Binary, Jay Caselberg [top business books of all time txt] 📗

What do you suggest we do?"

"Nothing for now, but bear in mind that we need to watch him. Make sure we don't have any discussions with him separately. If you're going to talk to Din Baltir, make sure I'm there. Remember, we have to stand together in this, Roge."

Karin was leaning forward, almost as if eager to enter into a fresh debate with him, ready to pounce on the next thing he might say. He sat back, watching her. "Listen, Karin, do you really doubt that?" he said with a frown.

She too sat back after a moment and then sighed. "No, of course I don't doubt it, but we have to be careful, Roge. I just think you need to be aware of just how careful."

"Yes, yes, I know."

She seemed satisfied. "All right, what about the others?"

"Who for instance?"

"Well ... Yosset has Primary Production pretty well tied up in the areas that count, but there's an element there we have to watch for."

"Who?"

"Aron Ka Vail."

"What about him? He's going to retire soon, isn't he?"

"Yes, it does look like it, but I'm not sure that Yosset is positioned well enough to counter the Ka Vail sons. And besides, as far as we know, that's just rumor for now."

Roge pursed his lips. "Hmm. I wouldn't worry about the older boy. Markis, isn't it?"

Karin nodded. "No, you're right, but it wasn't Markis I was thinking about. It was the other one, Jarid."

"I don't see..."

"What, because Markis is going to take the position? Don't discount the other one. I haven't seen that much of him, but he always struck me as a player. Anyway, Ka Vail hasn't announced any intention of retiring, has he? As I said, it's just rumor." She looked down at her lap, smoothing her clothes over the flat of her thighs, then looked up again. "Ka Vail hasn't retired yet. So, until he does, the sons are an unknown. They're shielded by the presence of the old man. We can't afford to have unknowns either. You and I need to be sure, Roge."

Roge looked out of the window, out over the flat city skyline, thinking. She was right, there were far too many unknowns already. Karin always knew what she wanted, always knew what she had to do to get it. She'd been waiting for this time for years, putting things in place, making alliances, but now...? How could she possibly believe that she could control so many things at once? How could anyone control so many things at once? He liked things to be simple. He knew there was no real hope of that as Principal, but to take it to the extreme that Karin did. And how had Father managed? Roge couldn't imagine that the old man had made everything so complicated.

"Roge?"

"What?" he said, turning back to look at her.

"What are we going to do about the Ka Vail boys?"

"I don't know. I don't know. Why don't you get Yosset to deal with it? You can do that can't you? He's your husband, after all."

"Yes, yes, I know. But it's intricate. The way Primary Production is split makes it harder. The Ka Vail's have control of the mines and factories. Yosset is only involved in agriculture and transport. There are some crossovers, but not as many as you might think. Sometimes it's as if they were completely separate guilds, you know?"

It was Roge's turn to sigh. "Yes, I know that. I'm sure he can do something. The rumors have to be enough of an excuse, don't they? Let him talk to the Ka Vail boys, find out what they're thinking. Then you and I can talk about what we need to do."

She nodded. "Yes, you're right of course. Just sometimes..."

"What?"

"No, nothing. It doesn't matter."

"So ... what else?"

"Technologists."

"Yes."

"Well, what are we going to do there?"

He hated the way she did that, jumping from subject to subject. "What do you mean, what are we going to do? I'll look after it. It's my Guild, Karin."

"Yes I know it is. That doesn't mean we can ignore it."

He felt the resentment rising inside. "I'm not ignoring it."

"So tell me what you're doing."

"I'm looking after it." He closed his jaw firmly and took a sharp breath. What made her presume he wasn't capable of dealing with it?

She fixed him with a long calculating look. "All right, Roge. You look after it ... for now."

He tore his own gaze away and looked back out the window. "If there's anything we need to do, I'll let you know." He covered one hand with the other, gripping it hard, concealing the half-formed fist.

"Fine," she said, but he could still sense a trace of doubt still in her voice. "The lesser Guilds shouldn't present a problem at the moment. Everyone's too busy worrying about Storm Season and running around getting everything prepared."

Almost as if underlining her words, a deep rumble flowed over the city. Karin had stopped pinning him with her probing gaze and with the sound, had turned to look out the window. Roge looked at her sharp profile. There was very little of their mother in her face. Tarlain had the softer features, but Karin with her angled face, high cheekbones and pale skin mirrored her father. She was certainly her father's daughter. The only trace of their mother was the honey-brown hair. Roge ran his fingers through his own darker hair, and then rubbed his forehead. Yes, the lesser Guilds were all busy preparing for Storm Season. There was so much to do, and it wasn't just the Guilds that had to worry about it. Clearly, he had to be careful. Sometimes, just sometimes, Karin scared him.

Karin turned back and caught him looking at her.

"What?" she said.

Roge shook his head. "Nothing," he said. "Just thinking."

Aron Ka Vail paced the Guild Chamber. The burgeoning storm filled the wide polished room with gloom-touched light. He glanced out at the heavy pall of cloud with a grimace. Curse the Return. Always the same things to deal with time after time. He was getting too old for this. Over the past couple of seasons, he'd ceded more and more of the organizational requirements of this approaching time to Markis. Jarid was a useful backup, and the Prophet knew, Markis needed someone to clean up after him. Sometimes he just wished that Jarid were the elder. It would have made things so much easier. He would have been able to sit back and relax, content in the knowledge that everything, every detail would be looked after.

"Father?"

Aron stopped his pacing and looked up. Jarid stood at the end of the chamber. He beckoned the boy closer.

"What is it, Jarid?"

Jarid cleared his throat, standing with his hands on the back of one of the large ajura wood chairs. "I ... there's something I need to talk to you about."

"Yes? What is it?"

"It's Markis."

Aron sighed and crossed back over to the window to peer up at the roiling storm clouds. "What is it this time? What's he forgotten now?"

Jarid crossed to stand behind him. He spoke quietly. "No, Father, it's more ... well, it's more delicate than that."

Aron narrowed his eyes. He spoke without turning, his voice just as quiet. "What is it this time, Jarid? Are we going to cover old ground here?"

The rumble of far-off thunder stirred in the cloud mass. Aron waited for it to pass, leaning forward to watch some of the loading activities taking place in front of the Guild Halls below. "Tell me, Jarid. Are we going to talk about your position again? We've been through this a thousand times. You know what the Prophet's teachings require." There was a long pause. Jarid stood where he was, not saying anything. Aron continued. "You know what we have to do. Markis will hold the succession regardless of what you might say. Tradition dictates it. The Prophet requires it. What do you want? I know you can't help the circumstances of your birth. It doesn't mean I have any less love for you, but it's your duty to support your brother."

"As it's his duty to support you and your choices." The words came softly.

Aron took a moment as the statement sunk in, then turned slowly.

"What are you suggesting?"

Jarid stepped forward and stood close, his eyes at the same level as his father's. He took a breath and licked his lips before continuing, his face blank.

"Markis has been talking about changing things. He knows I'm unhappy with the way fate and tradition have denied me. He wants to use that. He's been talking about stirring up the Kallathik."

Aron Ka Vail pushed past his son. "What nonsense. What foolish tales are you concocting now?"

Jarid spoke without turning, still facing the window. "It's no tale," he said.

Something in the lad's voice made Aron stop where he was and turn slowly to face him. "Turn around and look at me."

Jarid did as he was told, leaning back on the window ledge and placing his hands behind him for support, an expression of deadly seriousness on his face. "You know we're having trouble with the Kallathik."

"As we do every time the Return is upon us. There's nothing new there. Every Storm Season they take their opportunity."

"And this time there's a reason for that."

"What? You're telling me that Markis has something to do with it. Come on, Jarid. You can do better than that." He moved back to join his son at the window. "What could he possibly have to gain from doing something like that? You really expect me to believe such stupidity this time."

Jarid nodded. "You will when I tell you what's been happening."

"So tell me. Let's see how much I believe of your little story then."

Jarid nodded slowly. "Markis has been spending a lot of time at the Kallathik burrows. It hasn't been to pacify them. I believe it's been to incite them, to take advantage of the current confusion. He's told me all about what he plans. He wants you to retire, to lose control, one way or another, so he can take over fully. He's sick of waiting for you to announce your retirement. He's asked me to work with him in return for a greater share of the power and his inheritance. With the Return here, with a Kallathik revolt, you'd be forced to travel to the burrows yourself to sort things out. No communication. Poor transport. Accidents happen in Storm Season, don't they?"

Aron looked at his younger son aghast. "How can you even suggest such a thing?"

"Because it's true." Jarid spoke in a flat tone.

For once in his life, Aron felt lost for words. He clamped his jaw shut and crossed back to the table. He pulled out a chair and sat heavily. He didn't know which was worse: to believe that Markis should become involved in a plot to unseat him by whatever means, even to the extent of his life, or that Jarid should concoct such a tale just as a way of bettering his position. Why now?

"Jarid, come here and sit down."

"No, Father. Before I do, there's something I have to show you. Wait here."

Aron frowned. What was the boy playing at now?

Jarid crossed the room rapidly and disappeared from the chamber. He returned a moment later with another person in tow. It was an Atavist! Jarid had brought a scruffy, dirty Atavist here, into the heart of the Guild, into the Guild Chamber itself. Jarid stopped with the Atavist a pace behind, looking around nervously.

Aron made to lift himself from