struggled to regain hispoise and retain the formal manner expected of him. He managed abow of acknowledgment.
"I thank the Korental for this information," he said. "I beg permissionto await further word under his protection."
Somehow, he couldn't imagine anyone succeeding in shooting his fatherout of the sky. Kent Michaels had been one of the hottest fighter menin the guard. And even if he hadn't been able to get away from the guy,he'd have taken him down with him. How...? He jerked his attention tothe Korental.
The old man had inclined his head. "My clan is yours during this timeof trouble," he was saying. He looked toward Pete.
* * * * *
"And you are he who would be King of the Oredanu?"
Pete nodded. "I am."
"I see. Your father tells me of certain agreements made many years ago.He tells me of relationships, and of your possible adoption intoanother clan. These things are true?"
Again Pete nodded. "These things are true."
The old man considered him for a few seconds.
"Among the men of the hills," he said, "the simple word of a man may beaccepted. For only a clanless one would think of speaking other thanthe truth. But I am told the men of the low countries have no suchfaith. They require writings, and the speech of many witnesses. This isalso true?"
The question was obviously rhetorical. Pete smiled ruefully, but saidnothing.
The Korental allowed his lips to curl in a half smile.
"These customs of the plainsmen are not unknown to me," he said. "Menof my clan have gone to the low country and have dealt with the men ofthe cities. Even now, members of the Kor-en live in the cities. But onthe clan days, they return to their home, here in the hills." He lookeddown at the matting on the floor.
"Your father mentions a clan book," he continued. "Do you have thiswith you?"
Pete looked at him, then at his father. His expression was suddenlyblank.
Jasu Waern stepped forward. "This book is in a safe place," he said,"in Riandar."
Don closed his eyes for an instant. "Oh, Brother," he told himself,"the lights just went out! I'll bet they're tearing that house up,stone by stone, about now."
The Korental nodded slowly. "How safe?"
"Why," Jasu was thoughtful. "Why, the hiding place is known only tome--and to my son." He bent his head, then looked up, smilingconfidently. "No, it could never be discovered by an outsider."
"The book must be produced," the Korental told him. He resumed his seaton the stool and folded his hands over a short staff.
"We of the clans would be happy to support a legitimate claimant to thethrone of Oredan. We are not happy with the rule of this outlander whohas forced himself into power. But we also recognize the rules and thecustoms of the nobles of the land, who must have proof of everythingbefore they will act. We are not strangers to the conclave, you mustremember. And we are familiar with the power of the outlander." Helooked at Don.
"Tell me," he said, "do you have an interest in this matter?"
Don nodded. "I am not of the clan Waern," he said carefully. "But myinterests have become tied with theirs. Should the Waernu fail, myfather's lands would be lost. And the climate of this land would becomeunhealthy for me--as well as for my father, if he still lives."
"Yes." The Korental regarded him. "I can understand that. We are not asuncivilized as many think us to be. We watched the broadcast of anattack upon your house." He tilted his head.
"Tell me," he added. "The broadcast ended rather suddenly. Theannouncer mentioned technical difficulties. Can you explain this?"
Don relaxed. The formal session was over for a while.
"I took a shot at them," he said, "with a Ghar rifle."
"Ha! They do have a weak spot, then. We'll discuss this later." The oldman looked at Jasu Waern.
"Let us suppose that this young man should ask to be adopted into yourclan. What would your answer be?"
Waern looked confused. "Why---- But he's been giving us----"
The Korental chuckled. "I know. He has some of those characteristicsattributed by legend to clan talu, and to them only." He bent his headfor a moment.
"Suppose I put it this way. When the clans and tribes meet for fullconsideration of your request for support, you will need strongcouncil. And the councilor who presents your cause must be a member ofyour clan, of course. He must speak for you, the head of the Waernu."
Waern looked at him. "I see," he said thoughtfully. "And here, we mayfind strong council." He looked across at Don.
"You would consider this?"
Don paused. This, he thought, was getting serious. It had been fine atfirst. He had just followed instructions from an experienced agent. Andthere had been quite a thrill at being in the middle of things. Butsomehow, everything was flying apart. All at once, he was on his own.
And now--well, clan councilors were pretty responsible individuals.They were supposed to be the experts on law and custom. They weresupposed to put things together--and keep them that way. He couldremember daydreams he'd had once, of helping run a country. Some ofthem had been pretty dramatic. But--well, it was beginning to look likereal trouble. If things went wrong, a councilor could get his neck on ablock for sure.
Then he smiled inwardly. So what of it? How could he get into any moretrouble? He already had the entire Enforcement Corps screaming for hisblood. He'd killed off a Royal Guard projector crew, an entireEnforcement crew, and a few odd news people. They didn't like him. Butthey wanted him. The only way out of this one would be straight ahead.He nodded.
"Of course," he said simply.
The Korental came to his feet and grabbed his staff. Beside his stoolwas a battered tone tube. He swung the staff at the dented wood and adeep tone followed the sharp crack.
He wheeled upon the man who came through the door.
"Tell the Korensahn to come up here," he ordered. "And have him bringfive men with him. We have a clan adoption to witness."
* * * * *
Don flexed his back and hunched his shoulders a little to get thepack-board more comfortably settled. The darn things were heavy. Helooked at the others, who walked along the road. Hang it, they seemedto swing along under their loads as though they were just taking ashort walk before breakfast. He poked at the hard ground with hisstick.
How had he managed to haul himself into this one, anyway? Blasted thinghad all seemed so logical, back there in Korelanni. He reviewed thesteps.
First, it had been essential that the safety and contents of the Bookof the Waernu be determined. Without it, Pete's claim would be so vagueas to be untenable. Especially before a conclave with the regent inactive opposition.
Second, the book would have to be placed in safekeeping where it couldbe immediately produced upon demand. He frowned. That was a tough one.So anyway----
Then, there had come the question. Who was going to get this book andbring it back--or protect it? Pete was too valuable and too vulnerable.He was known, and if any of the police agencies got their hands on him... well, that would be all. So Pete was out.
Jasu Waern? Don grinned to himself. "Skip it," he told himself. Hepoked at the ground again with the stick. It was getting hot. And hewas thirsty.
"Hope that gunk they used to monkey up my complexion doesn't sweatout," he told himself. "That would do it for sure."
He glanced up at the sky. It was getting close to midday. Ahead, hecould see a few men sitting at the side of the road, leaning backagainst their packs. He went forward a few more paces, then selected acomfortable looking bit of moss.
So what had happened? A little guy named Donald Michaels had beendisguised as a clanless mat maker. He leaned back against the pack.And, brother, had they given him a stock of mats to sell. This clansmanin Riandar would be busy for a month, just unloading all these thingsfrom his stock.
He thought of those daydreams he had once had. A king's councilor, hehad imagined, was a highly important,
greatly respected individual. Hehad dreamed of himself, dressed in the ornate formal robes he'd seen inpictures of the old nobility. He'd pictured himself exchanging urbanechatter with other beautifully turned out characters, who hung on hisevery word. He'd seen himself striding between low-bowing lines ofassorted courtiers and soldiery, pausing now and then to tap at thepavement with his jeweled staff. He'd---- Hah!
He looked at the dusty trail. He'd been striding, all right, but thefield reeds didn't look too much like bowing lines of---- Yeah, and hisstaff didn't have too many jewels, either. No pavement, even, and thisfool pack didn't feel much like a finely tailored robe of office. Heshrugged.
"This is no dream," he told himself. "You let one of Stern's people getsuspicious, and you'll find out just how real things can get." Hetwisted around to get the package of food and the water bottle whichdangled from the pack.
Distastefully, he looked at the little packet of powder which was inthe food package. He glanced around quickly, then dumped the powderinto his mouth, quickly gulping water to wash it down.
"Gaah!" he growled, "does it have to taste like the inside of an oldshoe? Oh, well, it'll keep me nice and dark for the next thirty hoursor so." He pulled a strip of dried meat from the package. Maybe thiswill help take the taste out.
He sighed and worked his jaws on the leatherlike substance. It startedto soften a little.
Well, anyway, he knew how to get to the vault where the ancestralvolumes of the Waernu were kept. And he knew just which volume to pickout. Only one small problem remained. How was he going to get into thehouse--and on into the little pond in the inner garden? He grinned ashe thought of Pete's remark.
"It'll be simple for you," he had said enviously. "All you have to dois tell any guard you meet to stand aside and forget he ever saw you.Then you go on down to the vault. Wish I had that ability of yours."
"Sure," he told himself, "hang your clothes on yonder bush--and getright into the water. It's just a simple matter of diving down ten feetand pushing the right rock the right number of times--in the rightdirections. Nothing to it. And then you go through the pressure trap,and there you are. Simple!"
And who was going to guard the pond while he was down there? Suppose hebroke surface right in front of a flock of trigger-happy Enforcers? Hesighed.
"Oh, well," he told himself. "You asked for it. Now, you've got it.Have fun." He looked into the food package and selected a meal cake.
* * * * *
At last, he dusted his fingers and leaned back lazily against his pack,looking into the clear sky. For a few minutes, he simply relaxed, hiseyes fixed on the infinite distance, his mind a near blank.
Other pack-laden men strode past him, intent on their destination. Atlast, a group swung by and the sound of their conversation brought Donout of his semitrance. Behind the group was another, who walked alittle faster than the others, in an apparent effort to catch up. Donpushed himself up with the aid of his staff, drew a few deep breaths,and started pacing along behind him.
Ahead, the group went around a curve in the path. The man ahead of Doncut over into the grass, still intent on catching up with hiscompanions, who were not more than a few meters ahead. Don watched himcasually.
There was no use, he thought, in trying to keep up with this fellow orhis companions. It was too hot. Besides, this was probably a clan groupwho would not welcome company--especially the company of one of noclan.
He started to slow down to a normal pace, then his attention was caughtby movement by a rock just ahead of the other. A small, greenish-brownbody was vaguely outlined in the long grass nearly in the man's path.
Don looked more closely. The animal was heavy-bodied, with rather shortforelegs. Powerful hind legs were tucked under the body, twitching alittle now. The forelegs pawed slightly at the grass and the flat, widehead probed out, extending toward the approaching man.
"Hey!" yelled Don. "Look out. Gersal!" He started forward in a halfrun, his staff poised for a blow.
The other jumped sideways but the furry body grazed his leg and spun,claws and teeth working furiously. The man looked down and screamed.
Don's staff came down in a chopping blow and the animal bounced outonto the open path. Its paws raised little spurts of dust as it spunabout and prepared for another spring.
Again, Don's staff swung down. The gersal flopped about for an instantin the dust of the path, then faced toward him, an angry scream comingfrom its throat.
Again, it tried to get its balance for a spring, but one hind legdragged limply. Again, the staff swung, tumbling the beast over in thedust.
There was a flurry of paws and the gersal struggled up to its haunches,then sat up, its brilliant red eyes fixed on Don. It stretched outshort forelegs in seeming supplication, then batted futilely at thepunching staff end.
Disregarding the pleading attitude of the beast, Don continued to punchat the squirming body till it was obvious that no vestige of life couldremain. Then, he looked at the other man.
The fellow had managed to get to the center of the path before he hadcollapsed. He half sat, half lay against his pack, breathing raggedly.Sweat stood out on his forehead. He looked at Don vaguely, making anobvious effort to focus his eyes.
"Thanks ... Friend," he mumbled. "You tried---- Oooh!" He closed hiseyes and stiffened, his legs stretching out and his back arching.
The men who walked ahead had been attracted by the commotion. They cameback and one jerked off his pack and bent over the man in the path. Helooked over at the dead animal, then glanced up at Don.
"How many times was he bitten?"
"I doubt if he got more than one," Don told him.
The other nodded and looked searchingly at the victim. Then, he reachedinto his clothing and removed a small packet. He opened it and pulledthe protective cover off a syrette.
"There's a small chance, then," he remarked. He poked the needle of thesyrette into the sufferer's forearm and squeezed the tube.
The stricken man moved convulsively and opened one eye. His companionnodded.
"You might make it, Delm," he said cautiously. "Only one bite, and wegot to you soon." He nodded.
"If you can hang on for just five minutes, you'll walk the trailagain." He looked up at Don.
"That was quick action," he said. "You may have saved our clanbrother." He looked down at the torn place on the man's leg.
"A couple of more bites, and he'd surely be dead by now." He got to hisfeet.
"Whom do we have to thank?"
Don looked down at the path in apparent discomfort.
"I am Kalo," he said, "of the mountains."
The other's eyes clouded. "Oh," he said tonelessly. He looked down athis companion, then back at the dead animal.
"Well," he said slowly, "we are grateful, Clanless One. Go your way inpeace. We will take care of our brother."
Don started to turn away. "I hope he----"
The other nodded curtly. "The gersal's poison is strong," he said. "Butsoon we shall see. May your way be safe." He turned back to hispatient.
Don turned away and went around the curve in the path. Well, maybe theKorental had been right, he thought. So long as they kept frombothering others, the clanless ones weren't molested. And theycertainly didn't form any associations that might be embarrassing lateron. He glanced back.
"Hope that guy lives through it," he told himself, "but I'm glad Idon't have to put up with a three-day celebration. Haven't got thetime."
In the distance, he could see the walls and towers of Riandar. The walkwas nearly over now. He stepped his pace up a little, then slowed downagain. There was no sense in coming through the gate all hot andsweaty, he reminded himself. It would be way out of character.
* * * * *
It was funny, Don thought, that he hadn't remembered this store whenthe Korental had described its location. Probably it was the use of theword "shop." This was a large department store. He'
d done some shoppinghere at one time or another, himself. He started to go by the front,then a display in one of the windows attracted his attention. Hepaused.
Someone had designed a tasteful array of furniture, set up like anobleman's bedroom suite. One could, without too much effort, imaginehimself standing on the enclosed walkway of a palace, facing away fromthe inner garden. The furniture, he noted, was of excellent quality. Infact, when he started refinishing the ranch, maybe he'd come in here.He glanced at the display floor. The mats were similar in design tothose in his pack.
Suddenly, he remembered his own present status and stepped back, awayfrom the window. Simple mat makers don't concern themselves withexamining displays that would cost more than they'd make in a lifetime.This window was strictly for people who could afford large platters ofluxury. He turned away, looking for another, less elaborate entrance.
Down the street, at the corner of the building, he found aninconspicuous door. A brass plate indicated that this was theemployees' entrance to the Blue Mountain Mercantile Company's offices.Another plate indicated that the delivery entrance was around thecorner. Don shrugged and went into the door.
He found himself in a narrow hallway. Before him was a stairway, itslowest step blocked by a light chain. To his right, a man sat in asmall cubby.
"You're in the wrong door," he said expressionlessly.