"Now that is dealt with," said Karryl Ky Menin, "let us talk proper business."
Slowly lifting his head, Aron met the Guildmaster's eyes. The pale stare met his own without a flicker.
"Yes," Aron said with a sigh. "I suppose we really should, shouldn't we."
#
Jarid walked with Roge out into the darkness, heading for the stables and garages.
"This way?" asked Roge.
"Yes, and I've been thinking, Principal. It may be better if we take a groundcar don't you think?"
Roge stopped, looking troubled. "I'm not sure if that's a good idea."
Jarid stepped closer and took him by the upper arm. "It's this way, Principal. You said yourself, the sooner we took care of this, the better, and if we take padders, then we won't be there until the early hours of the morning. We're hardly likely to get anything settled then, are we?"
Roge was still frowning, resisting Jarid's gentle pressure on his arm. "But what about my men?"
"They can follow. We'll send word."
"Yes, you're probably right. Anyway, Karin will know what we should do. We should get there quickly before things get further out of hand."
Jarid nodded and smiled, leading Roge gently to where the groundcars were parked ready for Storm Season. He had no doubt about the implication of Guildmaster Ky Menin's words, nor of his father's complicity. He just had to work out what he was going to do.
He slid the garage doors aside as Roge stood and watched, not even bothering to lend a hand. He stepped inside, pulled a dust sheet from one of the flyers and bunched it into a ball, shoving it to one side on a nearby bench. Glancing around, he saw the tools there, some for vehicle maintenance, others for general work around the estate.
"What are you doing, Jarid?" said Roge from outside.
"I'll be with you in a moment, Principal." He reached up, snagging a solid screwdriver from one of the racks and dropped it into his pocket.
Slipping into the groundcar, he started it and backed it slowly out of the garage, waiting while Roge opened the door and got in the other side. Jarid slipped the screwdriver out of his pocket and rested it gently down beside the seat.
"I'll just shut the doors, Principal," he said, opening his own door and stepping out to do just that. He was back in a moment, his door sliding shut behind him.
"Because of the Season, I'm going to have to use manual control."
"Yes, of course. Do what you have to," said Roge.
"Oh, I will, Principal. I will," said Jarid, glancing at Roge Men Darnak's impassive face. He headed the groundcar out toward the hills and away.
Twenty
Sandon grunted as the padder stumbled and made yet another misstep. Damn the animal, damn the weather, damn the Season. And damn Men Darnak and his whole cursed family. A gust of wind slashed rain into his eyes and he tried in vain to blink the water away. When that failed, he tried wiping at his face with the edges of his hood, but all that succeeded in doing was spreading the greasy moisture around some more. The padder grumbled again, and for once, he felt some empathy with the beast. For the past hour, he'd been running over the message he was to deliver to Roge Men Darnak. Well, that had been the plan. As soon as he'd reached the Men Darnak estates -- strange to think of them like that, belonging to a different Men Darnak -- he found himself headed back out into the blustering wind and sharp-toothed rain...again. Roge had not been in residence. One of the local landsmen, once he'd gotten over the shock of dealing with a bedraggled and shivering Atavist, had pointed him in the direction of the Ka Vail estate. Sandon had taken the news with a deep sigh and headed back out.
Aron Ka Vail. He mulled over the last time they'd met. How different would this meeting be? It was strange how things played out.
