"I know," Don told him. "I'm from the Kor-en. I'd like to see Korentona."
The man frowned fleetingly. "Tell you," he said casually, "maybe it would be better if you made your delivery right now. Then you can come back later on."
Don examined him for a moment. "You mean something is——"
"That's right." The man nodded. "Go around to the receiving room. Drop your pack, and come back—say in about an hour." He glanced upward as footsteps sounded on the stairs.
"Oh, oh," he added softly. "Keep quiet and let me handle this."
A heavy-set man came down the stairs. He looked sharply at Don, taking in his appearance and the details of his pack.
"What's this, Mora?" he demanded.
The timekeeper shrugged casually. "Just some porter," he said negligently. "Can't read too well, I guess. Got in the wrong door. I was telling him where to drop his pack."
"Oh?" The other looked at Don more closely. "Looks like another load of those mats from the Morek. Look, Fellow, you wouldn't be from one of those clans, would you now?"
Don shook his head. "I am Kalo," he said, "of the mountains. I have no clan. I make mats. And twice a year I come here to Riandar to sell them."