Binary by Jay Caselberg (best short books to read txt) 📖

Sandon glanced at the Principal. A touch of color was coming back to the old man's features. Sandon grunted his satisfaction. He turned back to the priest. He could not have this conversation here. He gripped Kovaar by the arm and drew him to one side, out of earshot of the others.

"I don't know what game you're playing, Kovaar, but the Principal's condition is not anything I would expect from a man like him. I warn you, if I think you have any part in the way he is, you'll pay for it."

"As the Prophet wills," he said impassively, apparently unmoved by Sandon's threat.

Sandon growled in frustration. "Damn you. You will talk to me. You can't hide behind your blessed Church any more."

"We all have our place. As the seasons change, so does the order of things. The season has changed." Kovaar shrugged, turned and simply walked away to the other side of the room.

Sandon ground his teeth and closed his eyes, struggling hard to resist the urge to grab the man and shake him. He couldn't afford a confrontation now. The priest would wait. His priority was Men Darnak and making certain he was all right. He crossed back to the fire and crouched in front of Men Darnak's chair.

"Principal?"

The old man tore his gaze away from the fire, where he seemed lost in thought. "Ahh, my children around me." He reached out a hand on either side, taking Sandon's hand in one, and Fran's in the other on the opposite side. "But you're not my children. I know you. Where are my children now?" he asked, looking blankly, pleadingly, into Sandon's face.

"Principal, you know. We have lost Roge. Tarlain has gone. Karin is who knows where. Probably at her estates with Yosset."

"Lost." He nodded slowly. "Yes, lost. Everything. They are gone, all of them." He leaned forward. "And you. You have left me too."

Sandon frowned. What he was saying didn't seem to be getting through to the old man. He shifted position. His robe was still dripping water on to the floor beneath him, but that didn't matter now. The fire's warmth would soon have him dry. He looked across at Fran, clearly uncomfortable with his hand gripped firmly by the man he knew as his Principal. Sandon gave him a slight shake of his head, but the young man just returned the gesture with a confused look. Trying not to let the gesture be seen, he motioned Fran to rest still.

"Principal, you need to listen to me. We need to get you somewhere safe. Your estates. We will have to stay here tonight, because of the storm, but we will have to move as soon as we are able."

Men Darnak frowned. "I have no place. Those that have everything become those that have nothing. Everything gone. Roge. Tarlain. Everything. Karin is not my daughter. How can she be, eh? What did I do? No, I will stay here. There is nothing for me anywhere else."

Sandon tried to keep his voice calm. "Principal, this is no place for you."

"There is no place for me," he spat in response. "The Prophet has shown me. He would cast me from the world. I have failed. I don't care. I don't care." He withdrew his hands, closed his eyes and shook his head. "No. There is nothing left to hear."

Sandon stood and looked down at a frail, confused old man. Kovaar sat on a couch at the other side of the room, watching Sandon. Fran still crouched beside the old man's chair. Sandon sighed, a deep emptiness welling up within him. How could this be the man to whom he had devoted his life? He had to try and make this right. He ran his hand across his forehead, through his hair and then rubbed the back of his neck. There had to be something he could do, something to alleviate the Principal's condition. The hollow within him was a weakness he couldn't afford. The old man needed him, needed him to be strong.

He ran the possibilities through his head, and the only answer he could come up with was Tarlain. With Roge gone, Karin being Karin, and all other support having faded away like the light of the Major Twin, there was no other choice. Briefly, he toyed with the idea of the Atavist community, but that was no real answer. No, it had to be Tarlain. Tarlain, young, impetuous, and hiding out somewhere near the mines. It wasn't much of a choice. He glanced at Fran. The boy would leave in the morning and try and find him, depending on whether the storm had broken by then. That, at least, was a start. Perhaps with Sandon's help, the Men Darnak boy might be able to do something to help his father. And meanwhile, the storm still howled and grumbled around them. He glanced across at Kovaar, and the priest was still watching him. He looked away again. Just for a moment, he wondered, was it Kovaar or the Church that had the agenda?

An insistent pounding on the door cut Sandon's thoughts short. Without waiting for an answer, the door was flung wide with a sudden blast of moisture and cold air. In the doorway stood a figure, covered in wet weather gear and holding a lantern. The man stepped inside, leaving the door open behind him, oblivious to the weather that followed him into the small space.

"Where is the Principal? I come from Guildmaster Ka Vail."

Fran got to his feet. "Bilard! What are you doing here?"

The man lowered his lantern, taking in the scene in front of him. "The Guildmaster sent me and a couple of others out to look. He was worried about Principal Men Darnak."

Here perhaps was Sandon's answer. "Come in, man. Close the door behind you.

Bilard gestured behind him. "But what about the others?"

"They'll be fine for a minute or two. Just come in and close the door."

Twenty-Seven

Karryl Ky Menin sat drumming his fingers on his desk. His usually placid face was troubled. He reached out to turn on the screen and scan the grounds, but hesitated, his hand halfway across the desk. Slowly, he drew it back and neatly folded both of his hands back in his lap. A detailed search of the grounds was simple displacement activity. He hadn't been blessed with intellect for nothing. He would get to the root of what was sitting like a thorny burr in the back of his mind without trying to pretend to himself it wasn't there.

One by one, he turned the players over in his head. Karin Men Darnak. Yes, she was worthy, but he didn't think the problem lay there -- at least not yet. And her husband, Yosset Clier, could be discounted altogether? Tarlain Men Darnak? No. The boy was young, idealistic, and besides, he was nowhere to be found. It might be worthy to find out exactly what he was up to, but whatever it was, it could easily be contained. There was no point being unprepared though. It was lack of preparation that always turned around to bite you. He would set some of his people to find out what the youngest Men Darnak was doing. The youngest Ka Vail had warned him about the father's intent to help Leannis, but Ky Menin had to discount it. It was clear that the boy was simply trying to position himself to take over his father's role.

He ran one palm back and forth across the surface of his desk. Back and forth, back and forth. He watched the motion, still thinking. That was it! Vacillation, uncertainty, he hated uncertainty. It was Aron Ka Vail. He'd sensed the man's unease, his lack of commitment last time they'd been together. He drew his hand back toward his lap, but now it was closed. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned forward and switched on his screen. The boy had been right after all.

"Faran. Yes. I want word about what's going on at Ka Vail's estates. I don't care. Just find out. Do it now. Yes. I'll be here." He withdrew his hand from the screen. The frown was gone. A slight smile played at the corner of his lips. Preparation, anticipation -- these were the things that made existence run smoothly.

He leaned forward again and pulled open a drawer. There, lying neatly in a long, narrow box, sat another of the results of his careful preparation. For many long months, his teams had been working on the thing that lay there, perfecting, refining. He ran his fingers over the sleek surface, restraining himself from actually picking it up. The time would come, but it wasn't yet. With one last lingering look, he slid the drawer shut again. Karin was due soon and it would do no good to announce his full intentions quite yet. He preferred to keep a couple of things in reserve. Karin's and his own plans may coincide for the moment, but it was always much better to keep a certain something in reserve.

Karin stood in the doorway of Ky Menin's lounge area, disbelief written across her face.

"He did what?" she said. "Then Jarid was right."

"I know," said Ky Menin with a sigh. "I sensed there was something wrong with the way he was behaving last time we met. I have some of my men bringing him here now. We can deal with him then."

Karin crossed the room, her jaw set, and sat. "After all we've done, we can't have that old fool getting in the way. We've had enough of old fools. There's enough unease in the rest of the Guilds without Ka Vail upsetting the balance."

Ky Menin nodded and crossed to sit beside her. He placed a hand on her leg and leaned in as he spoke. "Look, from the reports I've had of your father's behavior, I cannot believe he's any sort of real threat. Look at where we are, Karin. Just think about it. Storm Season, Kallathik unease, and now your father behaving as if he's lost his senses completely. We're in an ideal position."

She looked unconvinced. Slowly, she shook her head. "No. You know the traditions as well as I do. Prophet or no, I still have to deal with the fact that I'm a woman. With Tarlain missing and Roge gone, they could just as easily turn back to the old man."

Ky Menin sighed again and sat back. "You're right, but then you're not right. Traditions change. Everything changes. It doesn't matter that you're a woman any more, Karin. Things have to change. We've been bound in the traditions passed down from the First Families for far too long. Anybody with any sense knows where the real power in the Men Darnak household lies. You can't believe otherwise."

A subtle chime from Ky Menin's household systems announced an arrival. Karin looked expectantly toward the door, and Ky Menin stood, smoothing down his tunic. The room's sparse white furnishings echoed the simplicity of his dress. Clean, white, it would do. He nodded to himself. Any further conversation could wait. He turned back to Karin, still sitting expectantly on the couch.

"This will be Ka Vail. You wait here. I won't be a moment." He glanced about the room one more time. "This, I think, will be the ideal setting." He said the to reassure her, just as much as to echo his thoughts. He gave her a quick nod before going to meet his guests.

Moments later, he returned with a flustered looking Aron Ka Vail, escorted by two of Ky Menin's own Guildsmen. Ky Menin nodded to his men, and they quickly withdrew, leaving the three of them, Ky Menin, Karin Men Darnak, and Aron