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Chaos take those Imperial schools anyway!
It was all their fault, Thark growled to himself, increasing his paceas the sleek lines of his ship came into view. Not even the prospectof flying the Prowler lightened his mood this time. The Chaos-lovingschools had done too much! They were fine for the unTalented, likehumans and now Traiti, but they had probably precipitated a disasterhere on Irschcha. Their damnable stress on Imperial rather thanplanetary allegiance was to blame; it had deprived him of the strongestTalent to appear in many years, Corina Losinj—and it would cost Corinaher life soon, if it hadn't already.
He was practically running toward his small ship now, dignity forgottenin the need for haste. "Dammit all to hell!" he burst out, the humancurse seeming oddly appropriate under the circumstances. If the TerranEmpire hadn't discovered Irschcha for another century, or if Chearhadn't chosen to affiliate with it, none of this would have had tohappen.
As Thark neared the ship, he forced his thoughts and emotions undercontrol, away from such useless speculations. He was High Adept of theWhite Order now, not Chear, and it was up to him to correct Chear'serror. His calm voice did not betray his feelings when he returned thesalute of the gray-kilted Sanctioner standing at the foot of theboarding ramp.
"Greetings, Master Thark," the Sanctioner said.
"Greetings, Underofficer Jamar. What is Prowler's status?"
"Senior Adepts Valla and Kainor are already on board, as is the rest