Men Darnak grabbed for her wrist, but she wrenched it free. "Don't even try it," she hissed. With one last flash of her eyes, she spun on her heel and strode from the room, slamming the door behind her.
Leannis Men Darnak was left standing in the room's center, looking down at his open palms. Sandon could already see the tears starting to well in his eyes.
The old man turned, looking directly at Sandon. "You," he said. "You go to Roge. You tell him I'm coming." His face was white as a sheet.
"But, Principal..." said Sandon.
"Just do it."
"Can I wait at least until the morning?"
"You will leave now!"
"As the Prophet wills," said Sandon, spreading his hands and glancing at Kovaar who was staring at him with a strange expression. There would be no further argument.
He headed for the stables and then took his time getting ready. Already he'd spent the whole day on the back of that grumbling, bony beast, and it looked like he had hours ahead. All for nothing. All his carefully worked plans for nothing. He grumbled to himself, as he cinched the straps holding his pack to the beast's rear and checked everything was in place. Sometimes fortune worked in strange ways. He glanced up at the forbidding heavens. The storm had not yet broken, but he was sure it would before long.
Nineteen
Deep in Aron Ka Vail's estates, the old man paced the room. His heart was heavy. How could he have been so wrong about his sons? He paused before the panoramic front window staring out over his lands, but not really seeing them. Outside it was dark, the occasional actinic flash lighting the landscape. His reflection, lit strangely by yellow lantern light, stared back at him. A deep distant rumble sent a tremor through the glass, and the image danced then stilled. He tilted his head a little to one side, trying to imagine how he had looked as a younger man, but there were only traces left. He was tired -- so tired. Running the Guild of Primary Production, living, breathing it every single day, Season in and Season out. It had taken its toll. He turned away from the shadowed figure and sat heavily, staring off into the distance. Ambition was one thing, but for his own son to turn against him...
A reflected movement in the glass in front of him caught his attention. Jarid arrived at the bottom of the stairs and Aron turned to wave him over, giving him a weak, half-hearted smile. Jarid ignored the gesture and stayed where he was.
"They'll be here any moment," Jarid said. "Are you ready?"
"Yes, I'm ready," Aron said with a sigh. Despite everything, the business of the Guilds would go on. "As ready as I need to be."
Jarid entered the room before speaking again. "Let me talk. They're bound to have questions."
"No, no. I can handle it. I'll be fine," said Aron. He glanced back up at his own reflection, looking for certainty, but saw none. He pursed his lips and looked away. Old fool, he thought, you have brought this on yourself.
One of the household staff appeared announcing the party's arrival, but there was a surprise. Karryl Ky Menin was not alone. Roge Men Darnak was with him. Of course, the Men Darnak boy -- no, Aron corrected himself, Principal Men Darnak -- was attached to the Guild of Technologists, and so had every right to be here. Aron signaled to have them shown in, adjusting his position so that he was sitting a little straighter in his chair. It would do no good to have them see him looking slumped and defeated. Moments later, the two were ushered down the stairway. Jarid crossed to meet them and led them to the room's center.
"Please, sit," said Aron. "Jarid, you over there."
Roge Men Darnak wore his uniform. He sat stiffly at the edge of one chair, looking slightly uncomfortable. Karryl Ky Menin took the other seat, relaxing easily into its bulk and stared across at Aron, a question on his face. When Aron refused to be led, Ky Menin spoke.
"So, Aron, tell me. Is it true about Markis?"
Aron hesitated before answering. "Yes," he said reluctantly. "I fear it is."
Ky Menin shook his head. "Who would have thought?" He folded his thin hands in front of him, fixing Aron with a pale stare. "That a son could show such disrespect to his father..."
