Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
the Free'l needed more than magic—it called for a miracle! the solstice anyhow, nothing happened. Neeshan watched their antics with a bitter smile. He'd tried hard with them. The Free'l were really a challenge to evangelical wizardry. They had some natural talent for magic, as was evinced by the frequent attempts they made to perform it, and they were interested in what he told them about its capacities. But they simply wouldn't take the trouble to do it right. looked up from his drumming. "Go away," he said. "You'll spoil the charm." "What charm? Can't you see by now, Rhn, that it isn't going to work?" "Of course it will. It just takes time." "Tell the demon what you want," Neeshan ordered the Free'l. The Free'l hesitated. They had few wants, after all, which was one of the things that made teaching them magic difficult. "Yes." Neeshan turned to the Free'l, who were sharing the dyla melons That's how it ought to be. You cast a spell. You're careful with it. And it works. Right away." "When you do it, it works," Rhn answered. "Magic works when anybody virulent head colds. It had been extended to mean almost anything annoying. The Free'l, who spent much of their time sitting in the rain, had a lot of colds in the head. Wasn't there anything to be done with these people? Even the simplest spell was too dreezish for them to bother with. He was getting a headache. He'd better perform a headache-removing spell. He retired to the hut the Free'l had assigned to him. The spell worked, of course, but it left him feeling soggy and dispirited. He was still two he was deep in a cataleptic trance. The message from headquarters was long, circuitous, and couched in the elaborate, ego-caressing ceremonial of high magic, but its gist was clear enough. "Your report received," it boiled down to. "We are glad to hear that you are keeping on with the Free'l. We do not expect you to succeed with them—none of the other magical missionaries we have sent out ever for nearly four more six hundred-and-five-day years. And the highest offices in the Brotherhood—that could mean anything. Anything! He hadn't realized the Brotherhood set such store on converting the Free'l. Well, now, a reward like that was worth going to some trouble for. Neeshan sat down on his couch, his elbows on his knees, his fists pressed against his forehead, and tried to think. The Free'l liked magic, but they were lazy. Anything that involved accuracy impressed them as dreezish. And they didn't want anything. That was the biggest difficulty. Magic had nothing to offer them. He had never, Neeshan thought, heard one of the Free'l express a want. intricate, florid black-and-gold curves seemed to fascinate him. True, he hadn't been interested in it for its legitimate uses, which were to extend and develop a magician's spiritual power. He probably thought that having it would give him more prestige and influence among his people. But for one of the Free'l to say "I wish I had that" about anything whatever meant that he could be worked on. Could the tooter be used as a bribe? Neeshan sighed heavily. Getting a tooter was painful and laborious. A tooter was carefully fitted to an individual magician's personality "No, don't bother telling me again—it's just more dreeze. Give me the Rhn stared at him indignantly. "You mean, you're not going to give me the tooter after all the trouble I went to? I only did it as a favor, really. Neeshan, I think it's very mean of you." "Try the spell again." "Oh, dreeze. You're too impatient. You never give anything time to work." He got up and walked off. For the next few days, everybody in the village avoided Neeshan. They all felt sorry for Rhn, who'd worked so hard, done everything he was told to, and been cheated out of his tooter by Neeshan. In the end Rhn. The accusatory atmosphere in the normally indifferent Free'l was Rhn to lend it to him when he wanted to contact headquarters—and the senior rating was no nearer than before. His head ached constantly, and all the spells he performed to cure the pain left him feeling wretchedly tired out. Magic, however, is an art of many resources, not all of them savory. help to the magical underworld. one thing, another something else. The consensus, though, was that while there was nothing the Free'l actually wanted enough to go to any trouble for it (they didn't even want to get rid of their nasal drip, for example—in a perverse way they were proud of it), there was The Free'l thought, the demons reported, that he was inconsiderate, tactless, officious, and a crashing bore. They regarded him as the psychological equivalent of the worst case of dreeze ever known, carried to the nth power. They wished he'd drop dead or hang himself. The Free'l thought he was a nuisance, did they? They thought he was the most annoying thing they'd encountered in the course of their racial history? Good. Fine. Splendid. Then he'd really annoy them. He'd have to watch out for poison, of course. But in the end, they'd turn to magic to get rid of him. They'd have to. And then he'd have them. They'd be caught. One act of communal magic that really worked and they'd be sold on Neeshan began his campaign immediately. Where the Free'l were, there was he. He was always on hand with unwanted explanations, hypercritical objections, and maddening "wouldn't-it-be-betters." Whereas earlier in his evangelical mission he had confined himself to pointing out how much easier magic would make life for the Free'l, he from mud-smearing to rain-sitting, and from the time they got up until they went to bed. He even pursued them with advice after they got Free'l, who set quite as much store by their sex lives as anybody does, resented passionately. But most of all he harped on their folly in putting up with nasal drip, and instructed them over and over again in the details of a charm—a quite simple charm—for getting rid of it. The charm would, he informed them, work equally well against anything— or person —that they found annoying. The food the Free'l brought him began to have a highly peculiar taste. Neeshan grinned and hung a theriacal charm, a first-class antidote to poison, around his neck. The Free'l's distaste for him bothered him, naturally, but he could stand it. When he had repeated the anti-annoyance charm to a group of Free'l last night, he had noticed that Rhn was listening eagerly. It wouldn't be much longer now. didn't want the Free'l to see him and get suspicious, but he did want swooped down and blew him away, the Free'l would certainly receive a hard as stone. He tried to wave his tiny, heavy arms in a counter-charm he couldn't even inhale. The last emotion he experienced was one of bitterness. He the Free'l couldn't get anything right. The Free'l take a dim view of the small stone image that now stands in the center of their village. It is much too heavy for them to move, and while it is not nearly so much of a nuisance as Neeshan was when he was alive, it inconveniences them. They have to make a detour around it when they do their magic dances. They still hope, though, that the spells they are casting to get rid of him will work eventually. If he doesn't go away this autumn, he will the autumn after next. They have a good deal of faith in magic, when you come right down to it. And patience is their long suit.

<question>:
What motivates the Free'l?

<options>:
A Getting what they want through magic.
B Impressing Neeshan with their abilities.
C The prospect of accomplishing great magic.
D Nothing really motivates them at all.

<answer>:

D