Maka sat deep in thought for a time, and when he did speak he made no
mention of the lad who had just quit us. Instead, he looked me over,
long and earnestly, and at the end he shook his head sorrowfully and
sighed:

"Thou art the sort of a son I would have had, Strokor, given the wits of
thy father to hold a woman like thy mother. And thou didst save my
life."

He mused a little longer, then roused himself and spake sharply: "Thou
art a vain man, Strokor!"

"Aye," I agreed, willingly enough. "And none has better cause than I!"

He would not acknowledge the quip. "Thou hast everything needful to
tickle thy vanity. Thou hast the envy of those who note thy strength,
the praise of them who love thy courage, and the respect of they who
value thy brains. All these thou hast--and yet ye have not that which is
best!"

I thought swiftly and turned on him with a frown: "Mean ye that I am not
handsome enough?"

"Nay, Strokor," quoth the star-gazer. "There be none handsomer in this
world, no matter what the standard of any other, such as Edam's Jeos.

"It is not that. It is, that thou hast no ambition."

I considered this deeply. At first thought it was not true; had I not
always made it a point to best my opponent? From my youth it had been