Martt stood panting in the starlight. He had won. The scene around
him was still dwindling, but in a moment it stopped. Cliffs to his
shoulder. A shrunken, shallow lake. Its tiny flat islands were no
bigger than his foot. Along its shore where the cliff ended he could
see the open country. Tiny threads of roads. An island with points
of colored light--the island of the festival. At his feet, miniature
houses on stilts, many of them strewn on the water, trampled by this
combat of giants in which he had been victorious.
And the fallen giant there in the water, blocking the river-mouth, the
water deepening against his side.
Martt took a cautious step. Zee was down there somewhere. Then he saw
her figure, dimly, in the mist which hung over the lake at his ankles.
She seemed about the size of his finger. She was standing at the
water's edge, waving up to him.
He bent down--carefully. He said softly, "I see you, Zee. You must get
larger. I'll give you some of the drug to take."
She shouted, "Yes." It was a very tiny voice, echoing from far away.
Martt's jacket had been partly torn from him. One of his shoulders was
bare, bleeding from where he had been thrown against the cliff-top. He
stooped and dashed water upon the wound; and saw Zee crouch and shield
herself from the deluge of water he splashed.
He thought, "Careful, Martt;" and from his pocket drew one of the
cylinders. The tablets of the drug still were the size of his thumb.
He took one, laid it carefully at the water's edge, near Zee. It was
nearly the size of her body. She walked to it, examined it.
"Break it," he said. "Eat some--about the size of your thumb."
He could hardly have seen a speck of it so small. Zee found a loose
rock. She pounded at the white tablet. Ate a fragment. And presently
Martt gave her some of the other drug to stop her growth; and she was
his own size, standing beside him, gazing at the shrunken scene in
wonderment.