There were more objections outside.
“What do you take us for?” said Hern. “We could have had the King to the top of the Black Mountains by now if we wanted. I swear to you we are not going to harm a hair of his head or a hair of his soul’s head. But I must speak to the King alone. Now move away, all of you.”
Feet shuffled off, from all round the tent. It must have been every Heathen in the place. Hern peeked a look round to make sure they had all gone, and then he came back inside. Kars Adon lifted his chin and gave him a haughty stare. I admired that. Kars Adon must have been afraid Hern was going to work all sorts of terrible enchantments on him, but he let Hern know who was King here. As for Hern, I could see him shaking at his own audacity. When he saw the King look, he went bright red.
“I apologize for that,” he said, and sat on the stool again—I think his knees gave way. “I had to get them out of the way because I’m going to be frank with you, and I didn’t want to be murdered on the spot. Before you tell us about Kankredin, I want to tell you that we are not of your people or of any clan of your people. We are natives, as you would say.”
“Is it possible?” said Kars Adon. “You look as we do.” He was really frightened now. So was I. When Hern launches himself on one of his rash ideas, you never know what will happen.
“My father’s fathers,” said Hern, “were born here by the River, as far back as I know. I wanted to tell you that, by way of friendship, and to prevent mistakes. Otherwise—well, you’ve already let us know there are not many of you, that your father is dead, that you’re camped in a bad place without too much food, and in some trouble with Kankredin besides.” This astonished me. But Hern was quite right. What Kars Adon had not told us, we could see by looking at his camp. “So before you give away all your plans and secrets,” Hern said, “I shall have to tell you we are your enemies. If I didn’t, we’d have given ourselves away somehow, and you’d have killed us, and we’d have lost our chance to help one another. Aren’t I right?”
“I… suppose so,” Kars Adon said. He looked at Hern dubiously. He wanted to trust Hern, for whatever trouble he was in, but he was not sure at all. I did not blame him. I was not sure I trusted Hern either.
“So why did you send for us?” Hern asked.
“He probably doesn’t want us anymore,” said Duck. He thought Hern was mad.
“I think I do,” said Kars Adon. “Only mages can understand a mage. I am sure you have the power to reach Kankredin in his ship. But I do not want to send enemies to him or tell you—” He did not seem to know what to say.
“Tell us as little as you can,” I suggested.
“If this will help you,” said Hern, “we were going to see Kankredin anyway. We just didn’t know his name. And though we are your enemies by birth, our people do not love us. They think we are Heathens, too.” It is hard to explain the bitterness with which Hern spoke. He must have been remembering Zwitt and Aunt Zara and Gull in anger for a long time. Kars Adon looked at him and wondered.
“What makes you a Heathen?” Duck asked Kars Adon.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Kars Adon said.
“Do you believe in the Undying?” I said.
Kars Adon smiled. “We’ve no use for dolls beside our fireplaces, if that’s what you mean. The Undying are not clay figures. But when I die, I hope to be gathered to them.”
This made me very indignant, but I could see, all the same, that Kars Adon did in some manner believe in the Undying.
“I will tell you,” Kars Adon said suddenly, “since you know so much already. Kankredin has been all the while out on his ship, wrestling with the might of your River. But when my father was killed, he knew, and sent one of his mages to bring us here, where he told us to stay. He promised us that he would conquer the land for us, through the River. But while we wait here, those of us who have not been killed by the natives are being sucked in by the River. The River is a greedy and devouring monster. It has carried off all our ships, except one. Kankredin has angered it with his enchantments, and it rises in ever-increasing might. And we suffer for it, not Kankredin.”
It really might have been Zwitt or Aunt Zara talking. But Kars Adon evidently believed it.
“I have known for some time that we must leave,” he said.
“Will you go away home?” I asked hopefully.
“That seems the only thing to do,” Kars Adon said. “We must build another ship and go. Now that my father is dead, my uncle will let us come back; they had quarreled, you see. It means that I must give up all claim to the throne and perhaps have both hands cut off, but I owe it to my clans.” He seemed very calm about this. “But,” he added sadly, “Kankredin will not let us out through the Rivermouth for any reason. I want to ask you to make him let us go.”
“Fair enough,” said Hern. “But what do you really want to do?”
“What do I want?” Kars Adon said. He lifted his head and stared at the gray flapping wall of the tent. “I want to go inland and found my kingdom there, of course. It is a wide country. There is plenty of room for us and the natives. I think there are certainly scattered bands from the clans between here and the mountains. I shall call them in and make a city. I don’t pretend it will be easy, but someday we shall be a great people again.” The way he said this made me think of flags flying over stone roofs and golden towers, and I really believed he could do it.
“That’s a bit hard on us natives,” said Duck.
“I shall make treaties with you. If you choose to fight, I shall win,” said Kars Adon, lost in high dreams.
“Right. When do you start?” said Hern.
That brought Kars Adon back to earth. He put his chin down and looked bleakly at Hern. Hern looked bleak and chalky back. The windy air in the tent seemed full of flags and half-heard trumpets out of Kars Adon’s thoughts.
“You want me to go to Kankredin and get his permission for you to conquer the country?” Hern asked, in his most jeering way.
Kars Adon was so angry that he stood up and took a limping step toward Hern. “I am not the servant of any mage!”