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that they seize control at least temporarily rather than you have your way. You forget my sons. They will make you pay for this. You will pay."

Karin laughed. Ky Menin stood and barked a short, sharp ugly laugh as well.

"Your sons! You really are an old fool Ka Vail. How do you think we know about what you've been doing? Your sons! One's a halfwit, and the other is working with us, you pathetic old man. At least Jarid is bright enough to see that things have to change. And change they will."

"J-Jarid?" whispered Ka Vail, haltingly.

"Yes," said Ky Menin, leaning in closer for emphasis. "J-Jarid. Your beloved younger son." He gave a short laugh again, and applied the device quickly to the old man's forehead. Once more, the sharp crack, and the old man collapsed into a heap in the chair.

Ky Menin stood up, looking over to Karin. She was sitting calmly, watching the proceedings.

"What now?" she asked.

"Well, we can get rid of that," said Ky Menin, waving his hand at the unconscious form of Ka Vail. "If what he said is true, we will have to organize the Guilds ourselves. We have to put the Kallathik and anyone else in their place. We have the means of doing it. We can call the Guilds together for a meeting at your estates. Get Jarid to help you. He will be eager to assist with the old man out of the way. I'm sure that if he shows himself cooperating, he might just believe it will cement his position within Primary Production. We should use that."

Karin nodded, glancing back over at the unconscious Ka Vail. "And what about him?"

Ky Menin didn't even bother looking at the old man. I'll get my men to dump him somewhere outside the estates. He may not get far in the storms, but I think he'll serve us better alive. No matter if he doesn't make it though. Word will get out. They'll see what happens to those who choose to work against our interests."

Karin stood and crossed to join him. She reached out and took his hand. "I always believed you were the cleverest among them, Karryl," she said. There was a brief, amused, twitch of her lower lip, and something else resting in her gaze. The way she was looking at him...

Carefully, Ky Menin extricated his hand from her grasp. "Come on," he said. "We have things to prepare."

The slight narrowing of Karin's eyes did not escape his notice.

Twenty-Eight

Tarlain had learned much since the Kallathik disclosure. The Atavists had been visiting for Season after Season, along with radical members of the Church of the Prophet. Even then, the Kallathik had been slow to respond, slow to do anything. Was it any wonder that their rapid locomotion came as a complete revelation? The rumors and occasional evidence of Kallathik disquiet over the Seasons had been the result of the constant pushing from Atavist visitors, but now, somehow, the Atavists had been able to convince the leaders of this sept that the time for action was nigh. It had to be linked to the instability of the transition as much as anything. He sighed and ran his fingers back through his hair, stopping the short pacing back and forth across the dim chamber. Everything he'd discussed with Din Baltir would come to nothing if this hive and others joined together in the manner they were suggesting. Whether the Kallathik liked it or not, the human population was here to stay. That didn't mean that those not a part of the Guild hierarchy had to suffer. What about the miners? What about the groups of itinerant workers? The farm workers? There were more here than the Atavists.

The miners and farmers�

An idea was starting to form. He linked his fingers behind his neck and stared up at the low ceiling, then caught himself. He'd seen his father doing exactly the same thing in his chambers when he was working through a knotty problem. It brought a quick grunt of surprise. Were such things passed down from parent to child? He wondered briefly where his father was now.

The noise of a Kallathik moving down the passageway outside brought him back to the immediate. If he was going to have any success with the creatures, he had to act soon. Who knew what it would take to stop them, or alter their course once they had started?

He waited till the noise of the Kallathik had faded, then slipped out into the dank passageway, headed for the central chamber and the direction which the lines of hulking armored forms had taken to the outside.

There seemed to be no real order to the Kallathik grouping outside. There were small clusters, there were larger groups, there were even lines, spread out across the valley floor. Up near the main burrow entrance, four Kallathik stood, looking out over the rest of their kind, motionless. If there was any communication between these four, Tarlain could not tell from where he was. He thought that at least two of those standing up there on the hillside were familiar, but it was still hard to tell. Wasting no more time, he strode across the open space heading for their position.

As he approached, one of the vast heads swiveled to face him. He picked up his pace and stood a couple of feet away directly in front of it.

"I need to talk to you," he said, mustering as much authority as he could.

There was a pause, and then the Kallathik spoke. "Talk," it said.

Tarlain wasn't sure whether it was a question or an invitation. He swallowed, took a deep breath and looked the Kallathik straight in its twinned pairs of eyes. "This is wrong. There is a better way," he said.

A slight shaking of the Kallathik's tail section and it turned its face away.

"No!" said Tarlain. "You will listen to me."

The vast head turned slowly back and the Kallathik readjusted the position of the spear it held. Tarlain swallowed again, but this was too important to let the gesture intimidate him. The creature said nothing, just fixing him with its unreadable gaze.

"You are making the wrong choice," he said. "My people have made wrong choices too, but there is a better way. What are you going to do? Seek out every last man woman and child and kill them? You are a peaceful race. I know it. You have no strife, no trouble among your kind. You don't kill. You work together."

"Kill," said the Kallathik. "You kill. You kill each other. You kill us."

Tarlain frowned. "What?"

"Here, in the mines, everywhere. We have seen and we have remembered. We have learned the way."

But that couldn't be right. If it was true, it had been kept quiet within the machinations of the Guilds responsible. Tarlain's mind was racing. How was he going to convince them of anything if it was really true?

"If this is true, if all of this is true," he said, "why are you talking to me? Why do you not take that spear you hold and drive it through my body?" He slapped his chest in emphasis. His heart was pounding in his ears. It could all end here, all of it.

The Kallathik shifted its grip as if considering. Tarlain spread his arms wide, giving the Kallathik a clear and open target. Again it shifted, and then it gave a deep, low growl, a sound Tarlain had never heard before. He waited, the moment dragging on for an eternity.

"There are those of my kind who would not hesitate," he said. Why do you hesitate?"

Silence.

"You said yourself that there are two types of my people. There's more than that. What you are doing is not right."

He slowly lowered his arms. "What do you want? What do your people want? We aren't going away. You said so yourself. I don't know why, but the Atavists want to rid this world of all who are not their kind. Maybe it's just some Atavists; I don't know. Our people are not all the same. Would you do this to your own kind?" He knew he was taking a risk with the argument -- he had no real knowledge of Kallathik history. None of them did.

Again there was the low growl. Another Kallathik echoed the sound, turning its head to look at Tarlain too. He was getting their attention.

"Our people have used your kind. These Atavists, these others are using you too."

Another of the Kallathik clacked and burred something, but he couldn't stop now.

"You have been treated wrongly. Our own people have been treated wrongly. Yes, it's a time for change. Everything is changing, but this is not the way. You have to believe me. I want this to stop as much as you do. There is a way. I think there is a better way. Think about the forests. Think about the trees."

Another head swiveled to look at him. A quick burr from another of the group, then another low growl. Tarlain had to find something that would make sense to them. He glanced around, seeking�then saw one of the ajura wood totems near the edge of the hillside.

"The sacred ajura grows. It stands in peace. But there are parasites that grow upon them, making some of them ill. You have seen it. These plants suck the life from the trees. They make them die. There are people who do the same thing. There are parasites and diseases amongst us. Do you kill all the trees to rid them of the parasites?" He had no idea if the logic of the analogy would make any sense to them. Again he slapped his chest. "Now! Here! I am here. I am one of them. Why do you not kill me?"

The Kallathik nearest him went still.

"There is another way. Listen to me. We can work together. Change will not be easy. Let us fix what should be fixed. If there are parasites, we will root them out. We will purge this world of the disease. If we must march on the Guilds, then march we must, but let us do this together. Let me show you that we can work together. Let me convince others of my kind to march with us. Let me show you. The miners, the farmers, others. We can do this. Give me that chance. I beg you." He could feel the passion washing inside him. His eyes were damp. The Kallathik were still.

Tarlain dropped his hands to his sides, a great weariness washing over him. There was no reaction to tell him that anything he'd said was having any real effect. He looked from broad unreadable face to broad unreadable face. Nothing.

He was just about to try and summon the energy for another attempt, when the lead Kallathik growled and quickly followed it with a high chattering sound and a succession of short clipped syllables.

As one, the four Kallathik went still. All around the valley, Kallathik went still.

Twenty-Nine

Using the multi-purpose hiking stick he carried with him -- a gift from one of the other workers -- Markis prodded at the small smoky fire. It was always hard to find enough to make a decent fire, and they burned with a half-hearted sluggish flame that did little to cut through the chill. At least it wasn't raining, and he could be thankful that the wind had died down. He tugged the cap lower over his forehead, trying to capture and retain some of his own warmth.

He looked around the rude camp, wondering what he was going to do next. He'd left his fellow travelers a few days back when news of