“It is not mine,” replied the Jkak. “It would be an impertinence to pry into your affairs without an invitation. Now, with regard to yourselves. I must see that you go to Hoormoori and pay your respects to our Rorka. Hoormoori is the chief place in this world of ours; it is there that our Rorka has his palace.”
“Rorka?” asked Mavis “What is that?”
“Our Rorka rules over the whole of Keemar.”
“Have you only one Rorka or King over the whole of Keemar?” asked Sir John.
“Why, of course. Why should we have more?” asked Mirasu smiling. “Keemar is one world—with one Rorka. Then we have one hundred Jkaks, and one thousand Moritous—that is enough, surely, to govern a world?”
“Are you only one nation then?”
“Naturally. We are all Keemarnians—just one great nation, divided into many families. We all speak the same language—all worship in the same fashion Mitzor, the Great White Glory and Tower of Strength, and all live in peace, friendship, and harmony, one with another. But now my friends, strangers though you are, you are welcome here. I will put at your disposal houses and serving men.”
“We possess nothing,” said Sir John. “We have no property, no valuables—nothing but the Argenta. How shall we repay your kindness to us?”
“Repay?” said the Jkak, “nay, that is another, word I know not the meaning of.”
“But,” began Alan.