And then there was Tarlain. He had always been a good boy. A little naïve, a little idealistic, but that came with youth. You grew out of that, in time. He had thought that sending him away was an act of responsibility, that making him truly work for his position would have hardened him, given him the strength he would eventually need to play in the machinations of the Guilds. Perhaps he had been too harsh. And now there was nothing for it. Tarlain was gone, he knew not where, Karin had thrown him to Aldaban's unforgiving landscape, and Roge was somewhere. Roge was somewhere. Roge was where? He had to talk to his eldest son and find out what was happening. Where was Yl Aris when he needed him? Sandon would have helped. But he had?he had?what had he done?
"Principal!" The shout came from over one of the slight hills behind him, far away, distorted by the wind, but it was definitely someone calling for him. He knew the voice. It was ... it was ... Priest. Kovaar. Witness Kovaar was looking for him.
"Principal!" the shout came again.
He sat where he was, looking down at the patchy ground, feeling the padder shift beneath him. Let them find him. Or perhaps it wasn't a 'them' after all. He shook his head. Kovaar. What did he want?
"Principal Men Darnak!"
He looked back over his shoulder. There, silhouetted on the hilltop was the Priest's figure astride his padder. Behind him, breaking through the clouds, the Twins' merged disks, struggling to force their way through the heavy blackness that roiled about them. Shafts of ruddy light broke through, disappeared, and broke through again, framing the solitary figure atop the hill with a continuously changing pattern of red and orange light. The Priest's robes stirred in the wind, adding to the unreality of the picture, shifting light, shifting shadow, the world turning around him.
"There you are. Stay there, Principal. I will come to you."
The Priest's reedy voice drifted and whipped away. Men Darnak snorted and turned away. Yes, let him come.
Kovaar cantered down the hill and drew his mount up beside.
"Principal," he said, a tone of admonition in the voice. "Where did you think you were going?"
"Did you not hear me? I'm looking for Roge."
"But what made you think you would find him out here? There's nothing here, Principal. Roge will have returned to his estates, or perhaps gone to Karin's. Would it not have been better to find out where he'd gone before charging out into the weather, especially so close to the end of the day. It will become dark soon, and I am sure the Prophet would not will you to be out here in this weather."
Men Darnak turned to face him. "So, you know the Prophet's will now, do you, Priest? You speak for the Prophet, do you? And I suppose you can tell me where my son is too. Perhaps you can explain to me his mind as well?"
Kovaar shook his head. "There is no point, Principal. You have already seen what's happened with your daughter. Why would you expect the others to be any different?"
Men Darnak sighed heavily. "I expect something. Something. I don't know what I expect." He looked up at the sky. The weight was growing in him, building darkly like the cloud mass above. He looked back at Kovaar. Reaching out with one hand, he grasped a handful of the Priest's robes. "You're a man of the Prophet, Kovaar. Tell me. Tell me what to do. Tell me what the Prophet wills. Let Him make this right."
Kovaar reached up and gently removed his hand. "It is not our place to demand of the Prophet. He guides us. He shows us the way. You can listen to his wisdom, deep inside. His will shapes things into what they must be."
"Pfah! No, no more. Damn you Priest. Where is Roge? We have to find Roge." He turned away, scanning the empty hills as if to find his eldest son sitting waiting for him. Kovaar sat watching him and he turned back to face him. "Damn you, Priest."
He dug his heels in and whipped the reins savagely. He headed the padder toward the hillside in front, urging it faster.
"Principal, wait!" yelled Kovaar behind him.
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