"Oh, yes, I remember now." The tone of his voice said that remembering was a matter of no importance. "I have changed my mind. There will be no more water for humans."
"But Holy One—"
"I have spoken. Does the human wish to dispute me?" Malovel's bird-talon fingers went eagerly to the squares on the arms of the chair. An eager look crept into his yellow eyes.
The slob is hoping I will defy him so he can have the pleasure of using the esse on me, Sanderson thought. Aloud he said: "Your will is our highest law, Holy One."
Regret showed on the Martian's face. "Then be gone, all of you, by the next rising of the sun." The fingers remained on the square as if Malovel was still treasuring a lingering hope that this human would defy him.
"Yes, Holy One," Sanderson said. Backing out of the audience hall, he wondered how even Malovel expected them to be gone by tomorrow even if they had a place to go! Inhospitable deserts surrounded them, making impossible a flight across Mars. Earth would welcome them back—if they could get there—but not a man or a woman here would welcome Earth.
Returning to the human settlement he saw that all work had stopped and that everyone was waiting for him. The news that he had been summoned to Malovel had gotten around. "Meeting right away," he said to each man he met. The drift to the assembly hall began immediately.
He stood in front of them, a tall man with bitterness on his face. Less than a hundred humans looked up at him, all who lived here. He did not have to ask for silence. The men and the women who entered here showed no inclination to talk.
"We have until tomorrow to leave," he said.
Silence continued in the big room. These people had already braced themselves against bad news.