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

step. "Come, Guildmaster. We should go."

Aron resisted the pull. "No," he said. "What has happened? Leannis, my old friend, what have they done to you?"

Just for an instant, Men Darnak stopped the wild swinging of his head, held himself steady, and fixed his gaze on the man who had spoken to him.

"This is justice," he said. "Can you not see this? Can you not see what happens when you bring these -- these things into the world? The Prophet? Ha! What is the Will of the Prophet, eh? Aron. I'm sorry. It's hard. You have to be patient with me. There is no order any more. That's what he said, what he used to say. That man. That priest. Maintaining the order of things leads to an ordered life. Empty words from an empty church. An empty life."

Men Darnak seemed to lose focus again, his gaze wandering away.

"Leannis," said Aron. "What can we do? How can we help?"

Men Darnak spun back. "Put a curse on all you have brought into this world, for they are tainted. Put a curse on them as they have cursed us." He laughed, throwing out his arms and tilting his face up to the sky. "We are worse than the beasts. Do you hear me? Prophet, where are you? Do you hear?"

Aron strained against Markis's restraining hand. "We must do something."

"What can we do, Sir? I be thinking that there's not so much we can do."

A shout came from nearby. Another group of men had just crested the hill to the right. They were dressed in livery that Markis did not recognize.

"There he is," said one, pointing down at them. They quickened their pace toward the group.

As they neared, another spoke. "We come from Tarlain Men Darnak with instructions to bring his father back with us."

The sound of his son's name brought Men Darnak upright. He stood straight, firm. "Tarlain?" he said. "Tarlain. Tarlain..." The words trailed off.

"Principal Men Darnak," said one of the men as they drew closer.

With a sudden laugh, the old man turned. The next instant he was dashing away across the valley, calling out behind him. "Tarlain, Tarlain, Tarlain!"

"Principal Men Darnak, wait!"

Both groups of men rushed after him, leaving Markis and Aron standing alone apart from two of the new group who had remained behind. Within moments, all the others had disappeared from view over an intervening rise. Their shouts could still be heard over the hills.

One of the other two men approached them shaking his head. "It's terrible to see what's happened to the old man," he said. "Who are you?"

"This be Guildmaster Aron Ka Vail," said Markis. "I am taking him to the camp of Tarlain Men Darnak."

The man nodded after a pause, taking in their appearance. It seemed that there was nothing that could surprise anyone any more. "The camp's back over that way," he said, gesturing back over his shoulder. "But you'd best be quick. They're getting ready to move. We should go after the others. Can you find your way?"

Markis nodded. The two remaining guildsmen headed off in the direction that Men Darnak had taken.

"What would you be wanting, Guildmaster?" said Markis.

Aron sighed deeply. "I thought to be able to find Leannis and offer him what little support I could. I fear the only thing that can help him now is the Prophet himself."

"So, what would you?" asked Markis again.

"Take me to the camp," said Aron. "Take me to the camp."

Markis took the Guildmaster's arm and started leading him in the direction that Tarlain's man had indicated.

Markis led his father slowly into the camp. Somewhere he would find someone to look after the old man, and then, then when the time was right, he would reveal himself. That time was not yet though. As they moved through the clusters of men and Kallathik, preparing or simply standing around, he watched with interest. Everything he knew about the Kallathik made this sudden organization and focus surprising. What was it that had spurred them to such action?

Over to one side, he noticed some more men wearing the colors he now recognized as those belonging to Tarlain Men Darnak. These were not your classic Guildsmen. They were a rough collection of people, workers, miners, others, obviously pulled together under Tarlain's name for a single common purpose. In his current garb, he looked just as much a part of the motley collection. That Tarlain had the power to draw such a group together spoke of deep feeling running through the people, feeling he could have hardly imagined existed.

"I had no idea," he said to himself.

"What? Idea of what?" said Aron.

Markis realized he had voiced the thought aloud and he grimaced.

"Oh, it be nothing, Guildmaster," he said. "There's just so many of them."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, there's Kallathik here, and lots of them, and miners and others. They must have come from miles around to be here."

The old man grunted, seemed to think about this for a moment, then nodded. He stopped and doubled as a series of coughs shook his frame. "Where are we going?" he asked, finally, when he had regained his breath.

"I am going to try and find Tarlain Men Darnak, Guildmaster. If he's here, he'll know what to do."

As they neared the group of Tarlain's men, they got little more than curious glances. Everyone was a stranger, except for those who had come here together in their own smaller groups, and they clustered in small gatherings all around the camp. A couple of Tarlain's men looked up as the pair approached.

"I am looking for Tarlain Men Darnak," said Markis.

One of the men nodded and pointed back behind him. "Try that tent over there.

He thanked the man and led his father over in that direction. Two men stood in front of the tent and they stepped in front to block their passage.

"Who are you?" asked one, looking Aron Ka Vail and Markis up and down suspiciously.

"This is Guildmaster Ka Vail," said Markis. "He has come to see Tarlain Men Darnak."

"Guildmaster?" said the other. "Well, we're honored, I'm sure. He doesn't look like any Guildmaster to me."

Markis sighed. "Is Tarlain Men Darnak here? We saw his father a few minutes ago. Nothing looks the same any more, does it?"

The man who had spoken looked dubious. It was clear he wasn't going to move. Markis restrained the urge to yell at the man get out of their way. He wasn't used to people refusing him. He was just about to start to reason with him, when a familiar face poked out from the tent behind them.

"What is this?" said Tarlain Men Darnak. He saw the two of them standing there and stepped fully out of the tent. "Guildmaster Ka Vail! What has happened?" He strode rapidly toward them, pushing past his men. The shock was evident on his face. He grasped the old man by the shoulders, looking carefully at his face.

"What have they done to you?" he said, the shock turning to anger. "Who has done this?"

He turned to Markis. "I know you," he said. "You're Markis. What has happened to your father? What have they done?"

"M-Markis?" Aron said haltingly, his sightless face turning toward him. He thrust out a hand, seeking support. "Markis? No. It can't be..."

"Come," said Tarlain. "Come inside and tell me what's happened."

Tarlain sat at one end of the large tent, the others arrayed around the sides. They had sent for the Atavist woman healer -- her name was Alise -- to look at his father. She had done what little she could, but her expression had been grim. With her had appeared another surprise -- Sandon Yl Aris. For some reason, he was dressed in Tarlain's colors, and he now sported a neatly trimmed beard. He'd done something to his skin, as well. It was strangely dark. Whatever had happened to him in the intervening time had marked him in other ways too. A deep scar ran across one cheek and across his nose. Markis watched him with interest as the discussions proceeded. He had not expected to see the Principal's chief information man here, right in the midst of the Kallathik camp. Things were aligning in strange ways, in a fashion that he could barely have imagined. And then there was the Principal himself. What had happened to him? He put a cap on his speculations and turned his attention back to the discussions.

"So, we can presume that Ky Menin and Karin are working together. Wherever Karin is, then Yosset is bound to follow. How much support can you muster in Primary Production?" It was Tarlain speaking.

Aron shook his head. "Jarid is there. I can only think that he has enough to rally the rest of Primary Production. You know as well as I do that our Guild members have been strong traditionalists. They're bound to support the current order, no matter what shape that may be."

Another bout of coughing cut short anything else he was going to say. Markis made to rise, to go to his father, but the Atavist woman waved him down. She put an arm around the old man's shoulders, speaking to him quietly. He nodded slowly in response. Markis sat back down.

"Well, we have no choice," said Tarlain. "We must act quickly before they have a chance to prepare properly. There's nothing we can do now to make it any better. They won't expect everything we can throw at them."

"But what of the Church?" said Yl Aris.

"The Church is with us," said Tarlain. "Along with the Atavist community. With the miners and the Kallathik, we have more than they can possibly deal with. There are bound to be casualties, and I wish there was some peaceful way to resolve this, but we no longer have any choice. We've seen what they're prepared to do."

Markis was impressed with what he was seeing. Tarlain Men Darnak spoke with strength and authority. There was no hesitation in his words or his manner. Were it not for tradition, thought Markis, he would be a fitting figure to inherit the mantle of Principal. It was hardly the boy he remembered from the Principate gatherings he had attended over the years.

"So when, Tarlain?" said Yl Aris. "When do you plan to act?" Even Yl Aris was deferring to Tarlain's authority.

Any answer was cut short by a commotion outside the tent. All heads turned to face the noise. Two men burst through the tent flaps, dragging another between them. Tarlain stood.

"Edvin," he said. "Well, fate works in very strange ways. Hold him there."

Tarlain advanced on the man, a hard expression on his face. "Where did you find him?"

"He was found about three miles from here. He was carrying this." The man who spoke held up a sealed message tube.

"So, how is my darling sister?" said Tarlain. "And what is that? Is that a message for me?"

In response, Edvin tried to shake free of the grip of his captors. "I'm not telling you anything."

"Edvin?" Aron pushed himself to his feet. Alise rose with him, holding him with one hand, her other arm still around his shoulders.

Edvin seemed to notice the tent's other occupants for the first time. "Why aren't you dead, old man?" he spat. He pulled against the restraining hands. "They should have killed you while they had the chance."

Tarlain's arm flashed out, and he struck Edvin across the face with a resounding slap. "That's enough," he hissed.

Edvin drew back, glaring. He scanned the rest of the assembled faces. "You're all here, aren't you?" he said. "All of you.