Binary Part 2

"Then you can go, dammit!" shouted Men Darnak. "I will not have you upsetting the transition." He held his hands clutched tightly in front of him. Then he seemed to suddenly regain his composure. "Just get out," he said quietly. "Go, Tarlain. Just go, before I say something I'll regret."

"Princ.i.p.al, don't you think we should --?" Sandon said.

Men Darnak cut him off with a wave of his hand. "Enough, Yl Aris!"

"But Princ.i.p.al..." said Witness Kovaar.

Men Darnak whirled on him. "No, Priest!" He turned back to face his son.

Tarlain stood where he was, simply glaring back at his father.

Men Darnak stared back in disbelief. "And still you would defy me, boy. Then you really can go, d.a.m.n you. Leave! I forbid you to have anything to do with the duties of the Princ.i.p.ate. You can take up your tenure with House Din Baltir and the Guild of Welfare, if the Guildmaster will still have you. If you want to continue following your stupid ideals, then you can do so in Welfare, but you will have no dealings with the Princ.i.p.ate. None!"

Their gazes locked for what seemed an eternity, and then Tarlain turned on his heel and strode from the chamber, slamming the door behind him. Men Darnak gave a wordless growl from deep within his chest.

Witness Kovaar cleared his throat again. "Princ.i.p.al, do you think that's wise? Would it not be better to have the full support of Welfare for Roge's transition? Tarlain would -- "

"Tarlain would what? And you as well? Isn't it sufficient that my youngest son would attempt to counsel me?" hissed Men Darnak. "Enough, Priest." He moved back behind the desk, and sat heavily. "Fetch Din Baltir, Sandon. I have to be sure that this isn't coming from him. Right now I need to be a.s.sured of his support. With Storm Season upon us, we're going to need everything we can get from Welfare."

Sandon quickly turned to do as he was told. It would do no good to keep Men Darnak waiting just now. As usual, despite the emotion, the old man seemed to understand exactly what was needed. As he slipped out the door, he saw Kovaar bending over, talking quietly. He pulled the door closed behind him, narrowing his eyes at the thought of the priest's interference. Whatever Witness Kovaar was saying, it could do absolutely nothing to help the situation. Nothing.

He wasted no time making his way into the hall where the crowd still swirled, gla.s.ses clutched in their hands as they were topped up by an endless supply of functionaries who appeared as soon as the contents of a single gla.s.s started to diminish. He paused for a moment in the doorway, attempting to regain his composure, looking for some sign of Tarlain, but the boy was nowhere to be seen. He quickly spotted Din Baltir standing alone, looking thoughtfully at his gla.s.s. Sandon cut through the crowd and stepped in front of the Guildmaster, smiled, tilted his head and reached up to place a hand on the man's upper arm.

"A quiet word, Guildmaster Din Baltir. Are you enjoying the celebrations?

A frown flickered across the man's face. "Why yes, Yl Aris. Thank you."

"Ahh, I'm glad. Actually, if you're not too busy, the Princ.i.p.al would like to spend a few moments with you in private."

Karnav Din Baltir's frown deepened. He swallowed and looked nervously about. "You're sure?"

"Of course I'm sure, Guildmaster. If you'd follow me, please."

Din Baltir cleared his throat, grimaced and placed his gla.s.s on a pa.s.sing tray. "All right, if I must," he said. Sandon led the way through the crowd.

Men Darnak barely looked up as they entered. He gestured for Din Baltir to take one of the three chairs arrayed in front of his desk and waited until the Guildmaster had settled comfortably.

"Guildmaster Din Baltir. What can you tell me about this proposed action against Roge?"

Din Baltir paled. "Why, Princ.i.p.al. What proposed action?"

"I have just spoken with Tarlain."

"B-but Tarlain said nothing about acting against Roge. I don't see how -- "

"I have just talked to the boy myself, Din Baltir. Would you deny it?"

"Princ.i.p.al, you know your son. The young man's an idealist. Not a bad thing in one so young. Especially with the work that we do in Welfare. It's an important attribute. But consider... I would not take the things he says too seriously."

"And what would you suggest I do?"

"Why, these things pa.s.s with time. He'll soon learn of the realities of the world. Get him busy with the Guild, with the Princ.i.p.ate and he'll have other things to worry about than any concern about Roge and what he's doing."

"So you admit it!" There was a gleam of victory in Men Darnak's eyes.

"I admit nothing, Princ.i.p.al. I admit nothing more than idle talk. I have children of my own. The boy's your son. You should know his nature."

Men Darnak leaned forward. "And now you presume to tell me what I should and shouldn't know about my children."

Din Baltir glanced nervously around the room, seeking some sort of support, but finding none. He finally looked back at Men Darnak.

The Princ.i.p.al fixed him with his steely gaze. "Well, what if I told you that Tarlain has no further function within the Princ.i.p.ate? How would you like that?" He sat back looking as if he'd just won some major point. "Does that surprise you, Din Baltir? I would think that Welfare might want to reconsider its position regarding Tarlain Men Darnak."

Din Baltir's shoulders slumped. He gave Witness Kovaar a pleading look.

"Princ.i.p.al..." said Kovaar.

"What!"

"What the Guildmaster says is reasonable. The boy is young. It may be not a bad thing that one of such idealism is a.s.sociated with Welfare."

"So that he can stay around, waiting to seize the opportunity to work against everything I have set in place? Tradition guarantees Roge his place. I will not have Tarlain attempting to undermine that. Ignoring the traditions so blatantly would do nothing to ease the change."

"But, Princ.i.p.al -- "

"What is it, priest? Again? Or perhaps there's collusion between the Church and the Atavists. Or might it be the Kallathik themselves? What exactly is it, Witness Kovaar? Everything's perfectly all right as long as a Men Darnak is in power -- is that it?"

Sandon frowned. What was the Princ.i.p.al getting at?

"Princ.i.p.al, I -- "

"Enough," snapped Men Darnak. He turned back to address the Guildmaster. "I don't know what this has to do with the Kallathik, but you would be wise to consider your position carefully, Karnav Din Baltir."

The Guildmaster's mouth was set in a thin line. "It appears that I must, Princ.i.p.al," he said quietly.

"That's all, Guildmaster," said Men Darnak. Din Baltir rose, looked quickly at Kovaar, glanced over to where Sandon stood, and then dropped his gaze. He nodded once and then left, closing the door quietly behind him.

Men Darnak rubbed his hands together. "Now that that's done with, we can return to the celebrations," he said.

Sandon cleared his throat. "Princ.i.p.al," he said. "I urge you to reconsider. The implications of -- "

Men Darnak turned on him slowly, fixing him with an icy blue stare. His eyes were full of cold glinting fire. "You would question me too, Yl Aris? What is this? Does every single person in this place think I'm incapable of making decisions any more?"

"I just believe -- "

"You believe what?"

Sandon swallowed before speaking. "Princ.i.p.al, I think you might want to reconsider."

"No, d.a.m.n you," said Men Darnak, slamming his hand on the desk. "I've had enough. I will not be questioned by you, either. What, are you in league with the boy too? Is that it?"

"Princ.i.p.al, I -- "

"That's it, isn't it? You. You and the boy are plotting together. Then dammit, Yl Aris, you can go as well. Go with him, if you want. Go and be with the boy. That's it. I don't want to see you again." He sliced his hand through the air in emphasis. "Finished."

"But, Princ.i.p.al -- "

Men Darnak had already stood, crossed the room and flung the door wide. He was gone, down the pa.s.sageway back to the Hall before Sandon could utter another word. His mouth hanging stupidly open, Sandon stared at the open doorway.

Five.

Tarlain looked around his simple room running an array of choices through his head. The anger was gone now. It had faded, changed, transforming into something more like concern. As he performed the mental inventory of his possessions, details and memories washed up to fill his thoughts. There were memories here aplenty: the souvenirs gathered on various trips; his books; a painting of the twin suns he'd done during his artistic phase. He remembered his father leaning over his shoulder, offering advice as he put the finis.h.i.+ng touches on the work. A deep sigh came unbidden from within. None of it mattered any more. None of it.

He'd noticed a change in the old man over the past few months. He had become more distant, more removed, locked up in his own thoughts and political machinations seemingly without any more time for his children. Over the years Leannis Men Darnak had been a caring, gentle father, always eager to take time from the affairs of the Princ.i.p.ate to wile away the time with them, guiding, listening to their dreams, telling them stories. Tarlain supposed there really was a time when you grew beyond that, but the distance he felt now was different, strange. It was almost as if something had stepped between them, blocking the man he knew from clear sight, obscuring the light and turning the memory into something darker. There was another thing that worried him; his father had always been volatile, but this was different, something not quite rational, almost...unbalanced.

Tarlain sighed again. He wasn't sure where he would go, but go he must. If he was to achieve anything, he had to get out from under the watchful gaze of both Roge and his father's network of informants. Particularly that Sandon Yl Aris. The man was everywhere, listening, observing, smiling, taking note. He had no doubt it was Yl Aris who had reported his discussion with Din Baltir. Tarlain hadn't even noticed the man's presence. He really should have known better than to speak openly at a public gathering, but the damage was done now and there was certainly no taking it back.

Wherever he wound up, he knew he could maintain his contact with Karnav Din Baltir. The Guildmaster was sympathetic to many of the ideas for change that Tarlain had discussed with him long into the night. Welfare was the ideal place to promote that change, but it was going to be much harder now with Roge having been ceded the reins of power. It only remained to work out how much of that power was really his. His elder brother had always cared for little but himself. As eldest son, as successor, he had been molded to expect nothing less than what he, Roge Men Darnak, wanted, whether it was the hunting trips, or the large rowdy parties he was so fond of. Let alone the affairs of the Princ.i.p.ate.

Tarlain grimaced. In the past, his father at least would listen to reason. His years of controlling the Guilds, of experiencing what a wrong choice could mean, had made him more open -- or had done until recently. Roge, on the other hand, had none of the same sense born of experience; he was headstrong and capricious, and the worst thing was, his father would not hear a word against him.

A chime at his door brought Tarlain back to the moment. He glanced in a nearby mirror making sure his features betrayed nothing of the thoughts and emotions working inside his head. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath to further compose himself before speaking.

"Enter," he said wondering who might have taken the trouble to follow him to his chambers. If it was that Yl Aris...

His sister slid in the door and closed it behind her. "Tarlain, what happened? I just heard."

He waved a hand. "Nothing. It doesn't matter."

"But Yosset said that father had just -- "

"What? Thrown me out? Beaten me with a stick? d.a.m.ned me for all time? What?" Tarlain spat the words. He had no love for Karin's husband, and that the news had come to her via his lips made matters no better.

Karin looked at him with a frown. "There's no real need for that, Tarlain. What actually happened? I came here because I wanted to hear it from you."

He returned her look warily. As the middle child, Karin had always played both sides of their relations.h.i.+ps to her advantage. She always seemed to know which one of the other two children to side with. Reluctantly deciding that he could trust her for now, he sat with a sigh and told her what had happened.

"But that's ridiculous," she said, frowning again. "Is it true? Did you really say those things? And who told him anyway?"

"Not that it matters, but most likely it was Yl Aris. You can't say anything when he's in the same room without it getting back to Father. You know that. And as to whether I said them...it was just talk, wasn't it?" He shrugged. "As for acting against Roge, well that's just stupid, isn't it? As if I'd even consider it."

"Oh, Tarlain. Can't you see what you've done?"

"No. What have I done other than simply have a conversation with someone? You tell me, Karin."

"Now. Right now," she said, exasperation in her tone. "Together, you, me and Roge, we could have had everything we wanted. You know what happens in Storm Season. With everything falling apart, we could have picked up the pieces and made things work how we wanted them to. We could put everything back together to work for us. For us, Tarlain. Don't you see what that means? We've been waiting too long for this, and working together...each one of us in the major Guilds..." She shook her head. "You've just made everything so much harder. You have to talk to him. You have to talk to Father and make it right again. Roge needs us. We need each other."

Tarlain looked up at her, barely able to conceal the slight narrowing of his eyes that would betray how he felt. Karin was only worried about her own position within the Princ.i.p.ate. He should have expected little else. Fine. Let her believe he was willing to go along with whatever she suggested. He'd pretended to be easily led by her more than once in the past. And of course, she'd said absolutely nothing about how their father had encouraged them, helped to position them. It was just like Karin not to see or acknowledge his gentle guidance.

He fought to keep his voice even. "But you've seen how he is lately. What am I supposed to say? He virtually threw me out. It's not that easy."

She crossed and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You've always had a special place in his affection. I'm sure you can get past this. We really need you to talk to him, Tarlain. Will you do that for me?" She gave his shoulder a slight squeeze.

Tarlain slipped from beneath her touch and stood, crossing the room to look out the window. "I don't know. It's really not that easy."

"Of course it is," she said, walking over to stand behind him. "With news of the announcement starting to spread, he won't be going very far. He'll be locked away somewhere, avoiding the fuss. Go and see him in his chambers. Talk to him. Try and get him alone. He'll talk to you."

"I'm not sure that he will." Tarlain looked out over the squat block buildings stretching down the hill from the Princ.i.p.al's residence. The even structures broken into tidy lines stepped down the slope, the pattern only broken by the larger, blockier shape of the nearby Church of the Prophet. Perhaps he should do what Karin suggested after all. It couldn't hurt. They had both spoken in anger. Everyone had been tense leading up to the announcement, and afterward the hangover of that tension had remained, coloring the way they all reacted. Now that the gathering was over, that everything had calmed down a little, his father might actually be more willing to listen.

Karin still stood behind him, waiting for a response. "I'll see what I can do," he said without turning around. She patted him on the shoulder and gave a brief sound of approval. She hovered there behind him for a moment more, then, when it was clear he wasn't going to say anything else, said goodbye and slipped from the room. He stood staring out of the window, considering for several minutes after she had left.

Tarlain crossed the vast paved courtyard, hurrying toward the steps. Most of the groundcars had long since departed, carrying their pa.s.sengers, and their messages back to the various Guilds. The square was unusually still. One or two tourists from far-off towns wandered past, gawping at the buildings, but most leisure travel had already been curtailed. Storm Season was no time to be far from home. The Princ.i.p.al's announcement had effectively cleared the center of Yarik, sweeping away everything that normally marked the flurry of preparation that came as precursor to the Minor Twin's true ascendance. With the lesser sun's deep orange light painting everything with a somber russet wash, the square felt eerie, like some painting rather than the center of a thriving city. Tarlain was filled with the sense of its unreality.

He headed straight for the Princ.i.p.al's chambers, nearly colliding with a functionary as he turned a corner into the long corridor. The man barely acknowledged Tarlain's apology and hurried off about his business. That was a good sign. Apparently, there had been no general announcement about his status yet. Perhaps Karin was right and there really was time. He took a deep breath, flung the large door wide and stepped into his father's offices.

Sitting behind the broad desk was the person he least expected to see, especially not engaged in peering at his father's screen. Witness Kovaar looked up at the unexpected entry, Tarlain's own surprise reflected on his gaunt features.

"Tarlain, what are you doing here?" He quickly shut down the display, trying to make the action as un.o.btrusive as possible, and then folded his hands in front of him. "Can I help you?"

"Where's Father?"

"He's in consultation with Roge. They've asked not to be disturbed," said the priest.

"Well, where are they? I need to talk to him."

"The Princ.i.p.al has made his wishes quite plain. If you would like me to relay a message to him..."

"No. I don't want you to relay a message to him. I want to see him. Now where is he?"

Kovaar stared at him impa.s.sively across the table, his features unreadable.

"Fine. If you won't tell me..." Tarlain crossed the room heading for his father's private library and threw open the door. The room was dark. Tarlain strode across to the other side heading for the door where the sleeping quarters lay, noting with annoyance the slightest hint of a smirk on the priest's face. His father's private chambers were empty too.

"Dammit, Priest. Where have they gone?" He walked quickly back to the desk.

Kovaar slowly shook his head. "Princ.i.p.al Men Darnak made his intentions quite clear. They are currently involved in the business of the Princ.i.p.ate. As your father told you, you have no further interest in those matters."