"I guess I'll be moving along," he said to Marik. "I'm in fine shape now, thanks."
"I am glad you found your stay restful," Marik said, concealing his feelings for the desecrator. "Carthule is ever-providing."
The Earthman began to move idly up and down the mealroom, examining the ancient furnishings. "That reminds me," he said. "You wouldn't have a compass to lend me, would you?"
"A compass?" Marik let a puzzled frown cross his forehead. "What may a compass be?" he asked in just the right tone of ignorance.
The Earthman glanced at him impatiently. "You know," he said, gesturing with his hands. "It's a sort of a little metal box with a magnetic pointer. You must have seen them."
"No," Marik said. "Out here we rarely have guests from your world. I have not seen any compasses."
"Don't you use them yourselves—or something equivalent, I mean? A compass is for traveling. It tells you what direction you're going in."
Marik smiled. "We of Carthule have no need of such things, friend. We need no external guides here."
The Earthman worried a tangled wisp of hair. "Nothing at all? How do you find your way around in the desert?"
"We know how to travel," said Polla San quietly, emerging from his reverie.