Sandon found himself liking the young man, his simple honesty, and he wove him tales of the Atavist lifestyle, even of his time with Milana and Benjo in the bar in Bortruz and how their easy charity had shown them to be the good folk they were. He spoke of the miners too -- how beneath their grime-streaked exteriors, despite the hardships they faced, that they too were simple, honest folk. He had learned much in his time in the bar from the snatches of conversation and the passing arguments. Through it all, Fran listened, always eager, always wanting more. It did more than wile away the time.
As the party headed inland from the river's course, the landscape slowly changed. The broad flatness gave way to slowly undulating hills, and then croplands. The occasional homesteading stood off in the distance, surrounded by expansive fields, now with the primary thrusting shoots of root crops turning the soil and thrusting in long lines, questing for the paltry light from the dancing Twins above. Sandon could see their struggle, see the long, long weeks and months of growth, only to be torn rudely from the soil, stacked and stored in dank cellars all across the countryside.
Gradually, the seasonal fields gave way to more traditional croplands, the grain fields now for the most part lying fallow. His own estates would look like these. Sandon's own holdings could not be too far off. He toyed with his beard as he wondered what had happened to them now. He imagined the estates were still being tended, still functioning, but to whom did they belong? Some distant nephew or cousin would have done well out of Sandon's disappearance, for enough time had passed that clear assumptions would have been already made.
Two days out from their destination, a realization came to Sandon with Leannis Men Darnak's appearance riding in company with Witness Kovaar at the party's head. He noted with great interest that there seemed to be something more infusing the Principal's carriage; he was more erect in his saddle, more assured in his stance; something of the old spark and presence seemed to be back. The Principal looked about himself with an alertness missing over the last few weeks. So, what was it that had brought Men Darnak back to life? There was something plucking at Sandon's memory, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. When he could stand the frustration no more, he headed his padder in Fran's direction, having spied him trudging beside a wagon, keeping an eye on the wheels as he walked.
"Fran," he said.
The young man tore his gaze from the revolving wheels and looked up. "Yes, Tchardo, what is it? I think I was going mad here watching this wheel going round and round."
Sandon smiled. "Do you know where we're headed?"
"Sure. It's the Men Darnak daughter's holdings. Karin. She and her husband live here."
That was it! That was why the place looked so familiar. These farmlands used to belong to the Principal himself before he had ceded ownership to his daughter. Sandon found it interesting that Fran, like so many others spoke of Karin first and Yosset Clier more as an afterthought. Well, that was the way of it, wasn't it? So, it was plain; Men Darnak had not managed to see his youngest child, but he was returning to the middle one.
"But from what I hear, Tchardo, the Principal received less than a warm welcome last time he visited his daughter," said Fran.
"How do you mean?"
"The way I hear it, she virtually threw him out." Fran shook his head. "Sent him packing. He used this trip to the mines as an excuse. Couldn't deal with the way she'd treated him so went off to do something else."
"Truly?" said Sandon.
Fran nodded gravely. "I hear she's a really scary woman."
Well, Fran had that much right. Just sometimes, he was grateful that he'd never been blessed with children, but then his marriage to the Principate had seen to that. He thanked Fran and moved back to his position in the procession, trying to slot the information into place.
Two days more and they entered the grounds of Yosset Clier's estates. After the weeks of travel, and the marks of that travel, Sandon was barely concerned about discovery. If everything he'd heard about Men Darnak's behavior since his own dismissal, everything he'd seen since joining the party was true, then no one was going to be very surprised that the old Principal had acquired a wandering Atavist as a member of his ragtag group. Sandon was actually looking forward to this visit. He expected it was going to be very revealing.
