"No, but it was a duty that went beyond duty, Sandon. You have been completely faithful to that. I understand how beliefs can motivate you to do things, but what I've seen goes further than that."
"Tarlain, there is no need..."
"You're wrong, Yl Aris. There is a need. Despite everything, I want to thank you for what you've done for the old man. I understand now that everything you've done in the past, every subterfuge, every underhand manipulation, all of it was done in good faith in support of the Principal and his aims for the Guilds. It's taken me a long time to see that and I apologize that I did not see it sooner."
Sandon bit his lip. Tarlain looked away again, his gaze fixed in the middle distance.
A slight cough from the tent's entrance interrupted the moment. Alise stood just inside the tent flaps, waiting for their attention.
"Sandon," she said. "I think the old man is calm enough within himself to talk. Would you like me to bring him here?"
Tarlain stood. "Yes, Alise. Please."
A few minutes later, she led Leannis Men Darnak into the tent. He had been cleaned up a little. Fresh white robes hung from his skeletal frame. His hair hung lankly about his head, but it had been washed and combed. He looked confusedly about the tent's interior.
"Why do you take me to this place of death?" he asked, querulously.
"Father," said Tarlain, taking a step forward.
"Tarlain?" Men Darnak peered through the gloom.
"Yes, Father."
"Tarlain? Then I must be dead. I had a son called Tarlain, but he's gone."
"I am not gone, Father. I'm here."
The old man shook his head. "No, no. A long time ago. A long, long time ago. Let me look at his spirit." He took three stumbling steps forward and held out his arms. "You look like my son, but I have no children any more. They are all gone."
Sandon stood. "Principal," he said. "You are here with your son. We are all here. You have not yet passed from this life."
Men Darnak frowned. "Yl Aris? You too? But you are gone as well. Everyone is gone. This must be the afterlife. The Prophet has taken me." He looked around the tent. "Such a grim place for an afterlife don't you think?"
"This is no afterlife," said Tarlain. "Enough of this nonsense from the Church, Father. The priest's not here." He placed his hands on his father's shoulders. "You are here now. Here with us."
"And what of Kovaar?" said Men Darnak. "He must still be alive. That's why he's not here. Yes. We're dead and he's still alive." He frowned and nodded to himself, following his own chain of logic down whatever path it was taking.
"Kovaar is off across the camp talking to the Atavists, Principal." Sandon felt hollow, watching the man to whom he had devoted so much of his life reduced to this. He felt hollow and helpless. He could see the feeling echoed on Tarlain's face.
Men Darnak lifted a hesitant hand to his son's cheek. A tear spilled from one eye. "I'm sorry, Tarlain. I'm so sorry." His hand trembled as he slowly traced the shape of Tarlain's face. Then his attention was gone.
Tarlain turned away, his own eyes brimming with moisture. "Take him somewhere safe, Alise," he said quietly. "Make sure he's comfortable. Please ... please, look after him." His voice caught with the last request.
After Alise had withdrawn, leading the old man, Tarlain turned back to Sandon. "We have to make sure he's safe when we start. We can do that much at least."
Sandon returned Tarlain's imploring look, suddenly without any words. He felt powerless, powerless to do a thing, and that feeling gave him nothing but shame. He looked away, no longer able to meet the young man's gaze
#.
Tarlain scanned the hillsides and the surrounding landscape, looking down over the clustered Storm Season holdings of the Guild dignitaries. He swallowed, knowing what was about to happen, how much of this was against everything he'd been brought up to respect and honor. He had seen what the Kallathik could do. Was this right? None of it was right any more. He'd seen what had happened to his father and now what they'd done to Aron Ka Vail too.
