inventions.
Thirg said he was glad to be in Carthogia; there was no need for apologies. He
had been treated well and courteously despite the difficult circumstances, and
on top of that had enjoyed stimulating and thought-provoking company. “It had
become a mystery to me even before the high pass above Xerxeon,” he said in
conclusion. “For what kind of outlaw was this who rode my philosophical
challenges as skillfully as he did his steed?”
Dornvald laughed. “I’m surprised that you could have been so easily deceived.
For most of the time it was all I could do to cling with my philosophical
fingers to avoid falling off.”
The preliminaries over with, Kleippur turned and gestured toward the maps. “I
don’t have to explain how valuable this kind of information is to us,” he said.
“Lofbayel has told me that you too believe the world to be a sphere, Thirg—a
strange notion, and one which I admit causes me more perplexity than comfort …
but nevertheless I will concede the possibility and grant that you have
considered the evidence at greater length than I. So can this claim be tested?
If so, how? If it is within my power to furnish the prerequisites, it shall be
done, for I would sooner know the world as it is than place misguided trust in
false appearances.”
The utterance was so unlike anything that Thirg was used to hearing from those
in authority that for a second or two he just stared in disbelief. Then he
recovered quickly and remarked, “It would appear that heretics have little to
walk in fear of in this land.”
“Facts cannot be changed by convictions,” Kleippur answered. “He who is willing
to change his convictions to suit new facts cannot be a heretic, while he who
persists in holding convictions that deny the facts is not a heretic but a
fool—as would I be for fearing him. Therefore the term has no meaning to me.”
“So is this the new faith of the nation that you would build?” Thirg asked.
“A philosophy, not a faith,” Kleippur replied. “Since it acknowledges the
existence of nothing unknowable to reason, it has no place for belief without
reason. I could not build such a nation, but I would help it build itself.”
“This is the land that Kroaxia has pledged to free from its chains and fetters?”
Thirg said, sounding incredulous and allowing his eyes to come to rest finally
on Lofbayel.
“Now you see which has the greater need to be freed,” Lofbayel said.
Thirg looked mildly uneasy. “So does Carthogia now pledge itself to free
Kroaxia?” he asked.
“The chains that bind the Kroaxians are in their minds,” Kleippur replied,
shaking his head. “Can a robeing be freed who asks it not, for is it not a
self-contradiction to speak of imposing freedom? The Kroaxians must come to see
truth as you have—each by his own way and in his own time. Only then can a mind
be free and not merely have cast off one set of chains for another.”
“A noble thought,” Thirg agreed dubiously. “But let us not forget that my eyes
were opened only after I was brought to this land forcibly.”
“Not so,” Dornvald said. “We merely brought your eyes to where they could behold
the truth. You opened them yourself, a long time ago.”
Thirg thought for a moment longer, and at last nodded, satisfied. “Then the
building of your nation shall have the help of both of us,” he told Kleippur.
Kleippur nodded and seemed unsurprised. In that brief moment Thirg felt a touch
of the compulsion that Kleippur was able to radiate as a leader. His simple and
unassuming acceptance of Thirg’s declaration had done more to cement a bond of
mutual respect and trust than any kind of elaborate speechmaking ever could.
“And so to business,” Kleippur said briskly. He looked at Dornvald. “Well, what
tidings do you bring from Kroaxia? The Serethginians are reequipping and
recruiting mercenaries as far afield as Corbellio in preparation for a new
campaign against us, I am advised, but jealousies war within their camp which I
have designs to turn to our advantage. What is new from beyond the Meracasine?”