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 to me—and to my son." He bent his head, then looked up, smiling confidently. "No, it could never be discovered by an outsider."
"The book must be produced," the Korental told him. He resumed his seat on the stool and folded his hands over a short staff.
"We of the clans would be happy to support a legitimate claimant to the throne of Oredan. We are not happy with the rule of this outlander who has forced himself into power. But we also recognize the rules and the customs of the nobles of the land, who must have proof of everything before they will act. We are not strangers to the conclave, you must remember. And we are familiar with the power of the outlander." He looked 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 my interests have become tied with theirs. Should the Waernu fail, my father's lands would be lost. And the climate of this land would become unhealthy for me—as well as for my father, if he still lives."
"Yes." The Korental regarded him. "I can understand that. We are not as uncivilized as many think us to be. We watched the broadcast of an attack upon your house." He tilted his head.
"Tell me," he added. "The broadcast ended rather suddenly. The announcer mentioned technical difficulties. Can you explain this?"