They traveled in silence from that point, Sandon lost in his own thoughts. He barely registered the streets, the houses, the buildings they passed on the way to their destination. He found it hard to believe that he could have been aware of the Atavists for so long -- they had been a constant presence ever since he could remember -- and yet know so little about them. Of course there was the perpetual stream of messages that they tried to deliver: technology was bad; the state of their existence on Aldaban was a punishment for reliance upon technology for their existence; the only true way to enlightenment was to return to a rudimentary lifestyle, following the original teachings of the Prophet as handed down from the First Families. According to what they preached, Storm Season was nothing more than a revealing message sent by the Prophet to show them all the true way. The disastrous first landing of the colony ships was simply another. Sandon, of course, dismissed these beliefs as superstitious nonsense. He wondered how they could possibly justify that the reason for their very existence was the exact same colony ships that they condemned as part of technology's panoply of evil.
Badrae spoke again, drawing him back from his speculations. "We are almost there."
Sandon looked around, wondering exactly where 'there' was. They were in a section of the city outskirts that he was not very familiar with. This was a poorer neighborhood, the houses and buildings showing the signs of disrepair. Here and there lay the tumbled ruins of squat buildings demolished by previous quake activity. A group of children clambered over the debris of one such, digging through the stones and probing and prodding with sticks. Sandon wondered briefly how long it had been since the building had fallen. Could it have been a casualty of the latest quake? Were the children playing, or foraging? He had no way of knowing, and the pounding in his head was forestalling any true speculation.
These, the fringes of Yarik city, stretched up and back to the rock strewn heights of the plateau upon which the capital rested. The scant vegetation struggled for its existence here, away from the fertile plains below. There was no proper cause for any from the city to really venture out this way. Dry ground, desolation, and the occasional herder held no real attraction for Yarik's population, the true inhabitants of the nexus of Aldaban's political and commercial life.
They passed the last small house on the outskirts and headed along a narrow, poorly maintained road. Stunted trees and spiny bushes sprouted from the rocky ground at either side. The dull throbbing worked inside his head, the cut across his face pulsed hotly, and his thoughts were more sluggish, clouded. The blow he'd taken in the crash was having its effects. Still the Atavists walked on in silence.
They climbed a slight rise, and as the ground dropped away again, a cluster of tents and wagons appeared. In and amongst them, moved groups of people dressed in Atavist garb, more than Sandon had ever seen gathered in one place before. Despite the pounding in his head, despite the queasy feeling sitting in the depths of his stomach, his mouth hung stupidly open. So many of them. He wondered how long they'd been here, and how many more such groups existed alongside major cities across the land, virtually unnoticed by the rest of the population.
"Here we are. Welcome to our family," said Badrae. "Please feel easy amongst us and be welcome."
"Be welcome," said the other two in unison.
"Um, thank you," said Sandon, not knowing quite what else to say. It was somehow awkward. Badrae had said that they were joining this group of theirs for the first time, and yet they bade him welcome to it. He decided there was little else to do but wait and see. More speculation would only serve to confuse things further.
Seven
Tarlain felt he was finally ready. All that he needed for now was packed. The rest could be acquired, one way or another throughout the weeks to come, or however long it might take. His father had merely banned him from the Principate; he still had access to the resources of the Guild of Welfare, and he was sure Karnav Din Baltir would assist him; as long as the Guildmaster hadn't been turned, but he simply couldn't believe it of his old friend and mentor.
