Part 21 (1/2)

He pointed to himself, pausing.

”Me? Good grief, I'm not even in this. I'm just a hired hand--not even a member of your clan. Before I could open my mouth, I'd have to be adopted into your clan and designated as a clan councilor. Even then, the tal would have to open the discussion.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

”Oh, I can talk to the Korental as an individual who wants to get help from some of his people for a hunt, sure. And we can then arrange an exchange of goods. That's between him and me. But if I tried to talk to him on this affair, he'd throw me out of the village.” He rubbed his cheek 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 other person, monarch or no--throwing you anywhere you didn't want to go. I'd say the throwing would be the other way.”

Don laughed softly. ”Oh, that.” He shook his head. ”Well, let's just say 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, then shook out the thong. For a moment, he stood, glancing across the end of the valley, then he wound the thong about the stick, securing it at the end with a half-hitch.

Again, he looked in the direction of Don and Pete. Then he held up the stick 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 him stood 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 curiously. There was that odd form of address again.

Had he suddenly come to be regarded as clanless? What was this? He bowed.

”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 father may yet be alive, so we cannot regard you as clan head. But as your father has not been found you may, therefore, be clan head in fact. The men 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 is a long gorge, and deep.”

”Dad?” Don blinked. ”Shot down?”

The Korental nodded. ”Two days since,” he said. ”A flier of the Royal Guard fired upon him and his flier weaved and dropped into the gorge.

No man saw its landing place.” He paused thoughtfully.