Don nodded. "It could be just a build-up," he said. "Did you get that thrust about the tribes?"
Jasu Waern cleared his throat. "You mean those four are perhaps——"
"I doubt if those four ever lived," Don told him. "At least not with those names. If we have visitors, they'll be more official—and a lot more dangerous." He paused.
"Wish Dad had come back. I'd like to get you off to the hills. Not so comfortable, perhaps, but it would be safer." He looked at the ceiling.
"Of course, with all those fliers chasing around right now," he added, "it might be complicated."
Pete looked at him curiously. "One thing I can't figure, Don," he remarked. "Why didn't you head right on into the hills from Riandar?"
Don spread his hands. "Intended to, hang it," he said. "They loused me up. Remember the dipsy-doodle I turned in that box canyon?"
"Think I'd forget?" Pete grinned. "Nearly got a busted head out of that one."
"Yeah. Well, I'd planned to jump the ridge and go on over to a clan village I know. We nearly caught it right there."
"We did?"