"It is better to be master than slave," Marvor said sullenly.
"But we are not masters," Cadnan said, with the air of a person trying to bring reason back to the discussion. "We do not look like masters, and we do not know what they know."
"You want to learn," Marvor said. "Then learn what they know."
"They teach me," Cadnan said. "But I am still a slave, because they teach me. I do not teach them."
Marvor hissed and at the same time shook his head like a master. The effect was not so much frightening as puzzling: he was a creature, suddenly, who belonged to both worlds, and to neither. "A master is one who does what he wants," he said. "If I do what I want, am I a master?"
"That is silliness," Cadnan said. Marvor seemed about to reply, but both were surprised instead by the opening of the door.
A master stood in the lighted entrance, holding to the sides with both hands.
Anyone with a thorough knowledge of men could have told that he was drunk. Any being with a sense of smell could have detected the odors of that drunkenness. But the Alberts knew only that a master had come to them during the time for eating and sleeping. They stirred, murmuring restlessly.
"It's all right," the master said, slurring his words only very slightly. "I wanted to come and talk. I wanted to talk to one of you."
Before anyone else could move, Cadnan was upright. "I will talk," he said in a loud voice. The others stared at him, including Marvor. Even Cadnan himself was a little surprised at his own speed and audacity.