But Marvor, Cadnan had decided, was bad. "I sleep here," Cadnan said, a trifle severely. "I do not move my place."
In the dimness Marvor shook his head no, like a master. "I want you with me in the plan I have," he said. "I want you to help me."
That was different. The rules of the elders covered such a request. "Does a brother refuse help to a brother?" Cadnan asked. "We are from the same tree and the same time. Tell me what I must do."
Marvor opened his mouth wide, wider, until Cadnan saw the flash of his many teeth, and a second passed in silence. Then Marvor snapped his jaws shut, hissing, and spoke. "The masters tell us what to do. They make our life for us."
"This is true," Cadnan muttered.
"It is evil," Marvor said. "It is bad. We must make our own lives. Every thing makes its own life."
"We are slaves," Cadnan said. "This is our life. It is our place."
Marvor sat up suddenly. Around them the others muttered and stirred. "Does the plant grow when a master tells it?" he asked. "Does the tree bud when a master tells it? So we must also grow in our own way."
"We are not plants or trees," Cadnan said.
"We are alive," Marvor said in a fierce, sudden whisper. "The masters, too, are alive. We are the same as they. Why do they tell us what to do?"