"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. "Nor were there flames." Don glanced about the hut. It was the same place he had come to many times before, when he wanted to get beaters. It was familiar. And yet it was now a place of strangeness. Suddenly, he felt rootless--disassociated from people. He struggled to regain his poise and retain the formal manner expected of him. He managed a bow of acknowledgment. "I thank the Korental for this information," he said. "I beg permission to await further word under his protection." Somehow, he couldn't imagine anyone succeeding in shooting his father out of the sky. Kent Michaels had been one of the hottest fighter men in 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 to the Korental. The old man had inclined his head. "My clan is yours during this time of 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 into another 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 be accepted. For only a clanless one would think of speaking other than the truth. But I am told the men of the low countries have no such faith. They require writings, and the speech of many witnesses. This is also true?" The question was obviously rhetorical. Pete smiled ruefully, but said nothing. The Korental allowed his lips to curl in a half smile. "These customs of the plainsmen are not unknown to me," he said. "Men of my clan have gone to the low country and have dealt with the men of the cities. Even now, members of the Kor-en live in the cities. But on the clan days, they return to their home, here in the hills." He looked down at the matting on the floor. "Your father mentions a clan book," he continued. "Do you have this with you?" Pete looked at him, then at his father. His expression was suddenly blank. Jasu Waern stepped forward. "This book is in a safe place," he said, "in Riandar."