zobo went back into the shadows behind the bar.
morden looked around casually. insofar as it could be ascertained in the gloom, none of the drinkers seemed to be paying any more attention to the professor and himself. "why frommer, professor? perhaps i can answer your questions. about the times you are interested in. after all, i was here, no less than frommer."
"i suppose you were frommer's right hand man," the professor replied good-naturedly. foul as it was, the schnapps he had imbibed seemed to have put him in a good humour, and relaxed his stern manner towards his former (100) pupil.
"well, no, but i did talk to him once or twice, at the bar."
"ah, you talked to him once or twice at the bar. and what did you talk to him about?"
"i can't really remember. i probably flattered him a bit, maybe tried to get him to buy me a drink."
"and did he buy you a drink?"
"probably not, i will tell you one thing about frommer. he was not very generous."
"no?"
"no, he didn't know how to take care of his men."
the professor laughed at this. "what an expression! take care of his (200) men! you make him sound like some type of military officer."
morden was mildly discomfited by the professor's gently mocking tone. "well, it don't have to be military. i mean anybody who wants followers for anything, who wants to be a big shot and have people look up to him, he's got to know how to treat them, make them feel wanted. like he respects them."
"and you, morden, have you ever wanted to have followers - followers that presumably you would treat right."
morden took a sip of his drink. "oh, no, i just try to get by."
"a most judicious stance."
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