"No," the other whispered back, "I think, after judicious consideration, that he will remind us that water is, after all, very wet."
From the platform, the Earthman's voice went on. "You can see, therefore, what a boon it would be if some method were to be discovered to aid the farmer in producing peych beans. Dran peNiblo has been concentrating on an approach to this problem.
"Those of you who have been studying agronomy know how the soil is enriched by fertilizers, of course. What Dran peNiblo has done, very briefly, is discover a way to increase the per-acre yield by nearly one hundred percent, by means of a new growth hormone which—"
Norvis peRahn's wandering attention snapped back suddenly to what the Earthman was saying. Growth hormone? It couldn't be! That was his own pet project!
He strained his ears to hear Smith's words more plainly.
"—which permits the plant to make more efficient use of the soil. Although the cost of producing this new substance is high, very little is needed for each plant—a matter of a few drops sprayed over the leaves of the plant itself.
"Naturally, the exact process will remain a secret, to be kept in the possession of Dran peNiblo and his descendants in order that he may reap the proper profit due him by virtue of his brilliant work.''
Norvis peRahn felt the golden fuzz on the back of his neck prickle. Smith had quoted almost exactly the words in his own notebook, locked upstairs in his file! He sputtered in rage. Why, that little sneak of a Dran peNiblo had stolen his work!
Norvis rocked back and forth for a second or two, much too bewildered to be able to say or do anything at all. The events of the entire morning had been insane, unbelievable.
On the platform, Smith, with a great show of ceremony, had taken a small box from his voluminous robes and had handed it to Grandfather Morn peDrogh. The Grandfather turned to Dran peNiblo, who had yet to open his mouth. He was standing there, smiling insipidly.
Grandfather Morn opened the box and brought forth a magnificently embroidered ribbon with a gleaming bronze medallion dangling from it. The assembled students suddenly became terribly quiet.
"Dran peNiblo," said the priest sonorously, "kneel."
The little man knelt humbly. Grandfather Morn looked upward, where the Great Light gleamed through the ever-present clouds, and then down at the kneeling Dran peNiblo. Norvis froze.
Solemnly, the Grandfather said: "The Blessings of the Great Light be upon you, Dran peNiblo, for the brilliant work you have performed here at the Bel-rogas School. It is only fitting, then," he continued, starting to slip the ribbon around Dran peNiblo's thin neck, "that we, by virtue of the power vested in us by the Council of Elders, do hereby invest you with full and unqualified membership in the Gracious Order of—" Norvis could take no more.
"Stop!" he roared.
The sound of his voice broke the dead silence that had prevailed in honor of the investment. Norvis heard the single word ricocheting off the buildings and echoing back, bouncing around the Square.
All eyes turned on him. He felt terribly alone in the midst of the crowd.
"What does this interruption mean?" Grandfather Morn asked sternly. His eyes were blazing with rage.
Norvis took a step backward, only vaguely noticing that everyone around him was edging slowly away, leaving him standing, a solitary figure, in the midst of a cleared circle. He tried to speak, but he could find no words.
"I repeat," the Grandfather said. "What did that outburst mean? By what right does a student irreverently interrupt a Ceremony of Investiture?"
Again Norvis struggled to speak, and this time the words were there.
"Dran peNiblo is a thief!" he shouted. "The growth hormone was my project! He stole it from me!"
Some of Grandfather Morn's rage seemed to be replaced by shock and wonderment. "That is a very serious and unusual charge," he said cautiously. "What proof can you offer?"
Norvis pointed a golden-haired finger at the tall Earthman. "Ask Smith, Grandfather! Smith knows! He knows I was working on it! I'm almost finished with it! Go ahead, Smith!" Norvis stopped suddenly. The Earthman was saying nothing, but there was a look of detached surprise on his alien face.
"Well?" said Norvis hoarsely. "Go on, Smith! Tell him! Tell them all that Dran peNiblo stole my project!''
Norvis felt his hands quivering. He was no longer afraid, not even of the Earthman; he was burning with righteous indignation. "Goon!" he shouted. "Tell him all about it!''
Smith looked almost sorrowfully pained. "Dran peNiblo has been working on this project for over a year," he said quietly. "He has been reporting to me regularly. I know of no other project in the School which is even remotely similar."
Grandfather Morn peDrogh frowned. Obviously, the whole scene was very distasteful to him, and he was unsure of how he was going to recapture the dignified tone of the ceremony.
"You have heard the Earthman?" he asked sternly.
"It's a lie!" Norvis yelled. "I was working on the project! Dran peNiblo wouldn't know a hormone from a deest's bray without a picture-book! That was my project, and he stole it—and Smith knows that! Smith's lying! Lying!"
Overcome by rage, Norvis pushed his way through the crowd, heading blindly for the platform, where Smith awaited him, arms folded calmly.
Norvis kept repeating, over and over again, "Smith is lying! The Earthman is lying!"
Then, quite suddenly, a powerful hand was clamped over his mouth, and two more seized his arms. He struggled, kicked wildly, bit at the hand. It had the alien odor of an Earthman's skin, and then Norvis sensed the acrid taste of an Earthman's blood. But the hand remained where it was.
He was in the grip of two of the Earthmen, and they were dragging him away, back from the platform, then further away and into one of the buildings. He continued to fight and struggle, and, as he was hurled, still protesting, through an open door, he heard the droning voice of Grandfather Morn peDrogh proceeding with the ceremony as if nothing had happened.
II
The long road that led from Holy Gelusar, the capital, to the great eastern seaport of Vashcor veered to the southeast to avoid the Mountains of the Morning, a branch of the mighty range of the Ancestral Mountains that ran east-and-west across the continent, separating the rugged northern province of Sugon from the more fertile plains of the south.
The traffic was not heavy along the road; the easiest method was to take the river packet from Gelusar, traveling down the Tammul River to the southern seaport of Tammulcor, and then take a coastal ship around to Vashcor. But that cost money, and Norvis peRahn had precious little of that. He had six twenty-weight notes in the wallet of his vest, and two six-piece coins in his pocket, making a hundred and twenty-one weights in all. Not much money to last a man very long.
He tried not to think of his personal problems, but with every loping step of the long-legged deest beneath him, they kept pushing their way back into his mind. A glance at the bleak crests of the Mountains of the Morning reminded him of the story his mother had told him long ago—about a secret place of magic that the Earthmen had hidden somewhere in those jagged peaks. Sindi iRahn had told the story many times, always cautioning young Norvis not to tell anyone else, and at the same time instilling in him a certain uneasiness about the Earthmen—a suspicion that had been more than amply confirmed now.
The sight of the mountains, reminding him of his mother, reminded him in turn of her tears when she learned that he had been expelled from the Bel-rogas School as a result of the scene he had caused that day.