He looked for a fleeting instant at the inconspicuous monitor speaker on the wall.
"As matters stand now, the tribes might find it impossible to decide on any of the claimants. As you said, there is no truly clear line. King Weronar died childless, you remember, and his queen didn't designate a foster son." He shrugged.
"Well, we shall see," he added. "Now, suppose we go back a little, Michaels. You said there was some opposition from the colonists to the tax reforms of eight twelve. Can you go a little more into detail on that?"
Don touched his face. He'd been afraid of that. Somehow, neither the book nor the lectures really jibed with some of the things he'd heard his father talk about. Something about the whole situation just didn't make full sense. He shrugged mentally. Well....
The door opened and a student runner came into the room. Don watched him walk up to Mr. Barnes with some relief. Maybe, after the interruption, someone else would be picked to carry on.
The youngster came to the desk and handed a slip to the instructor, who read it, then looked up.
"Michaels," he said, "you seem to have some business at the self-government office. You may be excused to take care of it."
Al Wells looked up as Don entered the office.
"What's the—— Oh, Michaels. Got some questions for you on that row you stopped in the locker room yesterday."