Korvin was answering the last question. "Some men are larger than I am," he said, "and some are smaller."
"Within what limits?"
Korvin shrugged. "Some are over eight feet tall," he said, "and others under four feet." He used the Tr'en measurement scale, of course; it didn't seem necessary, though, to mention that both extremes of height were at the circus-freak level. "Then there is a group of humans," he went on, "who are never more than a foot and a half in height, and usually less than that—approximately nine or ten inches. We call these children," he volunteered helpfully.
"Approximately?" the Ruler growled. "We ask for precision here," he said. "We are scientific men. We are exact."
Korvin nodded hurriedly. "Our race is more ... more approximate," he said apologetically.
"Slipshod," the Ruler muttered.
"Undoubtedly," Korvin agreed politely. "I'll try to do the best I can for you."
"You will answer my questions," the Ruler said, "with exactitude." He paused, frowning slightly. "You landed your ship on this planet," he went on. "Why?"
"My job required it," Korvin said.
"A clumsy lie," the Ruler said. "The ship crashed; our examinations prove that beyond any doubt."