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the young magic-user said.  He isnot playing some silly game; I understand
what he is saying, and it is true."
Foster shot a look of sheer gratitude at the mage.  Questor Grimm, would you
be as good as to explain this simple concept to everybody? Despite the
desperate, pleading tone in the pilot's voice, the thaumaturge still heard the
echo of the didactic Crohn's classroom voice.
"The area of the shape's surface is ten square yards, the mage said.  The
volume is two cubic yards, so the ratio is now five to one."
"Exactly! Foster said, clapping his hands.
"Outstanding, was Crest's languid, sarcastic remark.  So what does this have
to do with how much water everybody drinks?"
"Is it not plain? Grimm cried.  Bigger people have proportionately greater
volume, which stores the water, than surface area, which sweats it off, as
compared to smaller people! Crest needs less water than Tordun to drink his
fill, but he loses water at a much faster rate than the larger man, so he
needs to drink more often."
"So how do we choose suitable quantities of water for all? Xylox asked, who
still bore a dubious expression after this arcane manipulation of numbers.
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"We cannot, Grimm replied, who was now persuaded.  Foster has been right,
all along. We should all drink what our bodies demand. Tordun will require
more water than Crest when he drinks, but our estimable, whip-wielding friend
will need to drink moreoften .
"We cannot say which man will need to drink more, so it is better to drink to
satisfy our thirsts. I hate to say it, but I agree with Foster in all regards.
If we wait here, we waste water without progress, and we lose strength through
lack of food. If we continue now, we may spend a day or two without water, but
we should survive. We must continue!"
A long time passed while Xylox, Tordun and Crest considered Grimm's words. In
the end, it was Tordun who spoke first.
"Ah, forget it, Foster. I'm not going on any further."
"Oh, well, let us just lie here and talk over old times, shall we? the young
mage snapped.  I assure you I was as ready as any of you to stay here, but I
am now convinced that we must move on. If you wish to die, I will join you.
Should you desire life, I suggest that you make the effort to continue. It is
up to you."
"In any case, Foster said,  Armitage wants us to go to the General, and who
are we to argue? He spoke as if offering a rare treat.
Tordun opened his twisted mouth, as if to offer a sour rebuke, but Grimm felt
as if a sharp, cold spear had run through his head, and he could see that the
two warriors had received a similar mental rebuke.
"Very well, Foster, Xylox said.  If Armitage wishes it so, we must go.
Questor Grimm; kindly inform the girl that we will leave with her or without
her. We will adopt Foster's plan, in furtherance of our beloved
Administrator's wishes."
"I understand, Brother Mage, the younger magic-user replied.  Who are we to
ignore Armitage's wishes?"
For the sake of the Quest, it seemed better to simulate a fanatical adherence
to the dead Administrator's commands than to show complete independence of
mind. Grimm understood the reason for Xylox's volte-face, and he knew the
warriors had been shown the same truth.
"Break camp! Foster shouted, with new confidence, and the painful routine
started anew.
Chapter 19
Confrontation and Deliverance
Foster forged ahead, as he had on the previous two days, and Crest approached
Xylox, who was trudging along near his fellow Questor.
"What was that little barb you sent me? the thief demanded, stopping the
mages in their tracks. His chin jutted in an aggressive manner.
"I have convinced Foster that we have been pacified by Armitage; that we are
his happy, willing slaves, the senior mage declared.  It would not look right
if we exhibited too much initiative and opposition. I therefore expect you and
Tordun to control your tempers."
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"Oh, youexpect it, do you, magic-user? Crest snarled, bridling in an
instant. He raised his fist as if to strike, but Xylox, quick as thought,
interposed his staff, Nemesis, between them.
Crest pulled his punch, but his knuckles brushed the ebon rod, and he yelped,
jerking his hand back in sudden pain. He stuffed the offending extremity into
his mouth, as if it had been burnt, regardless of the indignity of the pose.
"Do not eventhink of attacking a Mage Questor, elf! Xylox snapped.  A Mage [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]