Marvor turned away again without answering.
Cadnan stared at his leaf for a time. His mind was troubled, and there were no ready solutions in it. He was not of the temperament to fasten himself to easy solutions. He had instead to hammer out his ideas slowly and carefully: then when he had reached a conclusion of some kind, he had confidence in it and knew it would last.
Marvor was just the same—but perhaps there had been something wrong with him from the beginning. Otherwise, Cadnan realized, he would never have questioned the masters. None of the Alberts questioned the masters, any more than they questioned their food or the air they breathed.
After a time Marvor spoke again. "I am different," he said, "I am not like others."
Cadnan thought this too obvious to be worth reply, and waited.
"The elders tell me in the hut I am different," Marvor went on. "When they come to bring food they tell me this."
Cadnan took a deep breath of the air. It was, of course, scented with the musk of the Alberts, but Cadnan could not recognize it: like his fellows, he had no sense of smell. "Different is not good," he said, perceiving a lesson.
"You find out how different I am." Marvor sat very still. His voice was still flat but the tone carried something very like a threat. Cadnan, involved in his own thinking, ignored it.
"The masters are big and we are small," he said slowly. "The masters know better than we know."
"That is silliness," Marvor said instantly. "I want things. They make me do training. Why can I not do what I want to do?"