by Paul Chafe
“You speak well, Honored Mother, but you do not enlighten me as to how you come to speak well.”
V'rli raised a paw for patience. “Truth earned is truer than truth given. Do you know the Telepath's Legend?”
“As Father read it to me.”
“So compare that tale to mine and tell me how they are the same.”
Pouncer twitched an ear in annoyance. “They are as like as any two legends. There are Heroes and their enemies, Patriarchs and priests, fortresses and temples. Something was, and becomes something else, and today it remains the same. With respect, Honored Mother, I don't see the point of this.”
“The point, the first point, is the one I have just made. Simply that the Old Hero Legends are based on events from the time of Chraz-Rrit, sometimes the same events we find in the Pride Saga, sometimes from before that time. They have been distorted to present those events in a certain way, and distorted further simply because of their age, but they contain fundamental truths. Accept this as a working hypothesis.”
“Accepted.”
“The second point is, if those with power at the time these events took place had wanted them remembered they would have included them in a saga, if not the Rrit Saga then a lesser one, to be passed intact from generation to generation in the memories of the Conservers. They did not do this, so we may conclude they did not want these events recorded. However, they were unable to repress them entirely. Not even the Fanged God could forbid tale telling at the pride circle. The best they could do is insert variations that served their interests.”
“Hrrr. Perhaps you assume too much. Time inevitably distorts legends, but there is no evidence anyone has distorted them deliberately. Nor do I see any motive.”
“Then I will give you both proof and motive. Each legend explains a truth about today in terms of happenings long ago. What truths are explained? Other than the ubiquitousness of the grashi, both explain how the Black Priests came to their responsibilities, the one story for kzinretti, the other for telepaths. Both these responsibilities are combined in the Kitten's Test, and the penalties for failing the tests are serious: death for females and sthondat addiction and slavery for males.”
“I am…” Pouncer groped for words. “I am astounded, for many reasons at once.” He paused, absorbing what he'd just heard. “Let us return to the legends. You said you would give me proof of their distortion and motive for it.”
“The proof of their distortion is simple. What the Black Priests do is cull the species. This is what they do today; the legends tell us they have been doing this since time immemorial. This is something that touches every kitten in every Pride. These facts could not be suppressed. Instead the legends were distorted to justify the practice. The sthondat drug is powerful, addictive, and debilitating, yet giving it to still-nursing kits is spoken of as caring for them. The execution of precocious females is done to protect the species, and both are carried out on the orders of the Fanged God. This is supported by the traditions, by the rituals, by the entire structure of the Priesthood. Any argument, any protest, is automatically cast in heretical terms. Through their control of belief they exert effective control of the entire Patriarchy, save those of us who choose to live outcast.”
“Hrrr. I do not see this providing power. Many do not take the existence of the Fanged God as literal truth. Father did not, and I do not. The Priesthood in general and the Black Priests in particular exist at the sufferance of the Patriarchy, not the other way around.”
“And yet you follow the traditions.”
“I am First-Son-of-Meerz-Rrit. It is expected of me.”
“And if you did not meet this expectation?”
“There would be consequences…”
“Consequences!” V'rli spat. “It would shake the Patriarchy to its core. If the Patriarch's son flouts tradition, who might not? If the traditions cannot be relied on then no one would be safe. The doubts of one would become the fears of the next. Pride War would be the result, would it not?”
Pouncer twitched his tail in annoyance. “Pride War is already the result, and Kchula-Tzaatz has not been particularly bound by the traditions in his conduct of it.”
“But you yourself would not dream of breaking them. And the Great Prides and the kzintzag alike adhere to the traditions because the Patriarch does. Some traditions serve the species, like the code of honor, and the Dueling Traditions, but many serve only the priesthood, and the priesthood serves the Black Priests.”
Pouncer flipped his ears. “The High Priests do not believe that.”
“The High Priests stay in their temples and seek unity with the Fanged God. Perhaps they achieve it, who knows? We say the High Priests are most powerful because they sanctify the ascension of the Patriarch, but this is not power because they cannot choose not to do it. We say the other cults serve the High Priests, but this is like saying you serve your slaves by providing them food and shelter. The Black Priests act for the High Priests in the waking world, and what High Priest even knows what a Black Priest does? A Black Priest comes into a Pride-Patriarch's stronghold and says 'The High Priests have so commanded,' and who can question them? The Black Cult are many things, all of them dark, all of them powerful, and their stranglehold on our species starts with the Kitten's Test. They are the Bearers of Bad Tidings, and what tidings are worse than the news that a promising son will be taken to become Telepath, that a daughter still suckling will be abandoned to the jungle verge? Who in all the Patriarchy does not fear the Black Cult?”
“They are just one order among many, and others are more dangerous.”
“You speak of the Hunt Priests. The Black Cult are too stealthy to ripple the drinking pool, but they are the ultimate power in the priesthood. All the orders are pledged to obey the High Priests, but it is the Black Cult that speaks for them. The Hunt Priests do not apply the Hot Needle save at the order of the Black Cult. The puzzle traps of the Conundrum Priests hold their enemies, the Practitioner Priests in every Pride serve as their eyes and ears and noses. They do not often show their power, but they are playing a long game, as are we.”
“And this game is?”
“The Longest War.”
Pouncer's ears swiveled and he wrinkled his nose, puzzled. “This is a scientific term, the non-random survival of randomly varying individuals. I do not understand how you use it here.”
“The phrase has come to be used in a strictly technical sense, but its older meaning is quite literal. We fight the war for control of the kzinti gene line.”
Pouncer's ears fanned up. “You jest.”
“If I call it the Telepath's War is the meaning clearer? You ask for motive. This is their motive.” V'rli's eyes narrowed and she leaned forward. “I will retell the legends from another vantage. We have traced the genes, and we know the kzinti line diverged into two primary streams around the time of the Jotok Conquest, some eight-to-the-fourth generations ago. By far the largest of these is the Kcha line, encompassing every Pride that ever went to space, and almost every Pride still here on Kzinhome. The other, the Vda line, is confined to us, the czrav of the central jungles, and yet this tiny, isolated gene pool is eight-squared times more diverse than that of the entire Patriarchy. What does this mean to you?”
“A genetic bottleneck.”
“Almost. There are other clues. The Kcha line shows signs of gene manipulation, several episodes of it, all of it ancient, almost certainly the work of the Jotoki.”
“They are a slave race. No Jotok would dare such treachery!”
“Not today, but the Jotoki were not always a slave race, and their gene manipulation skills remain unparalleled. Shall I tell you the other clues?”
“Please.”
“The largest single phenotypic difference between Kcha and Vda is expressed in brain formation. Kzinretti of Kcha have a third less frontal cortex than kzinretti of Vda. Kzintoshi of Kcha have a less dramatic frontal cortex reduction — but more importantly, they compensate for this by coopting
the telempathic centers. As a result telepathy is eight-to-the-fourth times rarer in Kcha than in Vda, and sixteen times less powerful. Most telepaths of Kcha require sthondat lymph to awaken their talents. Among the Vda line, few do.”
“This is incredible.”
“So now I will tell you another story. Eight-to-the-fourth generations ago there were many kzinti lineages resident only on Kzinhome. Some prides mastered technology and went to space, other prides did not advance so quickly, or at all. Those with technology inevitably expanded at the expense of those who did not, either through assimilation, which enhanced the genetic diversity of the assimilators, or through marginalization, which decreased the genetic diversity of the primitives. One of these pre-technological prides embraced the Black Cult rituals. How they originated we can only guess. As with all traditions they served a social purpose; in this case it was either the suppression of female independence or the suppression of telepathic talent. Both might offer threat to an established power structure. The Legend of V'rere suggests the first, the Legend of Telepath suggests the second. Perhaps it was both at once. Whatever the origin, the gene pool was not large, a few pawfuls of prides, and so could evolve rapidly, at least at first, while there was still enough genetic diversity. Later, when the diversity was exhausted, changes would come much more slowly. Over some small number of generations the Black Cult rituals had their desired effect. An inevitable consequence is that they could not advance their culture as rapidly, if only because half the culture was punished for thinking. This group was the Kcha lineage.”
“Your reasoning is sound.”
“Inevitably the dominant lineages which we combine to label Vda pressed hard against the lineage of Kcha as they began to exploit more and more planetary resources. Equally inevitably the spacefarers made eventual contact with the Jotoki. We can assume the outcome was war, not the Jotok War the Pride Saga speaks of when we enslaved them, but one before that. Some of the legends may refer to this war, or perhaps not; at this distance in time it is impossible to reconstruct the chronology in detail. Jotoki history is nearly erased, but we know they had a starfaring civilization long, long before we did. Their mastery of genetic engineering was complete even then. We have no reason to assume the Vda lineage were any less warriors than we are today. Even with better technology we can expect the Jotoki to have been hard-pressed. How did they deal with this upstart race of carnivores? Not through direct combat; they are a genetically uniform species, which inevitably reduces conflict, especially coalitional conflict. They are not natural warriors.”
“How then?”
“They exploited the inherent instability of a fragmented power distribution. They enlisted the Kcha lineage prides to do their fighting for them. Kcha lineage would almost certainly have resisted marginalization or extinction; how much better could they do this with high-technology weapons? The Jotoki introduced genetic modifications to those of the Kcha line, presumably to make them better warriors. This technique was so successful that very quickly the situation was reversed and Kcha had all but exterminated Vda. The Jotoki force-grew entire armies of Kcha warriors and tailored them to suit their purposes. This explains the extremely rapid onset of the genetic bottleneck, which may have been as short as a single generation. It is certain they gave them weapons and the training to use them. This explains the legends describing kzinti armed only with iron weapons against other kzinti possessed of magic; this is Kcha against Vda. It also explains the early verses of the Rrit Pride Saga in which both atmospheric and interstellar flight appear from nowhere in a single generation — gifted to Kcha by the Jotoki.”
Pouncer fanned his ears up. “This story is incredible.”
“It is well supported by the evidence, for those of us who have cared to look. The Jotoki must have been pleased at their success, but they were ultimately caught in their own trap. Having conquered Kzinhome, the Kcha warriors turned against their Jotoki masters and enslaved them. The Pride Saga tells us Chraz-Rrit-First-Patriarch was a cunning warrior and legendary leader, and this must have been so for him to have succeeded as he did. Nevertheless the social fabric of nomadic hunters was completely unadapted to the task of running an interstellar civilization. Inevitably this led to many problems as primitive beliefs clashed with technological realities. In particular the Black Cult gained access to Jotok genetic engineering skills and made further changes to the Kcha gene line. Which of the changes are due to the Jotoki and which to the Black Cult we can now only surmise. One thing we do know. The black fur gene is double-recessive, and its allele supports both telepathy in kzintosh and high reason in kzinrette. Black fur guarantees their absence. The Black Priests serve their genetic interests when they serve their creed.”
“This is proven?”
“The facts are well supported. The link between them…” V'rli twitched her tail. “I find the arguments persuasive, but correlation does not demonstrate causation. The truth is buried in the distant past and will never be known in detail. Regardless, the actions of the Black Priest cult are well known, as is what they would do if they knew the czrav secret. The tradition of deep secrecy is ancient in our line.”
“But why secrecy and stealth? Telepathy is a great power; it is only the sthondat addiction which renders it a burden. What army could stand against you if you knew the minds of its commanders?”
“Telepathy carries its own burdens. Partial adepts are good hunters because they can sense their prey and know which way it will leap before it does. Full adepts cannot hunt because they feel the fear and pain of their prey as if it were their own. The strongest cannot even defend themselves against attack. And then, too, the mind-trance is seductive. Some who enter it never come out. This is the lure of the sthondat drug.”
“Hrrr.” Pouncer turned a paw over, considering.
“No, our way is better. The Patriarchy tolerates us, and we are slowly welding the lines of Vda and Kcha together again, through treaty gifts like your mother and other means. We will inevitably win, as long as we are not interrupted.”
Pouncer looked up to meet V'rli's gaze. “You face a new danger then, Honored Mother.”
“What is it?”
“The Tzaatz. Ftzaal-Tzaatz is a Black Priest, as well as zar'ameer to Kchula. The Black Cult has gained a powerful advantage in Tzaatz Pride's seizure of the Patriarchy.”
“We have kept our secrets this long. We will keep them now too.”
Off in the distance a tuskvor bellowed. Pouncer's ears swiveled reflexively to follow the sound, weirdly distorted by its passage through the caves and chambers of Ztrak Pride's den. “I hope you are right. I hope I have not led them to your den. The Tzaatz will not stop searching until they know I am dead.”
He who has a thousand friends has not a friend to spare,
And he who has one enemy will meet him everywhere.
— Ali ibn-Abi-Talib, the fourth Caliph (602–661 A.D.)
The courier Valiant climbed steadily out of Sol's gravity well. When Tskombe woke up the sun had already shrunk to a quarter of the diameter it showed on Earth. At first he had sat and stared through the navigation blister's transpax, because the only alternative was to lie and stare at the walls of his tiny cabin. He had been too groggy with an overdose of ARM mercy needles to do anything else. It amazed him that he'd made it aboard. Now he sat because the view was spectacular, and because he needed time to think.
Time. It was something he had plenty of now, and little else besides. He'd thrown his career away. Somewhere between calling Jarl and his desperate flight with Trina he had crossed a line that even General Tobin could not erase for him, nor would his commander choose to. He had broken fealty, the ultimate crime, though that would not be what his charge sheet said. In return he had what he wanted now: he was on his way to Wunderland, to Kzinhome, to find Ayla. On Earth he had allowed that to become a single-minded goal, had taken the refusal of Tobin to allow him to pursue it as a personal affront. Now that he was actually embarked on his mission the odd
s stacked against its success were becoming increasingly clear.
Footsteps on the ladder behind him. He turned. It was Khalsa.
“Recovered, I hope?” The Navy man was solicitous.
“Recovered physically, at least.”
“And mentally?”
“I wonder whether I've made the right choice.”
“For the human race, you certainly have. For yourself…” Khalsa shrugged. “Only you can answer that.”
Not even I can answer that. Not until I know if the gamble was worth it. But even as he thought it he knew he could have taken no other choice, for the simple reason that he would not have been able to live with himself otherwise. It wasn't a rewarding train of thought, given his chances of success. Time for a new subject. “So you owe me an explanation.”
Khalsa raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”
“Who are you working for.”
“Naval Intelligence.”
“You told me you weren't representing the Navy.”
“Officially I work directly for the Secretary of War.”
“And unofficially?”
“I have a certain degree of freedom to operate. The Secretary usually finds it expedient to know little about what we're doing.”
“Including the freedom to task a ship to Wunderland?”
Khalsa shook his head. “This flight isn't authorized.”
“This flight isn't unauthorized either. I know what it takes to get away from a planet. I've done it. There's been no interception. You had this courier standing by to take me off-planet. That's not arranged on the spur of the moment.”
“We've cleared the inner system defensive sphere with bluff and liberal use of an Ultra clearance ident. Direct descent is unusual, but nobody had a reason to stop us. Once everyone on the ground gets all the pieces of the puzzle we may get intercepted after all. Do you feel well enough to talk to Curvy?”
Tskombe raised his eyebrows. “She's here?”
Khalsa nodded. “Curvy is who I work for. This is her ship. I'm her command pilot, among my other duties.”