He shook her off. “You have built a city over one of night,” he repeated. “You speak the Engh tongue, as we do on feast days. You speak to such as me, with words, not with the whips with the little tags. You have fine woven clothes, with patches of color of fine-woven cloth.”
It was beyond doubt the longest speech he had ever made in his life. The clay on his forehead was beginning to streak with the effort.
“You are right,” Amalfi said. “We are from Earth, though we left it long ago. I will tell you something else, Karst. You, too, are of Earth.”
“That is not so,” Karst said, retreating a step. “I was born here, and all my people. None claim Earth blood—”
“I understand,” Amalfi said. “You are of this planet. But you are an Earthman. And I will tell you something else. I do not think the Proctors are Earthmen. I think they lost the right to call themselves Earthmen long ago, on another planet, a planet named Thor V.”
Karst wiped his calloused palms against his thighs. “I want to understand,” he said. “Teach me.”
“Karst!” the woman said pleadingly. “It is nothing. Wonders pass. We are late with the planting.”
“Teach me,” Karst said doggedly. “All our lives we furrow the fields, and on the holidays they tell us of Earth. Now there is a marvel here, a city raised by the hands of Earthmen, there are Earthmen in it who speak to us—” He stopped. He seemed to have something in his throat.
“Go on,” Amalfi said gently.
“Teach me. Now that Earth has built a city on the Barrens, the Proctors cannot hold knowledge for their own any longer. Even when you go, we will learn from your empty city, before it is ruin by wind and rain. Lord Amalfi, if we are Earthmen, teach us as Earthmen are teached.”