Tarlain crossed the vast paved courtyard, hurrying toward the steps. Most of the groundcars had long since departed, carrying their passengers, 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 Principal'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 Principal'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 unobtrusive 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 Principal 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 impassively 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. "Principal Men Darnak made his intentions quite clear. They are currently involved in the business of the Principate. As your father told you, you have no further interest in those matters."
Tarlain could barely believe what he was hearing. With difficulty, he restrained his urge to step around the edge of the broad table and grab a fistful of Witness Kovaar's robes. By what right...? He fought for calm. Taking it out on the priest wasn't going to achieve anything.
"Would you please convey a message to my father? I need to speak to him. I will wait here in his chambers until he's ready to see me and his business with Roge is done." Kovaar sat where he was, waiting. "Now!"
Taking his time, Kovaar got to his feet. He stared blankly at Tarlain for a moment or two, and then walked unhurriedly out the door, closing it quietly behind him. It was a full half hour before he returned and by then, Tarlain had barely managed to regain some of his composure.
"I gave him the message as you asked," said Witness Kovaar.
"And?"
Kovaar held his hands outstretched with a shrug, and then proceeded to take up his place behind the desk. He said nothing further.
