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

<passage>:
Being a wizard missionary to the Free'l needed more than magic—it called for a miracle! Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that The spell the Free'l were casting ought to have drawn the moon down from the heavens, made water run uphill, and inverted the order of the seasons. But, since they had got broor's blood instead of newt's, were using alganon instead of vervet juice, and were three days later than the solstice anyhow, nothing happened. 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. How long had they been stamping around in their circle, anyhow? Since early moonset, and it was now almost dawn. No doubt they would go on stamping all next day, if not interrupted. It was time to call a halt. "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?" which was just coming up, he touched the outer cusps with salt. An intense smoke sprang up. "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. returned almost immediately with melons, a handsome necklace, and an enormous heap of straw. cast a spell. You're careful with it. And it works. Right away." "Magic works when referred originally to the nasal drip that accompanied that race's 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 standing in the hut, wondering what he should do next, when his big black-and-gold tooter in the corner gave a faint "woof." That meant headquarters wanted to communicate with him. elaborate, ego-caressing ceremonial of high magic, but its gist was you are keeping on with the Free'l. We do not expect you to succeed Free'l. Well, now, a reward like that was worth going to some trouble 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 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 tooter was carefully fitted to an individual magician's personality stakes were enormous. told him. Half-way through the first decad, he forgot. He inverted the order of the hand-passes, sprinkled salt on the wrong point, and mispronounced the names in the invocation. When he pulled his hands apart at the end, only a tiny yellow flame sprang up. "The tooter? For that ? You didn't do the spell right." 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, "Try the spell again." "Oh, dreeze. You're too impatient. You never give anything time to work." the magician, cursing his own weakness, surrendered the tooter to Rhn. The accusatory atmosphere in the normally indifferent Free'l was intolerable. But now what was he to do? He'd given up his tooter—he had to ask 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. Neeshan, in his desperation, began to invoke demons more disreputable help to the magical underworld. 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 one 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 One act of communal magic that really worked and they'd be sold on magic. He'd be sure of his senior rating. 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 now counciled and advised them on every phase of their daily routine, 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 into bed, and told them how to run their sex lives—advice which the 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. Somebody was casting a spell against him. the spell. This one happened to involve the optic nerves. didn't want the Free'l to see him and get suspicious, but he did want to have the pleasure of seeing them cast their first accurate spell. They were doing it right swooped down and blew him away, the Free'l would certainly receive a he couldn't even say "Ouch!" It felt as if his chest—no, his whole body—was being compressed in on itself and turning into something as 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 might have known 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 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 the autumn after next. They have a good deal of faith in magic, when

<question>:
What made teaching magic to the Free'l difficult?

<options>:
A They did not want many things
B They were lazy
C All of the other choices are correct
D They were innaccurate

<answer>:

C