Puppets and their Masters

“Zesa stood at the Red King’s right hand side and watched as Glade and Absalom were dragged before him. This was their audience with the Red King. Their day’s work had come to nothing. And Zesa had taken refuge in the Red King’s protection.

‘Now you see,’ the Red King said. ‘There is none who can stand against me and live.’

Glade and Absalom wept on the floor, and pleaded with their friend. The Red King had commanded that Zesa kill them. He took the knife in his hands and raised it high.”

-from ‘Fourth Song: Reign of the Red King’

Aymon wondered if he should go congratulate the young Vaneik. He was dreading it, and not least because he thought the boy was an imbecile. While his father did his best to keep Wil's shenanigans under wraps, that didn't stop rumors from circulating about the boy's propensity for trouble. Tales of scorned women, unpaid dealers, and damaged dogfighters all painted a sordid picture that followed him across the galaxy. Maybe he had grown up a bit since his teenage years, but Aymon doubted it. He was "lucky" that Nomar Thule had thrown his weight behind him. Now, there was a smart kid.

Kid. He was at least twenty six. Aymon shook his head as he walked down the hallway. He made it at last to the room where his team had used as their makeshift office. Most of them were still there, though the whole day was winding down. In the morning, everyone would be boarding ships to head away from Canerra, aside from the council members who were staying for the next session of the council. Everyone else would be going home directly, or hitching whatever ride they could get back to their own ship. Aymon's whole team would be going back the way they came, paying passage on a guild ship to Emerri station. He wished once again that the First Star was in service. As much as he felt a connection to any ship, he loved that one; it was his.

Aymon spent a few minutes catching up on what had actually transpired during the last few minutes of the council meeting before the vote. He needed to understand what the landscape of the Guild was looking like. As he might have guessed, it was fractious. The Migollen family's representative had fought to the bitter end, and even after Olms's contingent sided with Wil Vaneik, it still was decided by a margin of a few votes. Aymon was glad, then, that Maxes BarCarran had not shown up at the council meeting. Who knows how he would have voted, considering what had happened to Yan.

Every time Aymon thought about Yan, his heart ached horribly.

He turned his thoughts back to the Guild and asked where he would be able to find Wil Vaneik, to congratulate him, and Nomar Thule, to actually discuss the future of the Guild with. It was clear who the brains of the new regime were. One of his aides handed him a box: the gift that he was going to give the new leader of the Guild. It was traditional for the Empire and the Guild to exchange small tokens whenever one of them switched leadership. When Aymon had taken office, he had been given a set of paperweights carved to look like all the planets in the Emerri system, made out of some of the components of a decommissioned stardrive. That particular set sat on the desk of his private office in his apartments. They were pleasant little baubles.

Wil Vaneik was the easier stop, and it was better not to bruise his ego by visiting Thule first. Aymon found him celebrating in the lounge of the Oathkeeper, surrounded by friends and well wishers. Halen hovered at Aymon's shoulder, on edge from the noisy, already drunk crowd. The room was dark and loud. A band was playing music in the front of the room, but most of the chaotic energy came from people shouting, laughing, singing, and drinking. He had hoped that the Guild had gotten all their shouting out beforehand, but apparently in the Guild there was never not a time to have a riotous party.

Wil was in the center of the mess, seated on the counter of the bar like a king, with two girls hanging on to either side of him. They weren't from the Oathkeeper. Aymon wondered in passing how much they had been paid to be there. It wasn't as though Wil Vaneik was a bad looking man; he had the face of his mother on the body of his father, but given his reputation, his looks alone were not what drew women to him. His parents had only managed to pass down to their child their looks and their wealth, not any of their actual redeeming qualities.

Being loud, self assured, rich, doted-upon, and good looking from birth did not tend to be a good combination of traits that produced successful leaders. Still, Wil Vaneik seemed to be enjoying the party.

Aymon edged his way through the crowd, people either uncaring about his status or unable to tell who he was in the dark. No one let him through, so he found himself dodging and shoving to move forward. It was an odd feeling of anonymity. Under normal circumstances, he would have waited until after a party like this to present his gift, and it would be a formal meeting, and there would be photographs and handshakes, but Aymon wanted to leave the station first thing in the morning, so there was no putting this off. The circumstances here were anything but normal.

Aymon came to the bar. He was absolutely not going to be so undignified as to stand underneath the young Vaneik as he perched high up on the counter, so he nodded to Halen, signalling him to get Vaneik's attention. Halen brushed past him, and their arms briefly touched. In that flash of contact, Halen sent him a signal to be cautious. Something was up with Wil Vaneik, apparently. Aymon squeezed the wooden box he had tucked in his hand at his side.

Halen got Vaneik's attention. Aymon couldn't hear the conversation they were having over the music and hubub of the room. Halen pointed in his direction, and Vaneik looked down and across the room at him. Aymon nodded stiffly.

The young Vaneik clumsily jumped off the bar, startling his two clinging women, and almost knocking over several people who were sitting on stools nearby. He steadied himself on Halen's shoulder, and Halen, ever the professional, didn't even blink. Aymon didn't think that he would have been able to keep his cool if he and Halen were in opposite positions.

Vaneik stumbled down the row of stools along the bar to where Aymon was standing.

"First Sandreas! What a surprise! Come to party with us?" Vaneik had what seemed to be a genuine smile on his face, and he clapped Aymon on the shoulder. Aymon did his best to follow Halen's example and not react. He took a deep breath before he said anything, practically having to shout over the din of the room.

"I came to congratulate you on winning your election," he yelled. Luckily all tone was lost in the din, so he didn't worry about sounding too genuine. "Your father would be proud."

"Yeah, shame he died!" Vaneik grinned some more, holding up a bottle. "Can I get you a drink? You look like you could use one." He called for the bartender. "Get this man something strong!"

"Oh, no, thank you-" Aymon tried to protest, but Vaneik was already shoving a glass into his free hand.

"Drink up!" The man's face was beet red, with sweat beading on his forehead. He was positively deranged, but maybe it was just the fever and passion of youth. Aymon couldn't really refuse the offer now, not without making a fuss, so he raised the cold glass to his lips. Before he drank, he sent his power out through it, checking for poison. He was wary, after all, of exactly how the elder Vaneik had died. There was nothing in it but strong alcohol. He sipped it, and it burned as it went down. He forced himself to smile.

"Like it?" Vaneik asked. "We brew that ourselves on the Oathkeeper. Old family secret recipe!"

"It's strong," Aymon said, which was as much of a compliment as he could give the drink. It didn't have any redeeming qualities in terms of flavor or texture. Vaneik smiled with an open mouth and nodded, his breath was hot and wet.

Aymon held out the box that he was holding in his other hand, smiling thinly. "Usually I'd present this under more formal circumstances, but I'm heading back to Emerri in the morning."

He decided he was already regretting the gift that had been chosen when Vaneik reached clumsily for the box and fumbled it. Aymon rescued it from falling on the floor with a quick use of the power, stabilizing it across Vaneik's arm. He smiled triumphantly, as though he had caught the box himself, and dropped it onto the sticky counter of the bar.

"A gift? Amazing!" He had the enthusiasm of a much younger man, considering Wil Vaneik was in his late twenties. He opened the box and reached inside. He pulled out an ornate bell, with a polished wooden handle and an engraved silver bottom. He rang it happily. "Wow."

The bell could hardly be heard over the crowd, but Aymon knew that it had a mellow sound. It was the type of bell that was used occasionally during worship. This one he had taken from his personal collection, it had been made on Lonn many years before. If he had time to plan to commission something, he would have chosen something different, but the circumstances around the elder Vaneik's death had necessitated the quick selection of a gift.

"Thank you!" Wil put the bell back into the box and closed it. He handed it to one of the random people milling around, and Aymon hoped that this person was a member of the Oathkeeper's crew who would be responsible with the gift. Wil put his arm around Aymon's shoulder and dragged him deeper into the crowded room. Aymon resisted looking back at Halen. Wil's arm was heavy; he leaned on him. His breath was sticky and loud in Aymon's ear as he spoke. "Let's talk about the great partnership we're going to have."

Wil and Aymon sat down on two bar stools. The probably-being-paid girls scooted out of the way, moving to either side of them. Aymon stiffened when one tried to drape herself on him, and she got the hint and stood up, wandering away to go get a drink. Wil had no such problem, and the other woman had her head on his shoulder. Bright lights flashed; someone was taking a photo.

Aymon hadn't been in a party like this for many years, and he hadn't particularly liked them even when he had attended them as a student or apprentice. It was difficult to be the center of attention in such environments. Everyone was drunk and self absorbed, and the line of sight was limited, as was the distance a voice could travel. Power over other people came when they paid attention to him.

"You're leaving tomorrow?" Wil asked. Aymon nodded, but Wil didn't seem to understand. "What?" He yelled.

"Yes, I'm leaving," Aymon said, saying it directly into Wil's ear, so that there would be no mistaking it. It was beneath his dignity to yell for the entire party to hear.

"Too bad, we could've made plans." Wil bobbed his head to the music, some jaunty spacer song that Aymon didn't know.

"Plans?"

"Yeah, my dad was always talking about wanting to build more stations, but he never did get around to talking it through with you- think we're gonna get started on that right away."

This was alarming. The Guild could not just start building things. That had gone badly enough with Malstaire, and the older Vaneik had learned his lesson. Apparently has son had not.

"You'll have to come to Emerri, talk to the Council, maybe we can get some funding for you," Aymon said.

"Funding?" Wil laughed like a screeching animal. "We have charges to burn!"

Wil Vaneik's lack of restraint was alarming, to say the least. He had the political foresight of a toddler, at least when he was drunk like this. Aymon decided not to try to upset him.

"Well, at least come to Emerri so that we can talk things out properly."

"You should come to me!" Wil protested, draping his arm over Aymon's shoulders. He hated this. He hated this. If only the older Vaneik was not dead.

"I am here with you, Wil."

"That's Guildmaster to you!" Wil laughed again. "I'm kidding. We're friends."

"Indeed." Aymon's skin was crawling. "I didn't mean to crash your party. Is Thule here? I heard he enjoyed himself at the council meeting."

"I wouldn't know- I haven't seen since the Council let out. Gotta thank him for rooting for me, though. The man's a lad. Said he's going to help me out."

"He is a clever politician," Aymon admitted. He needed to toe the fine line between inquiring about Thule and not bruising Wil's ego. He needn't have worried, though, because Wil was easily distracted.

"Yeah. Hey, you know my mother, right?" This was an unexpected turn to the conversation.

"I've met her," Aymon said warily.

"Do you know-" Wil stopped to hiccough, and the girl draped over him patted his back. "Anything that would cheer her up? She doesn't like parties and, you know."

Was this the type of thing that Wil Vaneik asked to every stranger he met? How to cheer up his grieving, widowed mother? Or was it just because he didn't typically associate with anyone older than he was, and Aymon was the first person that he came into contact with who was his mother's age?

"I think you just have to be there for her," Aymon said. "I'm sure she's very proud of you becoming Guildmaster."

"Oh, yeah, of course." Wil frowned, and the bottle in his hand tilted dangerously. "I don't know. She's really sad about my dad."

"Aren't you, too?" Aymon glanced over at Halen, wondering if he was picking up anything strange from the young Vaneik. Halen mouthed 'later'.

"Well, yeah, I guess," Wil said. He didn't sound really like he had any feelings toward it. He pulled his arm off of Aymon's shoulder, and hunched forward on the stool, elbows on his knees. "Sorry I asked. I'm bringing down the mood of the place."

"Don't worry about it," Aymon said. "It's your party."

"Yeah, you're right, I should be dancing," Wil smiled broadly and hopped off the stool, almost knocking over the woman next to him. His loosely held drink sloshed around and spilled a few drops onto his shoes. He looked at it in confusion for a second, then drank the rest down and slapped the tumbler onto the bar counter.

"Shall we dance?" he asked the woman next to him, holding out his hand. She giggled and nodded, grabbing his hand. Aymon had to give her one thing: she was quite the actress to put up with Wil Vaneik. "Coming?" Wil asked him.

"I'm not much one for dancing," Aymon said. "Get in touch with my office later, alright? I'm sure there's lots of things you want to discuss with me."

"Yeah, sure, sure." Wil traipsed down through the mass of people, finding a spot where he could sway and dance clumsily. Aymon watched him for a few seconds, then stood to go. He abandoned his unfinished drink on the bar counter, then pushed through the crowd to find the exit. Halen followed him out. They were both relieved when they returned to the relatively chaos-free Canerra station, rather than the bustling Oathkeeper.

Before they tried to find Nomar Thule to talk to him, Aymon and Halen stepped into his hotel room for a minute. It was mostly to discuss the short meeting with Wil Vaneik, but Aymon was definitely going to take the opportunity to brush his teeth and get the lingering taste of Vaneik's homebrew out of his mouth. What possessed the crew to make such stuff, and take pride in it, he had no idea. Spacers just had no taste. That was an unfair assessment, but it was the one he was going to make.

Aymon stood in the bathroom, running cold water over his toothbrush. Halen leaned on the door behind him. Their eyes met in the mirror.

"What did you think of Wil Vaneik?" Aymon asked after a moment of silence.

"I think the Guild is in serious trouble if he's the one that's going to be heading them. The man was high as a kite."

"He was drunk, sure," Aymon said. Halen shook his head.

"No, you couldn't tell? There was something else in his system. His emotions wern’t normal."

"You sure he's not always like that?" Aymon squeezed out the toothpaste and began brushing his teeth, scrubbing extra hard.

"No, but please trust me to know when something unusual is going on."

"Ooo ow ere ule eh?" Aymon said, still with toothbrush in his mouth. Halen scowled at him. Aymon spit out the toothpaste. "You know where Thule is?" He rinsed his mouth.

Halen nodded. "We've been watching him. He's on station. Want someone to call him to arrange a meeting?"

"Yeah."

Halen texted the instructions to the appropriate people as Aymon examined himself in the mirror with a sigh. He was much more haggard than usual. No wonder people had been commenting on it all day. It wasn't good public image. At least that one photo someone took at the party probably was so washed out from the flash that everyone looked equally bad. He smoothed his hair down and made sure that he was clean looking.

"Should I try to cover these up?" he asked Halen, pulling at the bags under his eyes.

"What?" Halen looked up from his phone. "Oh. You gonna start covering your wrinkles with makeup now?"

Aymon sighed and dropped his hands to his sides, turning around to lean against the bathroom counter. "I'm trying not to think about it."

"Good," Halen said. "You need to be focused to talk to Thule."

"I don't know what I'm going to say to him," Aymon admitted.

"Easy: all you have to do is congratulate him on his shadow puppeteering of the Guild, but don't be too obvious about it. That and see if he's involved with what happened to Vaneik."

"You think he is?"

"Considering how well this turned out in his favor, I can't say that he isn't a suspect. I haven't been able to get close to him since the funeral, and there was no telling anything there."

"If he's in on it, then Wil Vaneik probably is as well."

"You never know. The man is as dumb as a particularly badly bred dog. He's more likely to be a pawn than anything else."

"You say that even though he had that drug messing with him? Could it be like what happened that other time?"

"The assassin? Maybe. I don't know. I've been more paranoid about that since then, which is why I noticed the drugs in the first place." Halen sighed. "I don't know. I can't see everything."

Aymon walked forward to close the distance between them. He rested his hand on the center of Halen's chest. "I'm not expecting you to see everything. I'm just asking what you think."

Halen's phone buzzed. He looked at it. "Vaneik says yes to a private meeting with you. Fifteen minutes, aboard the Gallant."

"The Gallant?"

"His family's ship."

"Oh." Aymon didn't know much about it, he had never heard of it. It must be a third rate ship, for it to be docked at Canerra station. Every ship that had important deliveries to make all stuck to their schedules. The guests attending Vaneik's funeral all had to hitchhike their way to Canerra aboard these less busy ships.

"Is he not planning on staying with the Oathkeeper?"

"I don't know what he's planning to do. You'll have to ask him that yourself."

Aymon tapped his fingers on Halen's chest. Halen wasn't in the best mood, and understandably so, but it didn't make Aymon feel any better. He dropped his hand and headed out. Halen followed him. If the Gallant was docked on the other side of the station, it would be a bit of a walk to get there.

Nomar Thule's chosen meeting spot on the Gallant was a run down little meeting room near the bridge of the ship. When it came to Guild ships, it was clear that the Gallant was not ranked highly in wealth, power, or any other measurable characteristic. The whole place had an aura of disrepair. Aymon thought it was shameful, and even Halen couldn't resist looking around at the place with a slightly curious expression. What type of captain and crew would tolerate such conditions?

They had been led to the room by a little kid who had been sent to meet them. He claimed to be Nomar's youngest brother, though Aymon didn't see any resemblance. It was pretty disrespectful of Nomar not to meet them himself, considering who Aymon was, but perhaps he was busy. The whole ship was borderline deserted. The crew were either on station or cloistered away. Aside from their young escort, they only saw one or two other people as they walked the length of the ship.

Though Halen followed him all the way to the door to this meeting room, Aymon flashed him a hand signal before he went inside- he would go in alone. There was no reason to spook Nomar by making this a non-private conversation. Aymon was perfectly capable of defending himself, after all. And anything that Halen needed, he could feel out from outside the door. Aymon knocked, then opened the door to the room and stepped through, closing it behind him.

The only nice thing about the meeting room, as far as Aymon could tell, was the screen on one wall that was displaying the current view outside of the ship. Everything else, from the shabby office chairs to the stained tiles on the ceiling to the torn rug gave off a sad feeling. Why had Thule debased himself by meeting here? They could have met anywhere on Canerra station.

Thule was standing on the other end of the room when Aymon came in, examining a tablet in his hand and pacing. He put it down, smiling, and came over to shake hands.

"First Sandreas, I'm glad you came to find me," Thule said. His handshake was firm, and his smile looked genuine.

"It's good to see you again, Nomar," Aymon said. "I've been looking for you since yesterday."

"I heard that you were. I'm sorry that I've been unavailable; it's been pretty crazy around here."

"That's one way of putting it."

"Here, have a seat. Can I get you anything?"

Aymon didn't know what Nomar could get him, since the room was so devoid of anything appealing. "No, I'm fine," he said. "I just came from, well, I suppose Guildmaster Vaneik's party."

"It does feel strange to say that again so soon, doesn't it?"

"I'm afraid that I won't be able to picture anyone other than Ungarti when I say it until it really settles in," Aymon said. They took seats across from each other at the table.

"So," Thule began, "what were you looking for me to talk about?"

"Yesterday, I was going to give my condolences and ask what your plans were, but I see that those plans have already played out."

"A lot has changed over the past day or so, that's for sure."

"I do still want to offer my personal condolences," Aymon said. "Ungarti was a great man, and I know what it feels like to lose your mentor." His mind flashed back to Caron Herrault, his own mentor, for a moment. What would she do in his place?

"Thank you. That means a lot. Ungarti respected you."

"And I respected him. I wish that we could have worked together, rather than at cross purposes much of the time."

"I think that's just how politics works," Thule said with a laugh.

"I certainly hope not. I am eager to forge a working relationship with this new Guild leadership."

"Oh, of course, I didn't mean to imply otherwise," Thule backpedaled.

"Are you planning on working closely with the young Vaneik? He seems to trust you, and you supported him in the Council."

"I had to support him, or the Migollens would have won the vote," Thule said. Aymon wasn't exactly sure that was true. If he had worked to sway some of the more rational minded people, there was a chance that Olms could have won the election. A slim chance, but a non zero one. But Olms and Thule had been competing with each other for leadership of the Guild since the first days of their apprenticeship, so it was unlikely that Thule ever would have bowed to her. It was odd, though, that both apprentices eventually acquiesced to serve under the young Vaneik, especially considering what a poor choice he was. The love they had for their old mentor and the respect they had for his opinions must have done wonders to sway them in the end. They trusted Ungarti's watching ghost far too much, he suspected.

"That doesn't really answer the question of what you'll be doing now that you're no longer an apprentice."

"Wil did say that I could remain in my position," Thule said. "Though since my position aside from 'apprentice' has always been an unofficial one, I hope that I won't be shuffled around."

"You coordinate finances- that's not an official position?"

Thule laughed. "You have no idea how dysfunctional the Guild really is. It's up to the Council and the Guildmaster to actually allocate funds. Ungarti had me assigned as a special aide to the Council to make recommendations about which directions money should flow."

Aymon knew exactly how dysfunctional the Guild was, and he also knew that Thule was significantly downplaying the role he had in the previous administration, but he smiled and nodded anyway. "Sounds like a lot of responsibility for an apprentice."

"Well, you don't learn without doing," Thule said. "And I wanted to learn everything I could."

"That's an admirable goal. So are you staying on Canerra with the council, or are you moving back on to your family's ship, or are you going with the Oathkeeper?"

"I'll stay on Canerra for now. It's a good central location. I came here to talk to my family about taking their council spot, so I could at least attend the meetings, if I'm going to remain in my position."

"You can't just attend them as an appointee of Wil Vaneik?"

Thule laughed. "No. Like I said, the Guild is a confusing mess. The only reason I could before was because I was Ungarti's apprentice. There's special privileges associated with that, though I don't entirely know why."

Aymon smiled thinly. There were special privileges associated with apprenticeship because apprenticeships were part of the social structure of the Empire. It wasn't just for fun. Thule should know this, but perhaps he was just pretending to be ignorant.

"Did your family give you the council spot?"

"Oh, yes," Thule waved his hand dismissively. "They rarely voted anyway, so I might as well have it, and then they can have an actually useful crew member back on their ship." He sounded weirdly dismissive. Did his family not think he was useful? Aymon wondered what the story was there. In his opinion, any ship should be glad to have a sensitive, even if just to do manual labor that would otherwise require whole crews. After all, the power made lifting and moving things as easy as a thought. But Aymon really didn't want to pry into Thule's personal life. It didn't seem worth it to open that can of worms.

"Why aren't you at Wil's celebration party?" Aymon asked, changing the subject. "He would be happy to have you there."

"I'm not the biggest fan of parties," Thule said. "I don't drink."

"Understandable. Still, might be polite to stick your head in. Don't want to make your new leader mad," Aymon said. He didn't know why he felt compelled to offer this political advice to Thule.

"Yeah, maybe. We're going to meet tomorrow, though, and he's going to tell me all about his plans for the future." Thule smiled broadly. His teeth showed.

"He mentioned something to me about building stations." Aymon said.

"Wil has a lot of grand ideas, I think. He wants to get the council off Canerra. He says he doesn't like paying rent to planets."

"Oh, is that what it is? I'd be happy to give the council a building on Emerri somewhere."

Thule laughed loudly. It hadn't been entirely a joke, but Aymon smiled. He knew the Guild would never, ever want to conduct their inner business on a planet- especially not on the Empire's capital.

"Thank you for the offer, but I think I'll politely decline on behalf of all the council. I can see how that vote would go," Thule said.

"There would be a riot,” Aymon said dryly. “Well, in terms of building stations, I'd be happy to discuss what the options are at some point. If all that Wil wants is an independent meeting place for the Guild, I'm certain that I could manage to pass that through committee."

"Thank you for the offer," Thule said. "Wil has his own ideas of what he's looking for. He'll have to present those to the Guild before we can start working with the Empire on anything."

"Of course, of course. I just wanted to let you both know that the Empire is eager to develop a working relationship with the new Guild leadership."

"I'm sure that we will work together quite well in the future. But for now, I think that the Guild as a whole needs to take some time to itself, to figure out where its priorities really lie."

"Are people that upset after the election?" Aymon asked. He knew it had been bad, but the tone in Thule's voice made him worry that it was worse than he imagined.

"If the Migollens get their way, they will call for a vote of no confidence within the next month or so."

"So soon?"

"The sooner they do it, the better their chances are. I don't think there's a single person who voted today who didn't come out of it feeling like they had compromised on something important," Thule said. "If Migollen can latch on to that feeling before Wil has a chance to demonstrate himself as a good leader, well, it might be over before it begins."

"You don't think you could hold enough people to Wil's side?"

"All I can say is that I didn't love our chances the first time around, and seeing the mess that was made in the Council chamber today, I actively hate our chances if it comes to a second round of voting."

"I see. Is Wil going to try to show what he can do as a leader, then, before it comes to that?"

"I can't say what Wil will do. I know that personally, I will be doing my best to calm some of these tensions. Maybe it's better to let things rest for a little while. But in the end, I'm not the Guildmaster- it's up to Wil to figure out what to do." Thule said this, but Aymon knew he wasn't being completely genuine. He was situating himself as Wil Vaneik's right hand man, and there would be no way that he wasn't going to be heavily involved in the decision making process.

"I certainly hope that you will be able to smooth things out," Aymon said. "Tensions in the Guild aren't good for anyone."

"That is the truest thing that anybody can say," Thule said. "It's too bad that we have to rely on the fickle election process. If only our leaders were unilaterally appointed like you were."

"People keep saying that to me, but I don't think that it would be good for anyone if we did away with democracy completely."

"Then why do you do it?" Thule asked, leaning forward over the table. "What is it that keeps the position of Voice, the highest position, passed down from generation to generation like some sort of celibate king?"

Aymon resisted the urge to laugh at the celibate comment. "Tradition and stability. And the grace of God."

Thule leaned back on his creaking office chair. "Can I say something to you?" he asked.

"Of course."

"I think that it was a mistake for the Empire to give Ungarti apprentices. It's a miracle that we worked together as well as we did."

"You didn't enjoy your apprenticeship?" Aymon asked.

"I'm not saying that, I'm just saying that I wish… I really wish that Ungarti had been a sensitive. And I wish that I could have had the normal apprenticeship that everyone else gets. There was nothing in my personality and Ungarti's that called to each other."

"Not every apprenticeship is picked based on personality," Aymon said. "Not even close to all of them are."

"Maybe." Thule was unconvinced. Aymon wondered why he was bringing this up now; his apprenticeship was over, Vaneik was dead, and he had managed to position himself firmly in the center of the Guild's power. Thule's apprenticeship had turned out rather well for him.

"I'm sorry that the system didn't live up to your expectations," Aymon said after a second. He wasn't sure what else to say. Thule shook his head, changing the topic.

"The past is the past. We're moving on to a bright new future now."

"I think the Guild has many great things ahead of it, if everything goes smoothly," Aymon said.

"Do you approve of the leadership?" Thule asked. "I'd rather just ask this openly than worry about it in silence for the next few years."

Aymon laughed, a dry sound. He wasn't much in the mood for humor, but he appreciated Thule's honesty. "I would have preferred Olms."

"People were right to call her an Imperial panderer, then."

"No, and they would have called you that, too, if you kept running for yourself," Aymon said. "I think she has a good head on her shoulders."

Thule frowned slightly. "And what do you think of Wil Vaneik?"

"I think he has a lot of growing to do before he can replace his father, or his grandfather."

"Is that going to be a problem when you work with him?" Thule asked.

"I'm willing to work with whoever the Guild selects," Aymon said. "It's up to you all to elect the person most suitable for the job." He was implying that Wil Vaneik was not the most suitable candidate, but he suspected that Thule knew very well that Wil had precious few brains to spare.

"I'm glad," Thule said. "Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?"

"I mainly wanted to congratulate you on your new, old position. And if you think that there won't be any any major changes in the way the Guild is running, then I believe I can rest easy for the next little while, at least."

"Yes, I believe you can," Thule said. "Thank you for coming to talk to me about it. Are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"Have a safe journey back to Emerri, then. Tell your apprentices I said hello, will you? They seem like nice people."

"I will. Thank you, Nomar." Aymon stood up, pushing the squeaking chair back across the worn rug. Thule stood as well, and they shook hands across the table. "Don't hesitate to get in contact with me," he said, looking Thule in the eye.

"I'll be on Canerra for the time being, so I'm always in ansible range."

"Good, good."

"Need me to walk you out?" Thule asked.

"No, I believe your little brother is still waiting outside."

Thule laughed again. "He's a good kid. Thank you for coming, First Sandreas." Aymon nodded at him and left the little meeting room. The younger Thule brother was still waiting there. Apparently Halen had been entertaining him with some sort of story while they waited, because he was laughing when Aymon came out into the hallway. He lead them back to the dock of Canerra station. As Aymon and Halen squeezed into the small airlock area, Halen's hand found its way to Aymon's upper arm.

"Nomar killed Vaneik," he sent through the power.