Three
Sandon stepped quickly into the long ceremonial chamber used for state
functions, cursing inside. Because of
his lateness, he would be forced to maneuver carefully past the ranked
officials already present. With his lips
pressed into a tight line, he tried to spy the best way through. A quick scan of the faces revealed many he
knew. Representatives of several major
Guild families clustered together across the broad space, but, in this
instance, only those that had close political ties within the Principate. Men Darnak, it appeared, had been very
careful about distributing the knowledge of his announcement. As usual, the Principal wanted to control the
dynamic of the news, channeling it first through those to whom he gave the most
trust. Typical Men
Darnak.
Torches sat bracketed on
the pillars lining the side walls, already burning, their light dimmed by the
three vast chandeliers hanging from the ceiling's middle. Had it been two months earlier and the torches
would have remained unlit, but now, with the Minor Twin threatening, it was
better to be sure. A harsh burst from
the twinned suns, or another quick quake, could put the power out at any time. A low murmur echoed from the walls as those
in attendance stood fidgeting, waiting for Men Darnak to appear.
Mumbling polite words of
apology, Sandon slipped between the assembled officeholders and made his way to
the front. There were protests and
offended looks as he wormed his way through, but as soon as they saw who it
was, the expressions quickly changed.
Inwardly wincing at every unnecessary piece of extra attention he was
gathering, he finally found a spot. The
assembled Guild people knew who Sandon was right enough; he just didn’t like to
advertise. Just as well he could rely on
Men Darnak's penchant for the dramatic to divert any real attention. The Principal would draw out the moment, the
expectation of the crowd, until the last possible second, then with a suitably
theatrical entrance, he would sweep away all thought of anything else.
Sandon searched the room
for a sign of Men Darnak's children.
There stood Yosset Clier, the middle child Karin's husband, a look of
annoyance on his heavily jowled face.
Clier held a leading executive post in the Guild of Primary
Production. The old Guildmaster, Aron Ka
Vail’s absence suddenly made sense. With
Karin’s connection, Men Darnak had little need of Guildmaster Ka Vail at this
particular gathering. Yosset Clier’s
dark brow was drawn in a thundery scowl.
He noticed Sandon watching, narrowed his eyes, gave the barest nod of
recognition and looked away.
Further around the circle,
stood the thin aesthetic figure of Karryl Ky
Menin. Roge, the eldest Men Darnak boy
was already indentured to the Guild of Technologists, which the pale,
gray-haired man led. Ky Menin stood
calmly, his hands crossed before him, seemingly bound up in his own
thoughts. If he saw Sandon looking at him,
he gave no sign. Sandon had long thought
privately that Ky Menin was a one to watch.
Ky Menin was far too hard to read, far too hard by far. Matching this one with Roge Men Darnak was
perhaps not the best choice — Ky Menin was too clever — but the Principal
needed to extend his influence evenly.
Despite the risk of Roge being overwhelmed by Ky Menin’s sly
intelligence, Sandon understood and appreciated the wisdom of Men Darnak’s
choice.
Sandon continued scanning,
searching for one more face. And then he
spied him, positioned near the center, right back toward the rear of the group
— Karnav Din Baltir. The small bookish
man was the only other Guildmaster here with a real, direct interest. Din Baltir stood partially concealed,
watching the rest of the crowd nervously.
His family controlled the Guild of Welfare. Medicines, social amenities, relief in times
of crisis were his province. During
Storm Season, Din Baltir's Guild naturally accrued status. Principal Men Darnak's youngest son, Tarlain,
was about to take up formal indenture with Din Baltir. The boy had been working within the Guild for
almost a year now. In the current
circumstance, the Guildmaster had every right to look nervous. Though Tarlain's acceptance into Welfare was
almost a foregone conclusion, the agreements had yet to be finalized. If Sandon knew him, Din Baltir would be
dreading the Principal's impending announcement, fearful that it might upset
his own plans. Having a Men Darnak
within their ranks gave a Guild direct access into the workings of the
Principate and Din Baltir would be aware of the importance. His small bright gaze flicked from person to
person. His eyes met Sandon's, and he
quickly looked away, pretending he hadn't seen.
Sandon nodded to himself.
Still no sign of the
children, but seeing these three, to be able to watch the way they responded to
Men Darnak, was just as important. Din
Baltir might bear watching as well. The
youngest Men Darnak boy was full of high ideals, and Welfare was the perfect
breeding ground for misplaced idealism.
Din Baltir could easily shape the boy’s direction.
And yes, there of course
stood Men Darnak's priest, Witness Kovaar.
The gaunt, robed aesthete hovered near the entrance to the side
passageway. The corridor led to Men
Darnak's private chambers, the place from where the Principal would make his
entrance. Obviously, the priest meant to
join him as soon as he emerged. Sandon
pressed his lips together.
Satisfied that he had
everyone important marked, he settled back to wait, paying only scant mind to
the others in the room, though there were many here who'd be worth casual
observation in other circumstances. Too
many varied interests, too many houses were clustered in this one room for the
moment. Better to keep his attention on
the ones that mattered.
The Guild structure on
Aldaban was complex, ruled by marriage, succession and family relations. The three major Guilds, Technologists,
Welfare and Primary Production, controlled much of the world, but over it all
sat the Principate. Voting rights within
each guild varied, and they changed with each new succession, making it hard to
keep track from season to season, but always there was the Guildmaster. As a Guild decided, the Guildmaster relayed
its decisions to the Principate. No
change could be enforced without the approval of the Principal and it was up to
the Guildmaster to negotiate that approval.
There was a long history to the Guilds’ structure, echoing the way
things were run on the vast colony ship
And here, now, the
Principal, Captain to Aldaban's entire population, was about to withdraw his
firm hand. The very prospect made Sandon
nervous. Men Darnak's children were
individuals in their own right, but between them, they had a lot to learn. History, tradition were what really ruled but
sometimes history and tradition required a little nudge. There was nothing in any of the children to
disturb the way the Guilds functioned.
Sandon wasn’t particularly worried about losing his own role, certain
that his services would be in demand, especially if Men Darnak wanted to
maintain his influence. The old man
relied on Sandon to be his eyes and ears behind the scenes. Sandon Yl Aris knew the way things worked,
the key people, what moved them and motivated them. That knowledge would be crucial to a smooth
transition of power.
A stir from the side
hall interrupted Sandon's musings. Two
uniformed functionaries entered from the passageway and stepped briskly to
either side of the door. Moments later,
Principal Leannis Men Darnak, tall and bearded swept into the hall. His ceremonial robes flowed about him. He strode up the steps to a table positioned
at the center of the dais at the chamber's front. A halo of white hair floated about his head,
flowing out behind. He walked
confidently across the podium, stopped behind the table, and scanned the faces
of the assembly, as if counting them, fixing one or two with his pale stare
before moving on. Someone toward the
back of the room coughed. Men Darnak
glanced in that direction, narrowed his eyes, then
looked back toward the passageway. He
was still an imposing figure, thought Sandon.
He might be old, but the strength was still there, the presence; it made
no sense for him to be talking about retirement yet. Still, it was sometimes hard to fathom the
way the Principal's mind worked, and well beyond Sandon’s place to question it.
Men Darnak waited,
watching. Then, at last, he nodded
briefly to one of the functionaries by the entrance and the man made a signal
down the corridor. A
brief moment later, and one by one, Men Darnak's children filed into the room. They each bore the pallid complexion and high
cheekbones characteristic of the Men Darnak line. Leading the group was Roge, the eldest
boy. He walked purposefully into the
room, stopped to adjust his dark blue tunic, paused, caught Karryl Ky Menin's eye and gave a brief nod. Then he moved to the front of the crowd and
stood, his arms crossed over his chest, as he faced the dais. Guildmaster Ky Menin
had given no sign recognizing the acknowledgement. Interesting. Sandon glanced down briefly at his own suit,
making sure there was nothing out of place.
Next came
Karin, the daughter, her honey-brown hair bound in an elaborate knot at the
back of her head. She walked
self-confidently into the chamber and moved to take up position beside her
husband, the portly Yosset Clier. She
stood a good head taller than her husband, and wore an intricately carved ajura wood wedding bracelet on her
wrist, matching the one on Clier's own.
She barely glanced at her husband, and took up position half a step
forward, her imperious gaze fixed on her father. Sandon cursed silently. She had partially obscured his view of the
fat little, Guildsman—he didn’t want to draw attention to himself by moving
now. The children themselves were good
indicators, but he needed to monitor the reactions of those within the Guilds
themselves. With a grimace, he turned
his attention to the last arrival.
The youngest child,
Tarlain, brought up the rear. He was
shorter than his brother and sister, and lacked the evident self-assurance that
his siblings exuded. The younger son wore
a dark blue tunic, similar to his brother's.
He stopped at the entrance and frowned, as if wondering what to do,
glanced across at the table where his father stood, then moved fully into the
room as if sight of the Principal standing there had prompted him to action. He found his spot, stood and then looked
around the room. Sandon got the vague
impression that Tarlain was searching, as if by doing so he might see an exit
he had previously missed. Leannis Men
Darnak watched the boy impatiently, waiting for him to settle, vague
displeasure evident on his face. Finally
resigned to where he was, Tarlain stopped fidgeting and clasped his hands
before him. Men Darnak watched him for a
moment longer, then nodded and faced the room.
The Principal held the
moment, and then drew himself to full height and spoke. “Thank you all for coming on such short
notice, but I thought we had best deal with this while communications were all
still in order, before the storms were upon us again. There are some of you who will want to convey
the news of this afternoon's meeting as soon as possible.”
Men Darnak’s words and
manner showed no sign of infirmity, nor the failing
strength that came with age.
“I urge you all to use
your discretion. You will be aware,” he
continued, “that not all Guild representatives are here with us. There is a reason for that. The announcement I am about to make will have
far-reaching implications for the Guilds and for Aldaban as a whole. I wish the news to be handled delicately and
in a manner befitting those closest to the Principate. The choice of those here should therefore be
clear.” He paused to let the words sink
in, scanning the faces, pausing meaningfully once or twice as his gaze came to
rest on specific people. Sandon watched,
noting the reactions. The crowd waited
calmly, barely a shuffle of movement apparent.
Seemingly satisfied, Men
Darnak continued. “There comes a time
within all proper order that those in authority must make way for those who
come after them. History governs the way
we proceed.
Life is the greatest teacher and there will always come the time for the
old to make way for those who need greater lessons than we can give them
ourselves. For some time, I have been
guiding my sons and my daughter in the ways of the Principate, passing on what
knowledge I could, but there is only so much that can be taught. One day soon, my son Roge will take over as
Principal. In support, there will be his
sister Karin, and his brother Tarlain.
As the time for Roge's accession approaches, it is fitting that all
three take a more active role in the Principate's functions. To that end, I intend to step down from
active involvement in the affairs of the Principate.”
Murmurs rippled across
the vast hall. Men Darnak held up a hand
to still them. Surely, the crowd must
have guessed….
“Of course,” Men Darnak
continued, “I will still be here to guide and encourage, but from this point
on, I expect all of you to treat Roge with complete respect and to grant him
the authority that you have shown in your day to day dealings with me. Believe me, I will be watching.” He glanced across at Sandon, held the look
for a moment, and then turned his gaze to the rest of the crowd. “For the time being, I will remain Principal,
but in effect, it will be Principal in title only. This will be necessary until we have spread
the news of the transition in a fitting fashion.”
Sandon noted the smug
glance Karin shot her brother. The
younger son, Tarlain seemed lost in thought, barely a part of the proceedings. Toward the back of the crowd, Guildmaster
Karnav Din Baltir shifted nervously. He
was watching the younger Men Darnak boy.
What was troubling him? Din
Baltir and Tarlain Men Darnak had already been dealing with each other for some
time. What exactly did Din Baltir know
that was making him nervous?
Sandon's speculations
were cut short. The chandeliers above
rattled slightly, the merest tinkling.
Others had noticed it too and were moving away from the room's center. Men Darnak stood firmly in his position
behind the large table, the only sign that he too had noticed the warning, a
movement of his hand to the table's edge.
Everything went still. Sandon
immediately stepped backward, seeking something solid.
He had barely reached
the wall when the second vibration came, stronger this time. All around the hall, people threw out their
hands for support as the floor beneath them became suddenly unstable. The chandeliers bounced on their mountings,
the cut glass ringing chimes across the hall.
A single drop shook free, tumbled to the stone floor and shattered in a
myriad of crystal shards.
Then, as suddenly as it
had come, it was past. The hall was
silent except for the tinkling coming from the chandeliers as they gradually
settled. No one moved. Nervously they scanned the ceiling and walls,
waiting. Ten seconds. Twenty. The chandeliers stilled.
A collective sigh ran
around the hall and one by one, people moved away from the walls. There was slight, nervous laughter and a
relieved murmur. It had only been a
small one this time. Sandon looked up
toward the dais. Men Darnak stood there,
not even having bothered to seek anything more solid than the table. He watched the room as all around people
smoothed their clothing and moved sheepishly back to their positions. Sandon smiled to himself. Even in a potential crisis, the old man stood
strong.
Someone behind Sandon
muttered to a companion. “So early in the season.
It doesn't bode well, does it?”
Sandon missed the reply;
Men Darnak's firm voice rose above them all.
“Now,” he said, drawing
everyone's attention, “that that's over, I believe some celebration is in
order.”
More nervous laughter
sprinkled the room.
The Principal motioned
to someone out of view and moments later, uniformed functionaries filed in
bearing trays full of glasses.
#
Sandon circulated
casually, catching snippets of conversation here and there. A smile here, a nod there, a carefully worded
phrase of greeting, all eased his passage around the great hall as he kept his
eyes and ears open. He noticed Men
Darnak watching him once. The Principal
gave him the barest of nods and then turned to converse with someone obscured
behind him. The old man didn't miss a
thing.
Knots of well wishers
clustered around the three Men Darnak offspring. Sandon skirted the periphery of these
groups. He was more interested in the
interactions, the snippets of information that passed between individuals in
smaller clusters on the fringes: the furtive glance; the hand on the shoulder
to draw someone out of earshot; the serious expression and the frown. He was alert to them all.
He snagged a drink and
wandered slowly, looking for opportunities.
An animated conversation off to one side drew his attention now. The younger Men Darnak boy appeared to be in
heated discussion with Karnav Din Baltir.
Sandon edged closer to hear what they were saying.
“I don't care about
that,” said Tarlain. “Can't you see we
have a duty?”
The Guildmaster
sighed. “You are always so impatient,
Tarlain. Why can't you
just bide your time?”
“You know damned well
why not. Once Roge has his hands firmly
on the reins, once he's entrenched, there's not a damned thing I can do, that we can do.”
“And I keep telling
you,” the Guildmaster replied in hushed tones.
“Now is not the time to act. Wait
until everything's settled. There'll be
time enough to test the lie of the land then.
You'll achieve nothing by undertaking anything if you’re only half
prepared.”
“And
what about the Kallathik meantime?”
Tarlain was clearly becoming frustrated.
“Don't you think we have a duty to them as well?”
Din Baltir raised a hand
to Tarlain's shoulder and spoke even more quietly, as if urging Tarlain to follow
his mood. “Quietly,
Tarlain. Not here. The Kallathik have waited this long. A few more seasons won't hurt. I know it’s frustrating, but if you can't
keep this to yourself, you're inviting disaster.”
The
Kallathik? Again?
Tarlain was still speaking. His voice had raised a notch. “No!
It's the common disease, just sitting back and letting things happen. I’m sick of it, always going around in
circles. Lots of talk and then nothing
happens. You may be happy just to let
things happen of their own accord, but I'm not prepared to wait any longer.”
Tarlain spun on his heel
and stalked off. Karnav Din Baltir
watched him go, the hand that had rested on the boy's shoulder closing slowly
and moving to tug at his lower lip.
Such an impassioned speech
from the boy had surprised Sandon, particularly in such a public setting. He knew Tarlain was an idealist, a little
impulsive, but he would have thought him cleverer than to give vent to such
words in a large public gathering. He
sipped at his drink thoughtfully as he watched Din Baltir. How exactly could the succession and the
Kallathik be related? Din Baltir caught
his eye, and Sandon raised his glass, giving him a brief smile. Din Baltir nodded and turned away. It didn’t hurt to let the Guildmaster know.
Sure that the
Guildmaster’s attention was now elsewhere, Sandon crossed to where Men Darnak
stood in a knot of higher Guild functionaries.
He took his time getting there, stopping once or twice to charm a few of
the crowd and pass a few words. Finally,
he stepped discreetly behind and to one side of the Principal, cleared his
throat and spoke in a low voice.
“Principal, we probably
need to have a word.”
The Principal looked
back over his shoulder, narrowed his eyes briefly then gave a short nod. “If you'll excuse me, gentleman,” he
said. “There's a small matter I must
attend to.” He stepped back from the
group and turned to face Sandon, drawing him to one side.
“Can this not wait, Yl
Aris?” the Principal said with just a hint of annoyance. “Right now is not the best time.”
“I believe it might be
important, Principal,” said Sandon.
“And so is this,
Sandon.”
“Yes, I know, Principal,
but I really do think you need to hear this one.”
“All right then. My chambers. But give it a few minutes, will you?”
Sandon nodded and moved
discretely away to hover near one of the side walls.
Men Darnak's height gave
him an easy advantage in a crowd such as this and after the few minutes had
passed, where the Principal moved effortlessly through the crowd, bestowing a
word here or there, lifting a hand to touch an arm or a shoulder, he glanced
over the intervening heads and gave the slightest toss of his chin. The barest of nods from Sandon, and the
Principal turned, seeking out Witness Kovaar, motioning for the priest to
attend.
The Principal had drawn
closer to the Church in the days since his wife’s death, and it seemed to have
given him some sort of solace. The
priest had recently become a constant figure in the Principal’s sphere. Sandon was prepared to tolerate the man, but
he wasn’t comfortable with it. On this
particular occasion, he would have preferred to talk to the old man in
private. He clamped his jaw shut and, suppressing
a sigh, followed Men Darnak as he swept from the hall. The Principal strode down the side passage
without so much as a backward glance. He paused impatiently at the double ajura wood doors waiting for them to
catch up, then ushered them both inside.