andbits of it lay strewn through a gaping hole in the living room wall.Stucco littered the narrow border of shrubbery around the house,whitening the green of the leaves.
And a twisted bit of metal caught his attention. Obviously, it was partof a flier. He shook his head and looked at the sky over the westernmountains.
"Quite a blast," he said. "Look, Don, are you sure anything's coming toback us up? A couple more of these and we'll be standing in an openfield."
Michaels reached up to stroke his face. "Right now, I'm not too sureabout anything," he admitted. "Except that next time they try to combus over, they'll take a few less chances." He frowned.
"Mr. Masterson was pretty certain about things, but----"
He spun around and walked toward the flier port.
"You know, I think we'd better play it safe," he went on. "Right now,we've got clear air. That explosion put everything around here on theground, but hard. But that won't last. Stern's people will be flockingaround here in a few minutes to see what went on. We better not bearound when they arrive. Go get your father."
He pulled the flier door open.
"I'll have this thing warmed and ready to flit by the time you get backup here. Make it fast, will you?"
Pete had already dived down an escape slot. As Don started through hispre-flight routine, he reappeared. Jasu Waern followed him.
"What happened?" The older man looked around the littered courtyard,then at the flier which Don had pushed out of its cover. His eyeswidened.
"But I thought they would use an inductor."
"They tried," Don told him. "Come on. Get in." He looked anxiously athis instrument panel.
"Little risky," he muttered, "taking off so fast. Synchs and generatorshaven't had time to stabilize. But it beats letting them get in rangefor some more target practice."
He eased a lever toward him and watched the pointers on a dial as theflier lifted. The red needle started to oscillate and he reachedquickly to adjust a knob. The oscillation stopped. He looked overside.
"Hm-m-m," he said, "so far, so good. Well, let's have at it."
He reached out and pulled a handle toward him, watching the needles.They remained steady and he nodded and pulled another control towardhim, then gripped the control wheel.
The flier leaped into the air and surged toward the mountains.
Don sighed and made a minute adjustment on the synchro knob.
"Well, we haven't flipped yet," he said. "We'll stay on deck all theway. Not such a good target that way. Take a look back there, Pete. Seeanything in the air to the east?"
"Yeah." Pete had been looking back. "There's plenty back there. Andthey're in a hurry."
Don jerked his head around, then glanced at the mountains before them.
"So are we. They built this thing to win races, not lose them. Hopethey knew what they were doing." He pulled a panel lever all the wayback and the flier surged forward, pressing them back into their seats.
"Hang on," he said. "Some of these corners are going to be tight."
The ship swung into a narrow valley between two hills, bucking andtwisting as Don worked the control back and forth. As a high cliffloomed up in front of them, he pulled the flier up, then around in ascreaming turn. A second later, they almost touched the tips of treesas they swung around the shoulder of a steep hill. The flier droppedabruptly, seeking the floor of a gorge, then swung violently as itfollowed a swift flowing stream.
Don guided it into a side gorge, then suddenly pulled up, to jumpthrough a notch in the surrounding hills. For an instant, the flierpaused, hovering in the air over a deep, wide valley, then it droppedlike a stooping falcon, sweeping sideways at the end of its drop, tocome to rest under an overhanging rock formation. The pilot snapped offswitches and leaned back.
"We've got a small-sized walk ahead of us," he said, "but it's throughsome pretty dense growth and we'll be invisible from the air." Hegrinned.
"The way I dove into that first canyon, anyone with detectors on mewould assume I was heading for the Doer--if he knew the country fairlywell. Hope that's the way they know it--just about that well."
He climbed out of the ship, holding the door open.
"Come on, Pete," he ordered, "give me a hand and we'll shove this thingback in the cave so it won't be too easy to spot."
Jasu Waern climbed out after his son.
"I shall help, too," he said resignedly. "Which of the clans do wejoin?"
Don put a shoulder against the side of the flier. "Kor-en," he said. "Iknow them pretty well. Matter of fact, the Korenthal wanted to adopt meat one time. Dad talked him out of it."
Waern nodded. "The Kor-en are known to us," he murmured. "Possibly----"He added his weight to the pressure on the flier's side.
They pushed the machine far back into the cavern under the rock, thencamouflaged its smooth lines with brush and rubble. Finally, theywalked over the rough ground to a nearby thicket. Don paused, lookingup. Then he pointed.
"There they are," he said, "in a search pattern. Guess they got adetector flash on us when we jumped the ridge." He shrugged. "Well,they've got a tough hunt now. We'll detour through that line of treesto keep out of the open."
He jerked his head, to point.
"There's a narrow break in the cliffs way over there. When we getthrough that, we'll come into Korelanni."
* * * * *
Halfway through the narrow crevice, Don stopped and turned aside, toenter a narrow alcove that had been carved out of the rock. Hanginginside was a long tube of wood. Don rubbed his hands vigorously on themoss which grew on the rocks, then stroked the tube.
A tone resonated from the chamber, growing louder as Don continued tostroke the tube. After a few seconds, an answering note of differentpitch could be heard. Don nodded and stepped back into the path.
"It's all right," he said. "They'll meet us at the head of the path."He smiled.
"This way, we don't have someone dropping rocks on our heads."
Pete looked up at the towering cliffs which almost joined overhead.
"You mean they've got guards up there?"
"Always," Don told him. "Day and night. Right now, they're at peacewith everybody, but they never let their guard down. We'll have areception committee waiting for us." He started striding up the steeppath.
At the head of the chasm, five men waited for them. In their hands,they held sticks about two feet long. At the end of each stick was athong, with a flexible leather pad which could hold a fair sized stone.Don bowed in the direction of one of the group.
"I know you, Korendwar," he said.
The other bowed. "Michaels," he said. "I know you. And these?"
Don looked at him, his thoughts going into overdrive. The form ofaddress was all wrong. Always before, he had been Donald, of the clanMichaels--they abbreviated it to Michaelsdon. But what had gone wrongnow?
He tensed a little, then relaxed. At least, it was a friendly greeting.One does not "know" an enemy. He extended a hand toward Jasu Waern.
"I bring the Waerntal, Jasu. And his son, Waernpeto," he said.
The other nodded. "The men of Kor-en know the Waernu," he saidnoncommitally. "You want dealings with the Korental?"
Don nodded. "The Waerntal would discuss clan affairs with theKorental." he said. "I but serve as guide."
"It is well. You and this clansman may rest by the wells." Korendwarturned toward Jasu Waern, gesturing with his sling.
"I will conduct you to the Korental, your honor."
* * * * *
Pete leaned against a mossy bank and watched one of the village womenas she raised a clay pot from a well.
"Tell me, Don, why did you push my father forward to consult with theKorental? Why didn't you go ahead and deal with him yourself? You saidyou knew him. Father doesn't."
"That's just the point," smiled Don. "I do know him. And I know hispeople, and his way of thinking." He waved a hand to indicate theenti
re collection of huts.
"These people are about as formal as you can get, when business is athand. Did you notice the way I talked to Korendwar? Migosh, I've huntedwith that guy, rolled around in the dirt with him when we were kids,know him about as well as you'd know a brother. But he was on guard.And, friend, you don't get informal with a clansman when he's on guard.
"This is just like a little nation, and the Korental is just as surelya ruler as any king of a huge country," he went on. "Even more so thanmost."
He fixed his eyes on the council hut, across the narrow end of thevalley.
"Everyone in his clan is his child--symbolically, at least. He tellsthem what to do. He tells them what to plant and when--and how much. Hetells them when to hunt, and where. Governs their lives down to somepretty fine points. I mean, he's as absolute as an absolute monarch canget.
"And if you want to get along with an absolute monarch, you treat himon his terms." He glanced at his companion.
"Oh, I don't mean this guy's a tyrant or despot," he added quickly."These people are pretty proud. They wouldn't like a dictator--as such.But the Korental doesn't need force to govern his people. They dothings his way because ... well, it's a matter of tradition. It's theonly honorable way to do things. See what I mean?"
Pete shook his head doubtfully and Don frowned.
"Pete, your family was originally a mountain clan. I should think you'dknow these customs better than I do."
Again, Pete shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said slowly, "but I don't.You see, my father and my uncle thought it would be better if I learnedthe customs and culture of your people and of the plainsmen. And theythought I should be familiar with the ways of the great cities."
He looked across the village at the great tree which shaded the councilhut.
"You see," he continued, "my great uncle was king. And he had nochildren. He was getting old and it was agreed that if he diedchildless, his queen would then adopt me. And, of course, I would thenbe head of the Onaru, and king of Oredan." He smiled wanly.
"The agreement was not made public, of course. And the queen no longerlives. But signatures and agreement are recorded at Oreladar. And theyappear in the Book of the Waernu, against my name. References in theBook of the Waernu are so arranged that I may be quickly removed, to beplaced in an already prepared place in the Book of the Onaru, if thetime should come. This and the fact that my mother was the daughter ofa brother of the king, places me in the line of kings of Oredan." Heshrugged.
"Especially since the king did, in fact, die childless.
"And this, in my father's eyes, meant that I should know of the plains,of the cities, and of the galactics, since there, he said, lies thepower and wealth of the present day Oredan."
Don shrugged. "Wealth, maybe," he said quietly. "I'm not so sure aboutthe power. The pressure of History is a very real thing, and I seem toremember noticing that every time some king has gotten into a jam withone of the other kingdoms or with his own nobles, he's had to raise theclans. And there have been times when that wasn't easy."
Pete nodded. "I know. The Onaru took the throne two hundred years ago,simply because the clans withheld support from the Chalenu--the OldLine."
"Yeah." Don picked idly at the bark of a tree. "And Stern's been tryingto get the clans into hot water ever since he took over."
Pete looked at him for a moment, then looked about the village.
There was no orderly arrangement of houses, as could be found in town.Wherever someone had found a suitable spot, there he had embedded hispoles. And there, he had erected walls, daubed them with clay from thenearby stream, and formed long, limber wands from the thickets intoarched roofs, to be covered with long grass from the valley. Therewere isolated houses, and there were tight little groups of houses.Possibly, Pete thought, family groups.
No streets existed here, though generations of sandaled feet had beatenthe ground into winding paths which led from houses to wells, and fromwells to fields, and to the surrounding forest.
And there was no litter, as could be found in any city. No fallen twigor leaf was allowed to remain on the ground of the village. Grass andmoss grew on unused ground and on hillsides, but before each hut, thegrowth gave way to the forecourt and the small garden.
Here and there, a bank by a path had been reinforced with clay cementedstones and over these grew the moss, to soften the hard outlines of theworks of man. Here and there, a small, neat pile of material forbuilding lay, to remind the onlooker that this was a still growingcommunity. Pete leaned back.
"It's quite a bit different from the plains," he said, "and not as Ithought it would be. I always thought the hillmen were wild anduncultured." He turned toward Don.
"But you still haven't really answered my question. Why is it my fatherhas to talk to the Korental--alone?"
Don lifted a shoulder. "Simple enough," he said. "Your father is thehead of your branch of the family right now. It's a pretty small clanbranch--just the two of you, but he's the clan head--the Waerntal.Right?"
"I suppose so. Yes." Pete thought a moment. "Actually, I guess he's talover more than just the two of us. We are the senior line of thefamily."
"Well, then. This is clan business. Your father wants to advance amember of his clan as a claimant for the throne of Oredan. He needs thesupport of other clans to do this. And this is important clan business.See?"
Pete rubbed at an ear. "I begin to get the idea, I guess, but it justdoesn't make too much sense. He could have you speak for him. Or Icould plead my own case, for that matter, couldn't I?"
"Makes all kinds of sense." Don shook his head. "Look, you can't talkto the Korental--not on even terms--not now. You're just a clansman. Ifhe accepts you as king-to-be, then you'll be a sort of super clan head.Then you'll be able to discuss policy with him. But even then, only asan equal--never as a superior. He actually acknowledges no superior."He pointed to himself, pausing.
"Me? Good grief, I'm not even in this. I'm just a hired hand--not evena member of your clan. Before I could open my mouth, I'd have to beadopted into your clan and designated as a clan councilor. Even then,the tal would have to open the discussion.
"Oh, I can talk to the Korental as an individual who wants to get helpfrom some of his people for a hunt, sure. And we can then arrange anexchange of goods. That's between him and me. But if I tried to talk tohim on this affair, he'd throw me out of the village." He rubbed hischeek thoughtfully.
"And, come to think of it, if he thought you'd asked me to intervene,after he'd tossed me out, he'd probably feed you to the Choyneu. That,he'd regard as a selling of honor."
Pete looked at him quizzically. "I can just see him--or any otherperson, monarch or no--throwing you anywhere you didn't want to go. I'dsay the throwing would be the other way."
Don laughed softly. "Oh, that." He shook his head. "Well, let's justsay I don't think I'd care to try it out on a whole clan at once.Things might get a little complicated."
* * * * *
A short, heavily muscled man came out of the council hut. In his hands,he held his slender sling-stick. He paused as he got to the door, thenshook out the thong. For a moment, he stood, glancing across the end ofthe valley, then he wound the thong about the stick, securing it at theend with a half-hitch.
Again, he looked in the direction of Don and Pete. Then he held up thestick and beckoned to them.
Don pushed himself away from the bank.
"Well," he said, "here we go. They've come to some sort of a decision."
They walked through the door of the hut, stopping as they came inside.An old man sat on a hide-covered stool, facing the entrance. Near himstood Jasu Waern. The old man got to his feet.
"Waernpeto?" he asked.
Pete stepped forward and bowed. "I am Peto of the clan Waern," he said.
"It is good." The Korental nodded briefly, then looked at Don.
"And Michaels. I know you," he added.
Don looked at him curiousl
y. There was that odd form of address again.Had he suddenly come to be regarded as clanless? What was this? Hebowed.
"I know you, Korental," he said formally.
The old man before him nodded.
"We are not now sure how to address you," he explained. "Your fathermay yet be alive, so we cannot regard you as clan head. But as yourfather has not been found you may, therefore, be clan head in fact. Themen of clan Mal-ka have joined us in searching the gorge of the Gharu,where his flier was shot down. Thus far, nothing has been found. It isa long gorge, and deep."
"Dad?" Don blinked. "Shot down?"
The Korental nodded. "Two days since," he said. "A flier of the RoyalGuard fired upon him and his flier weaved and dropped into the gorge.No man saw its landing place." He paused thoughtfully.
"Nor were there flames."
Don glanced about the hut. It was the same place he had come tomany times before, when he wanted to get beaters. It was familiar.And yet it was now a place of strangeness. Suddenly, he feltrootless--disassociated from people. He