"I'm sorry."
"You killed it!" Maota suddenly sprang for the weapon, lying forgotten in the sand. Michaelson put his foot on it and Maota was too weak to tear it loose. He could only weep out his rage.
When he could talk again, Maota said, "I am sorry, Mr. Earthgod. I've disgraced myself."
"Don't be sorry." Michaelson helped him to his feet. "We fight for some reasons, cry for others. A priceless book is a good reason for either."
"Not for that. For not winning. I should have killed you last night when I had the chance. The gods give us chances and if we don't take them we lose forever."
"I told you before! We are on the same side. Negotiate. Have you never heard of negotiation?"
"You are a god," Maota said. "One does not negotiate with gods. One either loves them, or kills them."
"That's another thing. I am not a god. Can't you understand?"
"Of course you are." Maota looked up, very sure. "Mortals cannot step from star to star like crossing a shallow brook."
"No, no. I don't step from one star to another. An invention does that. Just an invention. I carry it with me. It's a tiny thing. No one would ever guess it has such power. So you see, I'm human, just like you. Hit me and I hurt. Cut me and I bleed. I love. I hate. I was born. Some day I'll die. See? I'm human. Just a human with a machine. No more than that."