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."
