perceived the entire action; even saw the youth turn and come over.
The roly-poly but rugged One-Thumb indicated a table in one corner. ‘ Bring two
cups of brew thither for my friend and myself,’ he said. To Alten he added, ‘I
would have words with you, sir.’
So there they sat presently. And, after several sips, One-Thumb said, ‘I shall
say quickly what need be said. Alten, I must confess that I am not the real One
Thumb. I came because, with my sorcerer’s seeing, when this past noon hour my
body took on the form at which you are gazing, I had a visitor who informed me
that the transformation to a known person related to you.’
It was a long explanation. Long enough for Stulwig to have a variety of
reactions. First, amazement. Then, progressively, various puzzlements. And,
finally, tentative comprehension, and acceptance.
And since he held a drink in his hand, he raised it, and said, ‘To the real One
Thumb, wherever he may be.’
With that, still thinking hard as to what he could gain from this meeting, he
sipped from his cup; took a goodly quaff from it, and set it down. All the while
noticing that the other did not drink to the toast.
The false One-Thumb said unhappily, ‘My seeing tells me that the real One-Thumb
is in some strange location. It is not quite clear that he is still dead; but he
was killed.’
Up came Stulwig’s glass. ‘Very well, then, to Enas Yorl, the sorcerer, who in
whatever shape seems to be willing to be my friend.’
This time the other man’s cup came up slowly. He sipped. ‘I suppose,’ he said,