"That doesn't matter," said the Guildsman. "All you have to do is lead him to Darthan and look after him." The Guildsman dug inside one pocket and pulled out a purse. He hefted in one hand, showing its weight.
Markis's heart was pounding in his chest, and it was all he could do to keep his voice level, to keep the torrent of questions from tumbling from his lips.
"He don't look well," he said after a pause. "What's happened to him?"
"Leave me," croaked Aron. "They will take it out on you if you help me."
"What's he talking about?" asked Markis, still peering again into his father's face.
"That doesn't matter either," said the old man leading Aron Ka Vail. Markis noted his livery and recognized the marks of Technologists: Karryl Ky Menin's personal household. "There are just some of us," continued the old man, "who want to make sure he's looked after. Now, will you do it?"
Markis nodded and the old man tossed him the purse. "Take him to Darthan. Find Men Darnak's men. They'll know what to do. Treat him well. He deserves at least that," he said and turned away without another word. Markis watched him disappear across the fields into the gloom toward his estate.
Markis turned back to his father, the questions still tumbling in his head. Aron Ka Vail was an old man. Whatever ordeal he'd been through had taken its toll. Markis had no idea what revealing his identity might do. It was better not to risk it. Not yet, especially after all that had already passed.
"Here," he said, guiding Aron's hand to his walking stick. "Lean on this. Let me help you back to the fire."
Aron frowned, as if puzzling over something, but then a cough racked his frame, and he doubled over, leaning his weight on the staff. Markis rushed to place his hand on the old man's shoulder.
"Are you all right?" he said.
"No," said Aron. "I am not. I will never be all right again. Not after this." He coughed again. "The Prophet fills our lives with cruel jokes. See, how it works? My misfortune makes you better off."
"I don't..."
"If this hadn't happened to me, you wouldn't have this job."
Slowly the old man straightened, Markis's hand still on his shoulder. Aron reached out with one hand, pawing at the air, and then making contact with Markis's arm. He felt up the arm until he found his shoulder. Markis swallowed back his horror. It was suddenly clear. His father couldn't see. He bit his lip, struggling to maintain control of his voice.
"Come. This way. We'll get you to Darthan."
"Darthan!" Aron gave a hollow laugh. "No, boy. Just take me somewhere where I can die. I just need somewhere I can end this bloody misery in peace."
"No, master," said Markis. "I've been paid to take you to Darthan, and that's where we'll go." He applied gentle pressure to the old man's shoulder, steering him forward.
Aron took one hesitant step, then another, leaning his weight heavily on the walking stick.
"You know," said Aron as they made painful progress across the ground and up the base of the hill. "The Prophet knows how to play with us. It's a cruel joke. You remind me of someone. It's something in your voice." Again, he gave a short hard laugh. "The Prophet's just reminding me how well I treated my own. No better than this. No better than this. And now, when I can no longer take it back, I would give everything to be able to do so."
The old man stumbled, and Markis caught him. He placed an arm around his father's shoulder to help guide him up the hill.
"I'm sure it will be all right," he said gently. "Once we get to Darthan ?"
"Didn't you hear me, boy? Just take me somewhere where I can die in peace. The Prophet can't do any more. There's nothing left. Nothing."
"Come on," said Markis. "We'll look after you, that's for sure. I'm sorry I haven't even got no padder to take you there, but maybe we can find one. We'll get you there. You'll see."
He caught himself, but the last words had already left his lips. Would the old man see? Markis just didn't know. Aron Ka Vail seemed not to have noticed.
Thirty
Karin stepped into the broad reception room, seeing Jarid sitting waiting for her. He looked up as she entered, meeting her eyes and holding the look.
