it would appear, does not like the idea of the Northerners pouring through his country."
"Which is reasonable," said Dedham carefully. "His country would be turned into a battlefield, between the Northerners and ... us. There aren't enough Hillfolk to engage the Northerners for any length of time. His country would be overrun, perhaps destroyed, in the process. Or at least annexed by the victor," he added under his breath.
"We couldn't possibly do as he asked," Sir Charles said, lapsing back to speaking his thoughts aloud. "We aren't even sure what the Northerners mean toward us at present."
Peterson said shortly: "The Hillfolk's attitude toward the North being what it is, I feel certain that Corlath's spy system is a good one."
"We offered cooperation," Sir Charles said.
"Capitulation, you mean," Peterson replied in his blunt way. "His."
Sir Charles frowned. "If he would agree to put himself and his people entirely under our administration - "
"Now, Bob," Dedham said.
"That's what it amounts to," Peterson said. "He should give up his country's freedom - that they've hung on to, despite us, all these years - "
"It is not unusual that a smaller country should put itself under the protection of a larger, when the situation demands it," Sir Charles said stiffly.
Before Peterson had a chance to reply, Dedham put in hastily: "What it comes down to is that he is too proud to hear our terms, and we are - er - we cannot risk giving - lending - him troops on his terms."
"The Queen and Council would be most displeased with us if we precipitated an unnecessary war," said Sir Charles in his best commissioner's voice, and Peterson grunted.
"We know nothing about the man," Sir Charles continued plaintively.
"We know that he wants to keep the Northerners out of Daria," Peterson muttered; but Dedham moved in his chair in a gesture Harry correctly translated as bestowing a swift kick on Peterson's ankle; and Peterson subsided.
"And he would not stay to parley," Dedham finished. "And here we are, feeling as if we'd all been hit in the head."
Corlath paced up and down the length of his tent as his Riders gathered. He paused at one end of the tent and stared at the close-woven horsehair. The wall moved, for the desert wind was never still. There were so few of the Hillfolk left; in spite of the small hidden tribes who had come out of their fastnesses to pledge to Damar's black-and-white banner after generations of isolation. Corlath had worked hard to reunite the Free that remained - but for what, when one thought of the thousands of Northerners, and eventually the thousands of Outlanders who would meet them? - for the Outlanders would learn soon enough about the Northerners' plans for southern conquest. Between them they would tear his country to shreds. His people would fight; he knew with a sad sore pride that they would hold on till the last of them was killed, if it came to that. At best they would be able to continue to live in the Hills: in small secret pockets of their Hills, hiding in caves and gathering food in the darkness, slipping away like mice in the shadows, avoiding those who held their land, claimed it and ruled it. The old Damar, before the civil wars, before the Outlanders, was only a wistful legend to his people now; how much less it would be when there were only a few handfuls of the Free living like beggars or robbers in their own Hills.
But he could not submit them to the Outlanders' ... practical benevolence, he called it after a moment's struggle with himself. For his army to be commanded by Outlander generals ... The corners of his mouth turned up. There was some bitter humor in the idea of the pragmatic Outlanders caught in a storm of kelar from both their allies and their opponents. He sighed. Even if by some miracle the Outlanders had agreed to help him, they would have refused to accept the kelar protection necessary - they didn't believe kelar existed. It was a pity there was no non-fatal way to prove to them otherwise.
He thought of the man who had spoken to him last, the grey-haired man. There had almost been a belief in him - belief in the ways of the Hills, that Corlath had read in his face; they might have been able to speak together. That man spoke the Hill tongue understandably at least - although he may not