"I guess not," Norvis grumbled. Wearily, he dragged himself out of bed. "What's going on, anyway? You have any idea?"
"Sure," said Krin. "They're honoring Dran peNiblo. Giving him the Order of Merit, Smith said."
It took a moment to register. Then Norvis said: "What?" He sat down again on the bed. "Dran peNiblo? Being given the Order of Merit? For what? That fumblewit can't even find his way to class without having trouble."
Krin peBor shrugged. "I don't know why, either," he admitted. "But the Earthmen do funny things sometimes. '' He gave Norvis a look intended to convey deep meaning, but which merely seemed ridiculous on his youthful face.
Norvis shook his head. "Dran peNiblo! I don't get it."
It was, on the face of it, incredible, Norvis told himself as he reluctantly stood up again, still red-eyed from his long night of wasted effort.
"Well, at least that woke me up," he said, reaching for a fresh vest. "I couldn't get back to sleep without knowing what Dran peNiblo has done to deserve the Order of Merit."
Krin peBor, seeing that Norvis was definitely up to stay, smiled politely and ducked out. A moment later, Norvis heard him thundering on the next door down the hall.
Norvis stared balefully at the heap of papers on his desk, at the two or three scratched notes that had been the only products of his night's labors. His project was rtearing completion—that was obvious—but last night he had come to the jarring discovery that, with the end in sight, he was not at all anxious to finish.
His specialty was biochemistry, and he had been working fairly closely on his project with Smith. Both he and the enigmatic bearded Earthman were sure that the project would probably make him a popular hero, a member of the Order of Merit, and all the other things, but some nagging doubt at the back of his mind had kept him from handing in the completed work to Smith. The worst part of it was that he didn't know why; he was simply reluctant, and until he found the source of his reluctance he was determined to go no further on the project.
He scooped up the papers, shoveled them into his file, and clicked closed the combination lock. Then, smoothing his golden facial down with his palms to make himself more presentable, he started downstairs. From outside, he could hear the sounds of the gathering which had started to form in the Square.
He still didn't believe it. Dran peNiblo being honored? For what? What was the little, two-legged hugl capable of, Norvis wondered, that could ever make him the center of any such affair?
For a bleary-eyed moment, Norvis considered the possibility that it was all a hoax instituted by Krin peBor for some obscure motive. It was unlikely, but it seemed more conceivable than the idea that Dran peNiblo had done something worthwhile.
Yet, when he emerged from the dorm and crossed the Square to the main building of the School, he discovered that all was actually as Krin peBor had said. On the little platform usually erected for such events, Norvis could see the tall, solemn-faced figure of the Earthman Smith, the rotund figure of Morn peDrogh Yorgen, Head Grandfather of the Bel-rogas School, and, standing between them, looking impossibly thin and meek, was Dran peNiblo Sesom.
It just doesn't figure, Norvis told himself as he drew closer. It just doesn't add up at all.
He joined the outermost edge of the throng, edging in to a little clump of upperclassmen who were standing together. They greeted him morosely; they were obviously almost as sleepy as he was.
"Did I hear right?'' Norvis asked. "Are we all down here to see Dran peNiblo get glorified?"
"Precisely," said a tall, bored-looking student named Kresh peKresh Dmorno, who was from the western coast of the large landmass that was the larger of Nidor's two continents. "We are just discussing the utter improbability of it."
Norvis nodded and flicked a glance at the platform. Smith, Dran peNiblo, and Grandfather Morn peDrogh were standing there waiting for the School to assemble.
Smith, who had guided the School for years, who had been there in the days of Norvis peRahn's parents, was standing there, stroking and .smoothing his graying beard, waiting calmly and patiently. Grandfather Morn peDrogh was darting nervous glances around, and occasionally turning to mutter something to Smith, at which the Earthman would hold up a hand in pardon.
Apparently the priest was apologizing for the tardiness of his students; Morn peDrogh was much more of a stickler for promptness and proper decorum than his predecessor, old Gils peKlin Hebylla, had been.
As for Dran peNiblo, the little fellow looked utterly ill at ease. As usual, his golden body hair seemed waterlogged and unkempt, and his eyes were dull and dreamy. It had long been a mystery to Norvis—and, apparently, to some of the others—how Dran peNiblo had managed to get past the Examiners. The Bel-rogas School of Divine Law was supposed to accept only the best, the cream of Nidorian youth. How did Dran peNiblo fit into that category? Some of the students had decided that Dran was unnaturally shy and afraid of people, and that made him seem stupid but the Earthmen's tests had shown his true worth. But Norvis had never subscribed to that rationalization.
Still, if he were going to get the Order of Merit, didn't that prove something?
Norvis shook his head. He still couldn't buy the theory. Dran peNiblo was fit to raise peych beans, like any other peasant, or perhaps work in the stables, tending deests. And yet, there he was, up on the platform, planted between Smith and the Head Grandfather.
Grandfather Morn peDrogh stepped forward and raised both his arms above his head. The crowd stilled. Norvis leaned forward to hear better. He was curious to find out just what this was all about.
"My children," the Grandfather said in his solemn voice, "Your attention, please." The priest waited for the low hum of conversation to die out, smoothing his hands against his blue tunic impatiently, then went on.
"We are here this morning to ask the blessings of the Great Light upon one of our members. Let us pray."
Everyone turned to face the east, where the morning glow of the Great Light was already showing a pearly gray through the eternal cloud layer of Nidor.
"O Great and Shining Father," the priest intoned, "Favor us this day by shedding Your Holy Light and Your Ineffable Blessings upon us all. And favor especially those of us who have diligently worked in Your Holy Cause. And favor especially one of our members whom we, Your servants, are to honor today for his work in Your Great Plan.
"Favor us, then, O Light of the World, by giving special grace to Your servant, Dran, the son of Niblo, of the noble Clan of Sesom, for the work he has done for Your people."
The invocation was over. As one, the crowd turned back to look again at the platform.
Dran peNiblo still looked as snivelly as ever and as stupid as ever. Norvis felt it quite unlikely that the Great Light had paid any attention to the prayer.
Smith, the Earthman, stood up. "In order that all of you may understand what this young man has done," he said carefully, "we must take a look at the world's food supply and examine its fundamental nature.
"The principal crop, which is the basic plant food of all Nidor, is the peych bean,'' Smith said. "Now, while it is truly written, 'We do not live on peych alone,' it is, nevertheless, our most important crop. Because of its versatility, it may be used for many other things; its leaves provide us with fiber for our clothing; its stalks can be used as fuel or deest-fodder."
Norvis exchanged wry grins with the man standing next to him. "Next he'll be telling us that the stuff we breathe is air, and how important that is, he whispered.