under his arm and laid it on the tablebeside Stern.
"I here present the book of my ancestors," he went on. "In it, at theplace marked, is the contract of the last lawful king of Oredan, and ofhis queen. I was designated to be their son."
Stern nodded. "It is well," he said. "We shall consider this matter."
He opened the book and glanced at the script and the two signaturestamps. Then he jerked back dramatically, staring at the book insimulated consternation. He bent forward again, for a closer look.
"This is most strange," he said in a low, wondering tone. He shook hishead.
"These looked authentic in reproduction," he murmured. "But now?" Heglanced at Pete and was forced to repress a smile.
The expression on the Waern boy's face was perfect. He had him! Helooked about the room, then gazed sternly at the claimant.
"I find it almost impossible to believe," he said coldly, "that thereis a person in this realm who would have the temerity to bring such adocument to my attention for serious consideration."
He stabbed a finger out to point at the book and fixed Pete with anaccusing stare.
"I find this a complete forgery," he said harshly. "Your claim is, ofcourse, denied and declared fraudulent." He stepped around the rail, totower over the boy.
"You will, therefore, acknowledge your crime in writing." He reachedout and took a pen from the table.
"You will now write the words, 'forgery, no genuine contract,' overthese pages. And you will sign your name." He paused, thrusting the pentoward Pete.
"You will then----"
* * * * *
The warden stepped forward.
"Pete," he said sharply. "Listen to me!"
Stern looked up in annoyance. The Waern boy had started to take thepen. Now, he stopped and jerked around.
"You will listen to nothing this man tells you," ordered the warden."You will do nothing he asks. Do you understand that?"
The boy nodded. "Thanks, Don," he said. "He almost got me that time."
Stern glared angrily at the warden.
"You will go back to your place," he ordered. "Do not attempt tointerfere again."
Incredulously, he watched as the warden shook his head.
"Sorry, fellow," he heard the man say, "but that doesn't work on me.And it won't work on Pete--not again. Now suppose we do this thingright."
Stern examined the man more closely.
He was larger than the Waern boy, and more strongly built. But he wasvery little older--and definitely no giant. He was at least fifteencentimeters shorter than Stern himself, and much lighter. Looked, Sterndecided, like a galactic. He felt a surge of hatred.
No little man could dare defy him!
He tilted his head a little and looked downward into the warden's eyes.
"Your duties are to protect the person of this boy, so long as he is alegitimate claimant for the throne," he said contemptuously, "not toadvise him. Your presence here is merely required by tradition, not byreal need."
He smiled coldly. "And, since his claim is obviously nonexistent, youhave no standing here. Leave this palace at once!" He pointedimperiously at the door, then turned his attention to Pete again.
"You will write as I told you. Now!"
"Ignore him, Pete." The warden raised his weapon a little.
"Name's Michaels," he told Stern conversationally. "Donald Michaels.You've met my father already." He moved the long weapon again.
"You sent some of your people up to our place a while ago. I destroyedthem with this." He jerked his head downward at the barrel of theweapon.
"Brought it along with me when I came down here. It's quite capable oftaking you apart, I assure you." He moved a hand on the stock.
"And if you attempt any more of that unlawful coercion," he added,"that's just what will happen. I'll protect my claimant, you see."
He tilted his head, to indicate the other clan wardens.
"These men know what is supposed to be done here as well as you and I,"he added. "We all know this is a purely formal meeting. The validity ofthese documents has already been determined."
"As Prime Minister, I----"
"It is no part of your duty here to rule on the validity of anydocument," Michaels interrupted. "And it certainly isn't proper toattempt in any manner to persuade a claimant to abandon his claim. Nothere. These things are proper only before the full conclave."
"Are you trying to tell me my duties?" Stern looked incredulous. Thiswas not going well at all!
"I am doing just that," Don told him evenly. "Apparently someone hasto." He glanced around the room.
"Are there any other claimants present?"
Stern felt drained of energy. What was this? The father had beenimpossible to control--like Gorham. Did the son combine other powerswith that resistance? Where had these Michaels people come from? Hetried once more.
"There are no valid claimants present," he snapped sharply. "I----"
"That's not exactly what I asked," Don told him. "But we'll take it asmeaning that Pete's the only claimant. So, I demand that you follow theritual and escort him to the conclave." He waved the weapon.
"Come on. We've been held up here long enough. Let's go."
* * * * *
Suddenly, Stern felt powerless. This whole thing had fallen apart. Heshould never have come in here. He should have just taken off--as hehad intended. In space, he would have been safe, at least. Here? Hebent his head resignedly.
He could try one more thing. This was a young man--inexperienced.Maybe----
"You will precede us," he said.
"No," Don told him, "I don't think I will. I think it will be better ifI leave that honor to one of the other wardens. I want to be able tosee you." He jerked his head at a man who stood to the left of thedoor.
"Will you honor us, Mernar-dar?"
The other tilted his head. "It is I who am honored," he said. He turnedand went out the door.
Dazedly, Stern walked forward, pacing with the claimant. He paused ashe got to the porch. Michaels was still standing inside the door.
"Right here," he said coldly, "we shall return to a very old custom. Ishall remain, to protect the rear. And I shall watch the entireprogress of the advance to the Throne Room." He smiled grimly.
"You are, I suppose, familiar with the range of a medium duty blaster?"
Stern nodded. "I've seen them operate," he admitted.
"Good." Don nodded. "This thing will outrange them a little. I'll haveyou in my sights all the way. Remember that, and don't do anything thatmight cause me to fear for Pete's safety."
The wardens spread out, to fan out before Stern and Pete. Acting thepart of scouts before a column, they started across the wide lawn,toward the Throne Room.
Stern watched them for a moment, then took Pete's arm. Together, theywalked down the long flight of steps. For a moment, they paused at thepath, as ritual demanded, for a signal to continue.
Stern allowed his thoughts to race.
There was no question about it now, he thought. This boy would beupheld by the conclave--if he got before it. And if he were nowsustained, an ex-regent named Stern would find himself in very gravetrouble indeed.
This was much worse than that mob in Tonar City. He glanced toward thegate in the wall ahead and to his right.
Just beyond that door lay his yacht--and safety. If he could onlyfigure out a way----
* * * * *
Across the lawn, a warden was making the signal for the advance. Theway, then, was ritually clear. Stern stepped forward, still glancingtoward that door.
They would pass within just a few meters of it. Now, where was thatMichaels?
Suddenly, he realized he could never hope to get out his hidden weapon,find Michaels with it, and vaporize him. Not until the other had plentyof time to release a beam of his own. He shuddered, remembering thedestruction that weapon had caused up in
the Morek.
At this range, even the narrowest blaster beam would fan out enough todestroy a man's entire body. And that thing, whatever it was----
Suddenly, he smiled. That was it! It would spread out too much.
He flipped out the little khroal from its hiding place in his sleeveand placed it against Pete's back. With his other hand, he gripped theboy around the throat. Then he turned, seeking to locate Michaels. Thefellow was out of sight.
Probably, Stern thought, he had remained in the shadow of the hugepillars of the porch--or even inside the Blue Palace itself.
His whole body itched. The man might fire