"Roge, be calm. Think about what you're saying." It was Ky Menin again. This time his frown was getting deeper. Aron himself could barely believe what Roge had said.
Roge started pacing again. "No, no. That's it. They're trying to destabilize things. They know that things within the Principate aren't firm yet."
Aron echoed Ky Menin's frown. He wished the boy would stand still. This was simply no way to conduct business.
Ky Menin finally stood. He stepped in front of Roge and held up his hands. "Roge. Principal Men Darnak. Don't you think Karin would have told you if that was the case? Do you really think Clier would act without Karin's knowledge?"
Roge stopped, thought for a moment, and then frowned. He tugged at the ends of his sleeves, and then glanced around at all the faces looking at him. Finally, he took a deep breath. "No," he said. "Of course you're right." He nodded and allowed Ky Menin to steer him back to the chair with a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"So, what are we to do?" said Ky Menin once he was comfortably seated back in his own place.
"It seems clear to me that we need to counter any threat within the Principate itself," said Aron. He looked pointedly at Roge, then back at Ky Menin. Karryl nodded slowly.
"Yes, I see what you mean," he said quietly. "And you're quite right of course. Primary Production and Technology will have to work very closely together to deal effectively with the situation, without causing too much upset."
"I agree," said Aron, avoiding looking at the Men Darnak boy.
Jarid, who until this time had remained quiet, stood and moved from his place in the background. He crossed behind Roge's chair and placed his hand lightly on its back.
"So, what are we going to do to deal with the problem, Principal Men Darnak?" he said, looking first at Ky Menin, then across at Aron.
Aron had to admit, the boy was good, very good. Perhaps he really had been wrong. Tradition could dictate only so much.
Roge glanced up at Jarid standing over him. "I don't know yet. I have to think."
"I agree with Father, though," said Jarid as he wandered slowly back to his chair. "We will have to work very closely on this."
Roge nodded. "I should speak to Karin."
"Yes, of course that's the answer," said Jarid from his half-shadowed chair. "And the sooner the better, don't you think?" He leaned forward so that Aron could see his face, a question clearly there.
Aron considered the question, and hesitated. What they were thinking of was not right. It couldn't be right. Jarid quickly looked over at Ky Menin. The Guildmaster returned the look and barely nodded his head once.
"Principal?" said Jarid.
Roge, currently lost in thought and still intermittently tugging at the ends of his sleeves, looked up and smoothed the front of his jacket. "Yes?"
"If you want to make the journey tonight, I will go with you. I know it's late, but you're right, the sooner we get this resolved, the better for all of us. The way will pass more quickly if you have company. I don't mind."
"Yes, yes, of course," said Roge standing. "It gives me an excuse to see Karin anyway. In her message, she said that Father might head my way with his -- what did she call it? That's right -- with his performing troupe. It's better if I'm not there at all. He can barely make a case if I'm not there to greet him. I'd rather not see him now, anyway. If you really don't mind, Jarid??"
Jarid also stood. "No, I don't mind at all." He glanced at Ky Menin, and then looked over at Aron. "I am glad to be of service."
Aron looked at the calm expression on his son's face, at the easiness of his stance, and he swallowed. Was he in a position to stop this now? He looked over at Ky Menin, but found no answers there.
"So," said Roge. "Let us go then. And you're right, the quicker the better."
Finally, Aron looked at the eldest Men Darnak child, knowing that there was no other solution if they were going to maintain true order within the Guilds. And in the words of the Prophet, order came from order. He bowed his head feeling the helplessness of the inevitable. As the new Principal left the room with Jarid close on his heels, Aron could not bring himself to look at him. Keeping his head lowered, he lifted his eyes enough to watch the shadowed reflection retreating up the staircase behind him.
