"Then who," asked Zen in a terrible voice, "is this wonderful smoke for? Some foreign god whom they worship on My Territory?" And he wouldn't put it past them either.
Peter looked at the anthropologist, but Kendrick was obviously too paralyzed with fright to speak. "As a matter of fact, Your—er—Omnipotence," the physicist said haltingly, "this is not part of our religious ritual. We burn this particular type of incense which we call tobacco, for our own pleasure."
"In other words," Zen said coldly, "you worship yourselves. I work and slave My Godhood to the bone only to have egotists running all over My Planet."
"No, it's nothing like that at all," Kendrick quavered. "We smoke the tobacco to—well—gratify our appetites. Like—like eating, you know."
"Well, you will have to forego that pleasure," Zen said, frowning terribly. Even the tall one cowered, he noted with appreciation. It had been a long time since people had really cringed before his frown. The Uxenach had come to take him too much for granted; they would learn their mistake. "From now on," he said portentously, "the tobacco must be reserved for My Use alone. Smoke it only for purposes of worship. Once a day will be sufficient," he added graciously, "and perhaps twice on holy days."
"But we do not worship alien gods," Kendrick persisted in a shaky voice. "Even if you were a god...."
Zen frowned. "Would you care to step outside and test my divinity?"
"Well, no ... but...."
"Then, as far as you're concerned, I am Divine, and let's have no more quibbling. Don't forget the tobacco once a day. About time I had a change from that low-grade incense."
He vanished. Too late he remembered that he'd planned to ask the Earthlings why they had come to Uxen, and to discuss a little business proposition with them. Oh, well, time for that at his next materialization for them. And, now that he considered the matter, the direct approach might very well be a mistake.