Robert Adams - The Patrimony

All three nodded assent. Then Neeka’s brow wrinkled and she shyly asked, “But why learn all these other languages, my lord, when we can all mindspeak?”

Milo had arisen and was standing with his pipe stem in his mouth, its filled bowl inverted over a candle flame, while he sucked mightily and little spurts of wispy smoke jetted from his mouth.

Tim answered the question. “Because, Neeka, outside the Confederation, mindspeak ability is far less common than it is in our lands.”

Milo resumed his seat, he and his now well-lit pipe emitting clouds of fragrant, blue-gray smoke. He nodded. “Tim is right. But even in the Confederation, only a little more than half the people have real, everyday-usable mindspeak even though the percentage has been climbing every year for the last two hundred or more.”

“When I led the first ten thousand or so of the Kindred from the Sea of Grass and into Kehnooryos Ehlahs a bit more than two centuries ago, mindspeak—since it had long been a survival trait in the hard and too-often short life of the clanspeople on the prairies and high plains, as it was the means of communicating with their horses and the allied prairie cats—was present to some degree in between seventy and eighty percent of them.”

“But in the Southern Ehleenee, whom we conquered piecemeal, only one or two percent were accomplished mindspeakers, and even those with latent powers only brought the figure to something less than ten out of every hundred. There were two reasons for this: Since their culture differed so drastically from that of the Horseclans, they had no real, pressing need for the ability and so had never nurtured and developed it; and since their antique religion considered any unusual mental abilities to be an indication of witchcraft—for which ‘sin’ the penalties were harsh, hideous, agonizing and fatal—those who did possess mindspeak seldom used it.”

“As the Kindred and Ehleenee intermarried and interbred, the talent began to crop up with more frequency, especially among the nobility. Then, after I broke the power of the Ehleen Church a century and a half back; after I stripped their clergy of many of their ancient rights and privileges, revoked their tax-exempt status retroactively and seized much of their property for back taxes along with tons of gold and silver; after I disbanded and either killed or imprisoned their secret packs of night-riding terrorists; after I released the common Ehleenee from the Church’s emotional stranglehold and turned them against the clergy by exposing those clergymen for what they truly were—smugglers, brothel owners, receivers of stolen goods, extortionists, rapists and murderers, and most telling, slavers of the worst sort, who maintained a fleet of merchant ships to transport the children the priests demanded of their parishioners for ‘holy orders’ across the sea to be sold at auction; after all this had been done and most of the Ehleenee were truly free in both mind and body, the percentage of mindspeakers really began to climb.”

“But what I consider—as will you—progress is seldom comprehensible to those whose lives span only fifty or sixty years and often less. Nonetheless, the population of the Confederation now includes almost sixty percent mindspeakers, and that is a hopeful sign that, someday, all our people will share the same gift.”

In the late evening of yet another day, Milo sat with his pipe and a small goblet of fiery cordial, his nude, freshly bathed body wrapped against the chill of the night in a chamber cloak of silk and fur. His long, almost hairless, bare legs were extended before a fragrant fire of oak and apple wood.

Across the width of their chamber, warmed by a nearby brazier, sat Neeka. The woman occupied a low, padded stool, faced a mirror lit by flanking lamps, and was raptly concentrating on the meticulous brushing of her buttock-length black hair. Her own goblet of cordial sat on her dressing table, barely sipped, and the small, richly jeweled pipe she was trying to learn to smoke had been set aside to smolder out.

Between them, a big bed, its cherry-wood headboard carved with the arms of Clan Morguhn, awaited them. Milo was eagerly anticipating the warmth of feather mattress and quilted coverings, but Neeka, it soon became apparent, was thinking of other things.

“Milo,” she asked, still brushing, “people have to have something to believe in. It was wrong for you to destroy the Church, and that destruction can only breed more and more rebellions over the years. Someday, the Ehleenee may even unite and—”

Milo chuckled and interrupted her. “Ehleenee unite? Never! Neeka, they couldn’t even unite to face the threat of my armies conquering them, so factionalized and backstabbing were they … and they’ve not changed one whit over the years.”

“My few thousand Horseclansmen and Freefighters could never have defeated any really united Ehleen kingdom, especially if that kingdom had had the minimal support of the others, but none of them was ever completely united or even minimally supported. No sooner did I invade Kehnooryos Ehlahs from the west than that unhappy realm was invaded from south by other Ehleenee—the Karaleenoee, to be exact—from the north by Middle Kingdom types and threatened from the sea by the Ehleen pirates, plus being faced with one large and numerous smaller internal rebellions.”

“When I invaded Karaleenos, it was the same story. Karaleenoee nobles who had bones to pick with Zenos and his successors either openly allied with me or weakened his armies by refusing to contribute troops and supplies or actually rising and laying waste to his rear areas.”

“The last King of the Southwestern Ehleenee, Zastros, might easily have crushed the combined armies I had raised to oppose his advance north had not certain of his chief thoheeksee decided they’d had enough of him and his Witch Kingdom queen, slain her, turned him over to me and disbanded the army.”

“Even the people of whom you were born, the Northern Ehleenee, regularly have a civil war once or twice each century. The only Ehleenee who ever enjoyed any kind of stability for any length of time were the Islanders, those who used to be pirates. And the last king of the pirates, Alexandros, used to say that that was only because every pirate understood that total unity alone prevented the utter extirpation of them all.”

“No, little Neeka, I don’t doubt that there’ll be brief, bitter risings from time to time, but we actually have more of them amongst the recently conquered mountainfolk than amongst the Ehleenee. However, very few of them require intervention by Confederation troops, most being put down on the spot by locals.”

“But still, Milo,” Neeka went on relentlessly, “if you’d allow those who wish to follow the Ehleen Church openly, one bone of great contention would be removed and most of the present secret societies which often breed these rebellions would no longer have much cause for existing.”

Milo shook his head. “Neeka, all you say may well be correct, but such a reestablished Church would require close supervision, lest it become as rotten, corrupt and powerful as its predecessor. I simply have never had the time or energy to spare for such a task … or the inclination, to be honest. I’ve lived for a millennium, and in all that time, in all the many cultures in which I’ve resided, through which I’ve moved, my experiences with organized religions have never been good, so my opinion of them is abysmal.”

“But, if long life has taught me nothing else, my dear, it is that flexibility is a true asset, so I’ll promise you this: When, in twenty or so years, you’ve learned all that you must, if you still want to see an Ehleen Church reestablished and you are willing to supervise that Church and keep its clergy at least law-abiding if not really honest—no one could keep either a politician or a priest honest any more than they could render chicken dung into gold filigree—I shall then allow such reestablishment to take place.”