible for your brother's death."

Tarlain was across the intervening space in an instant. He had a handful of the old man's robes bunched in his hand. "What do you mean? Explain."

"Leave him!" yelled Markis, taking a step toward the two. Alise put a hand on Tarlain's shoulder, gently pushing him back.

Aron slowly shook his head. "I'm sorry Tarlain. May the Prophet forgive me, but I knew. Karryl Ky Menin came to the conclusion that Roge was too weak, that if he continued it would work against the Guilds. It was Jarid that arranged for Roge's 'accident' convincing him to travel in the groundcar. I don't know what he did to make it happen, but it was Jarid who did it."

"And you knew?" Tarlain said between gritted teeth.

The old man coughed again, saying nothing, just bowing his head. Tarlain turned away, an expression of disgust on his face. Markis sank slowly down to the ground. He stared across at his father, barely able to believe what he had just heard.

"Tarlain, if I might suggest..." Sandon had risen to his feet and was standing close to the young man.

"What is it, Yl Aris?"

"I think that this message may work in our favor, that we can use it to our advantage."

Tarlain frowned, still looking troubled. "How?"

"If the message were to be delivered to Yosset Clier, rather than Jarid as it was intended, might that not help us?"

"Yes, you're right. Of course you are!"

Tarlain turned away. He walked slowly to the rear of the tent, his head bowed. He stood before his chair for several moments, and then turned and sat, looking from one to other of the faces gathered about him.

"Sandon is right. We need to find a way to make sure this is delivered to Clier. As always, Yl Aris has teased apart the intricacies. Who can we send without suspicion?"

There was silence, broken only by a brief renewed struggle from Edvin. The men quickly subdued him, but not before he had spat out another curse. "You are lost, all of you. Do what you will. No one can get past the security, especially none of you. And even if you do, they know where your allegiances lie. You're finished."

Markis slowly rose to his feet again. "Wait," he said. "No one knows where I am. I can get to Yosset Clier. I can get there. Yosset would be bound to see me. Our links in Primary Production will let me through. If I know Jarid, he will have forgotten about me. Even if he hasn't, he would have discounted me. Dressed as I am, I should be able to get close enough to the estates to get through. What do you think?"

Tarlain stroked his chin and glanced at Yl Aris, who nodded. "Yes," said Tarlain. "It might work. We are about two days from the estates here. It will take us about that long to finalize our preparations. If you can deliver this message, then the division it would cause should feed into our timings well enough. Can you do it?"

"Yes," said Markis, finally feeling as if he could do something that was not entirely useless.

"So, perhaps the Ka Vail family can do something to redeem the situation," said Tarlain. "And as for you..." He drew the words out slowly. "Guildmaster Ka Vail. I will think about what to do with you later."

"Wait," said Markis, the words coming out laden with emotion, his hand balling into a fist. "Don't you think enough has been done to him?"

Tarlain whirled on him. "Has it? Has it? You think about that, Markis Ka Vail." Tarlain seemed to control himself with an effort. "Go," he said. "Do what has to be done." He spun to face the back of the tent.

Thirty-Five

Sandon squatted across the other side of the tent, watching the man who had once seemed so young, so ineffectual, wondering at the ways things changed. Most of the tent's other occupants had already left. Tarlain sat in the chair at the end, staring into space before him, rubbing a hand across his brow in a gesture deeply reminiscent of his father. He glanced across and caught Sandon watching him.

"Sandon," he said. "There are some things I have to say to you that are long overdue."

Sandon inclined his head and Tarlain continued.

"I was never very fond of you, but you probably know that. I could not see how you warranted the influence you held within the Principate and with my father. Certain things have happened over the past few weeks that have made me change my opinion. I have seen what you've done for my father, despite everything, despite what he did to you."

"It was only my duty," countered Sandon.

"No, but it was a duty that went beyond duty, Sandon. You have been completely faithful to that. I understand how beliefs can motivate you to do things, but what I've seen goes further than that."

"Tarlain, there is no need..."

"You're wrong, Yl Aris. There is a need. Despite everything, I want to thank you for what you've done for the old man. I understand now that everything you've done in the past, every subterfuge, every underhand manipulation, all of it was done in good faith in support of the Principal and his aims for the Guilds. It's taken me a long time to see that and I apologize that I did not see it sooner."

Sandon bit his lip. Tarlain looked away again, his gaze fixed in the middle distance.

A slight cough from the tent's entrance interrupted the moment. Alise stood just inside the tent flaps, waiting for their attention.

"Sandon," she said. "I think the old man is calm enough within himself to talk. Would you like me to bring him here?"

Tarlain stood. "Yes, Alise. Please."

A few minutes later, she led Leannis Men Darnak into the tent. He had been cleaned up a little. Fresh white robes hung from his skeletal frame. His hair hung lankly about his head, but it had been washed and combed. He looked confusedly about the tent's interior.

"Why do you take me to this place of death?" he asked, querulously.

"Father," said Tarlain, taking a step forward.

"Tarlain?" Men Darnak peered through the gloom.

"Yes, Father."

"Tarlain? Then I must be dead. I had a son called Tarlain, but he's gone."

"I am not gone, Father. I'm here."

The old man shook his head. "No, no. A long time ago. A long, long time ago. Let me look at his spirit." He took three stumbling steps forward and held out his arms. "You look like my son, but I have no children any more. They are all gone."

Sandon stood. "Principal," he said. "You are here with your son. We are all here. You have not yet passed from this life."

Men Darnak frowned. "Yl Aris? You too? But you are gone as well. Everyone is gone. This must be the afterlife. The Prophet has taken me." He looked around the tent. "Such a grim place for an afterlife don't you think?"

"This is no afterlife," said Tarlain. "Enough of this nonsense from the Church, Father. The priest's not here." He placed his hands on his father's shoulders. "You are here now. Here with us."

"And what of Kovaar?" said Men Darnak. "He must still be alive. That's why he's not here. Yes. We're dead and he's still alive." He frowned and nodded to himself, following his own chain of logic down whatever path it was taking.

"Kovaar is off across the camp talking to the Atavists, Principal." Sandon felt hollow, watching the man to whom he had devoted so much of his life reduced to this. He felt hollow and helpless. He could see the feeling echoed on Tarlain's face.

Men Darnak lifted a hesitant hand to his son's cheek. A tear spilled from one eye. "I'm sorry, Tarlain. I'm so sorry." His hand trembled as he slowly traced the shape of Tarlain's face. Then his attention was gone.

Tarlain turned away, his own eyes brimming with moisture. "Take him somewhere safe, Alise," he said quietly. "Make sure he's comfortable. Please ... please, look after him." His voice caught with the last request.

After Alise had withdrawn, leading the old man, Tarlain turned back to Sandon. "We have to make sure he's safe when we start. We can do that much at least."

Sandon returned Tarlain's imploring look, suddenly without any words. He felt powerless, powerless to do a thing, and that feeling gave him nothing but shame. He looked away, no longer able to meet the young man's gaze

.

Tarlain scanned the hillsides and the surrounding landscape, looking down over the clustered Storm Season holdings of the Guild dignitaries. He swallowed, knowing what was about to happen, how much of this was against everything he'd been brought up to respect and honor. He had seen what the Kallathik could do. Was this right? None of it was right any more. He'd seen what had happened to his father and now what they'd done to Aron Ka Vail too.

The Kallathik were motionless now, nothing to distinguish them from a line of carved totems, apart from the twin sets of spears they carried at the ready. Lines of wooden statues heralding the gray and windswept dawn. The breeze fluttered against his tunic. He could smell the rain in the air.

Off to the right, two hills away, stood the gaunt, robed figure of the priest, Witness Kovaar. At this distance, he could not make out the man's features, but the priest seemed to be in conversation with one of the Kallathik leaders. The creature's head was swiveled down attentively. Kovaar pointed across to one of the estates, then across to another. Tarlain turned his attention to the landscape in front. So, it had finally come to this. The Kallathik, the Church of the Prophet, the Atavists, the workers from the mines, all stood together, and there, below, lay the symbols of what they stood against. Over to the left stood the estates of Karryl Ky Menin, Guildmaster of the Technologists; further off in the distance, the estates of his sister, and her husband, Yosset Clier. Somewhere, out of sight from where he now stood, lay Welfare, and Primary