"Why, that is all places," explained Jak laboriously. "All territories are but part of Tizathy. It is the Land of the Ancients, over which ruled Jarg and Taamuz, Ibrim and—"
"I see," said Steve softly. "I understand now. It is the whole, one-time American nation. Don't you see, Chuck? 'My country ... Tizathy....'"
Jak said, "Yes. You know the Song, Steve?"
"I know it." Duane's forehead creased. "But how is it you languish in a Sinnaty prison, Jak?"
Jak shrugged. "I was restless. I wandered in search of—well, I know not what. Perhaps a territory where there were no Daans. I was captured here, questioned. I could not account for myself, so—here I am. Thus it was with many of the prisoners. Rodrik ... Pawl ... Alan of Washtun."
"But were you free to return to your homeland, Jak, could you rouse others like yourself to come northward?"
"Perhaps. But why?"
"For the purpose of—" began Steve.
He did not finish his sentence. For at that moment came a frightened messenger from the outer chamber. "It is the Daans, O ruler!" he told Steve fearfully. "They are come to take you for the Questioning."