The Serpent and the Unicorn: Book I and II

by Susan Skylark

  Chapter 6

  With the washing up completed, the boy led them to their next class. Tristan nearly fell asleep as the professor rattled on and on about the disputes between various individuals on the proper way to name and classify fungi. They attended several more sessions before the evening meal; thankfully none were as dull as the fungus lecture, but none of them really presented any useful information, and some of the material was downright wrong or distorted. They trudged wearily to supper; it had been a strenuous day of tedium. The students were excited and chatty over the evening meal, and very interested in the newcomers. Some remembered the pair had been armed when they arrived and remarked on their swords. Tristan explained that he had been a member of the Order once, and as they were traveling through wild or uncivilized lands, weapons were sometimes needed to ward off unwanted attention from animals or violent men. Several of the students perked up at mention of the Order. It seemed that there were a significant number of Order members amongst the student body. Many still went to Astoria, it was true, but the discipline was less rigorous and the subjects were more varied at the University. It also appeared that a growing number of people within the Order frowned upon the Oath-taking, which many of the men who went to Astoria opted to participate in.

  It seemed the Order was on the brink of a schism. Tristan had wondered if it was not coming. Either the Order would slowly be absorbed into the Brethren and cease to be a separate entity, or the Order would split and resume its previous position as a rival to the Brethren. Many of the students frowned upon swords and violence as a means of solving anything. The students who had actually encountered violence in the course of their lives rolled their eyes and shook their heads at the would-be pacifists. It was one thing to refuse to use a weapon on another individual; it was quite another to assume that because you did not use a weapon your opponent would somehow see reason and refrain from violence. If all the world agreed that violence was bad and no one would partake in evil against another person, then swords and violence would cease to exist. But as long as there is one man or nation willing to use force against another, swords and violence will be a necessary part of maintaining peace for those who could not (or would not) defend themselves. But the students who had never encountered real evil could not understand why swords might be necessary to maintain peace. They thought everyone was as ‘sensible’ as they and therefore swords were unnecessary and only encouraged violence.

  After supper, the students gathered on the lawn in the middle of the campus and held their evening debate. Each evening they chose a subject, and students took part in arguing for or against the topic of interest. Tonight’s subject was whether or not there was such a thing as evil. “Evil is simply a pre-constructed misconception in the minds of those who choose not to let everyone believe what they wish,” said one boy, “how can the opinions or ideas of one be better or worse than the thoughts of another? Is not everyone entitled to their own ideas? How can one be evil and one be good? Evil is simply a way of labeling those who disagree with you, which then somehow gives you the right to use force to change their minds or destroy them for their temerity in disagreeing with you.”

  Pallin stood up on the stump on which the recognized speaker must stand; you were not allowed to speak unless you stood on the stump. “By this definition,” said Pallin, “evil is simply me not agreeing with you on something and using that as an excuse to enforce my will on you?” The boy nodded. “What if I feel murder is all right?” asked Pallin, “could I murder someone in cold blood because I thought it was right and it would not be called evil?”

  The boy stood up on the stump, “if the person you killed thought murder was acceptable, then it would not be evil, but if he did not think murder was acceptable and you killed him then it would be evil because you used force on him against his beliefs.”

  Pallin scratched his head at this curious logic and resumed the stump, “so you are saying evil exists, but it is simply the forcing of one’s will on another who does not agree with you? Murder is acceptable as long as you both agree that murder is good? What if I murder someone and then steal his money? I was not killing him because we disagreed about murder but because we disagreed about who should be in possession of his money. Is the theft evil, but the murder acceptable?”

  The boy looked very confused but took the stump again, “would not all people agree that murder is bad and therefore they should refrain from such an action?”

  “Yes,” said Pallin on the stump, “but what if two murderers have a fight and one kills the other. Both agree that killing people is all right. Does that mean that one killing the other is not evil?” By now the audience was very confused. “Either evil exists or it does not,” said Pallin, “simply redefining ‘evil’ does nothing for the reality of it. Either there are forces out there willing to take advantage of other individuals or there are not. If murder, theft, kidnapping, rape, and every other crime you can think of is wrong, then there must be those out there willing to perpetrate them and therefore evil exists. If murder, theft, and rape are acceptable because they are just differences in opinion between two people then evil does not exist, just differences in what is considered acceptable behavior. If the latter, who decides what is ‘acceptable’ behavior? If I am set upon by a man with violent intentions is it wrong for me to ‘disagree’ with him and either flee or defend myself? Or should I simply allow him to act in whatever fashion he feels is right? Whose opinions should be counted in such a situation, mine or his?”

  A student took the stump when Pallin stepped down, “very interesting conjectures. Rational people would sit down and talk it out. There is no need for violence.”

  Pallin shook his head, “you are thinking in circles. Rational people are not violent because they are rational. What about all the irrational people out there who do not wish to sit down and discuss things? Evil is real and there are those individuals who will stop at nothing to accomplish their desires; they will not sit down and talk it out. They will simply kill you and step over your corpse.” Several of the students cheered, but the majority looked decidedly unhappy. There was no more debate that night. Their guide from earlier in the day offered them the option of sleeping in his room as they had not yet been assigned quarters. They happily accepted.

  The boy shared a small room with three other boys. Six made for a very tight sleeping arrangement, but they were happy to have the visitors in their quarters. They were always excited to learn something new. Even though the debate had been a disappointment to several of the students (sometimes the debate went on for hours and nothing was really decided, but lots of lovely sounding though unintelligible speeches were made), they were still eager to learn from the strangers. Tristan’s story was simple. He had been part of the Order, but it did not appeal to him so he went in search of something more meaningful. He had met Pallin on his journeys and together they sought something truly wonderful. The opinions of the students on the Order were interesting. They disagreed with its military focus but applauded its attempts at improving itself by reaching out to the University. They hoped eventually that it would become focused on peace and knowledge and would divert its resources to such noble endeavors. Their thoughts on the Brethren were also interesting. Many knew little of them, except what their teachers said. They believed them to be hardheaded and brainwashed individuals who would stop at nothing to remake the world in their image.

  “What would you do,” asked Tristan, “if you met one of these Brethren in your travels when you go out to expound your knowledge to others?”

  “I would be very careful in approaching him,” said their guide, “they are very dangerous men. But I would try and convince him of his own prejudices and help him to see the light.”

  “Interesting,” said Tristan. They stayed up late into the night discussing a plethora of topics. The boys found their guests full of fascinating knowledge.

/>   The next morning over breakfast, Tristan asked their guide, “what exactly do you do on these knowledge-sharing journeys?”

  The boy smiled, “we go out and visit inns, village greens, and anywhere else an audience is gathered and share our wisdom with all and sundry.”

  “What is the point of such journeys?” asked Tristan.

  “Why,” said the boy aghast at his ignorance, “to spread our knowledge to the ignorant common folk and to spread awareness of the University and its services to everyone. It also gives us a chance to get out into the real world and refine our knowledge and teaching abilities in order to prepare ourselves for a professorship or advisory position to persons of influence.”

  “How exactly do you support yourself on these journeys?” asked Tristan, “I do not expect you hunt or otherwise gather food along the way.”

  “No,” said the boy, “in return for our generosity in sharing our knowledge, it is assumed the peasants will provide us with room, board, and a little spending money.”

  Tristan pitied the poor youth and his expectations of support for offering useless advice to people with more commonsense than anyone at the University even dreamed of. “Do you often get visitors or people who check up on the progress of the University?” asked Tristan.

  “We get potential students, such as yourselves, who visit quite often,” said the boy, “otherwise we occasionally see some important looking fellows from time to time that I think are from the Philanthropic Society and are just checking in to see how things are coming along.” Tristan wondered if this Society was simply a front group for members of the Brotherhood who were making sure things continued along as haphazardly as possible.

  “When do you leave on your journey?” asked Tristan.

  “Actually,” said the boy, “I leave the day after tomorrow. I have a few more lectures I need to attend and am almost finished with my thesis on Positive Horsemanship. Once I have completed those two requirements, all I have left until I am awarded the title of Scholar is my journey.

  “How is this journey graded?” asked Tristan.

  “It is not graded,” said the boy, “we simply go out and travel for six months. Right now we are told to go out only into Arca and eastern Syre, but it is hoped that soon we will be allowed to expand our territory.”

  “Why the restrictions?” asked Tristan.

  “I think they wish to fully educate the surrounding areas, before sending us out into the larger world. It might dilute our message if we became too scattered, too fast. I think they plan on planting new Universities as our numbers grow and by restricting our area now, they will not overlap the potential territories of future Universities.”

  “I see,” said Tristan, “now where are you planning to venture?”

  “I do not know,” said the boy, “I have never left Dara. I suppose I will head towards Arca and see what I encounter along the way.”

  “Are you allowed companions on your journey?” asked Tristan.

  “Students must not travel with other students, but I do not think it is forbidden to travel with non-students, assuming you do not shirk your duties,” said the boy.

  “If I may,” said Tristan, “I would like to go with you. I wish to know more of this whole process before I make a final decision as to becoming a member of the University.”

  The boy smiled, “I would welcome your company, I was afraid to make such a journey alone.”

  It was a strange offer, but Tristan felt it the right thing to do at the time. Maybe he was just a sap for boys in troubled situations. He glanced wryly at Pallin, who had once been a half-starved stable boy until Tristan took him under his wing. This boy was in just as much need of help if not more so; Pallin at least had some commonsense. He would either starve in the wilderness or be set upon by bandits or wild beasts. Pallin feared to ask what he was going to do, when Tristan said, “I will go with you then. Pallin will stay on at the University as a student, but I have not yet made up my mind.” The boy beamed; Pallin glowered at Tristan but said nothing. The last thing he wanted was to be left alone at this melting pot of absurdity. But he understood; someone had to keep an eye on things here in case any of these Brotherhood characters showed up. The boy would be eaten alive in the real world and Tristan could protect him, while at the same time traveling with the boy might reveal more about the Brotherhood’s plot (or it might be a complete waste of time and energy, but it was the best lead they had).

  Pallin soon found himself in a red robe (for his interest in Philosophy and Logic) though perhaps not as happy about it as most of the eager students running about. He could have chosen green, but he was not sure he could stomach any more fungus lectures. The philosophy lectures were sure to irritate him with their inanity, but at least they kept him awake. He was assigned to Geff’s room (their guide) as he would be leaving shortly, and also would replace Geff in washing dishes after lunch every day. Geff spent the next couple of days finishing up his course requirements while Pallin spent the time learning what it meant to be a student at the University. Tristan spent his time preparing for the upcoming journey (there was no way he would entrust such preparations to the eager but clueless Geff). His first task was to locate a proper horse for the boy. He may think he was an expert in horsemanship but Tristan doubted he had ever spent much time personally involved with the animals. He finally found a docile grey gelding that appeared to have both speed and stamina; they would likely need both on their journey. He also procured food and equipment for the boy.

  When the time for their departure arrived, the three met on the lawn. Pallin said his farewells and Tristan said he would keep in contact as best he could. Privately they had discussed what Pallin should do, should any of the members of the Brotherhood turn up. Geff was a little disappointed to be setting out on horseback as it was considered a badge of honor to set out on foot, but since he was an expert in horsemanship he decided it would be acceptable. He eyed the tall horse before him with concern; the gelding was much taller than his former pony. Tristan smiled at the boy’s awkwardness, but helped him into the saddle. Taragon snorted in amusement. Some of Geff’s friends came to bid him farewell; several of them looked at the horse in disapproval; a few openly scowled at the sword at Tristan’s side. Tristan turned Taragon and they headed away from the well-wishers. Geff’s horse followed Taragon automatically; otherwise, he might have stood there forever. Riding a horse was much different than being perched in the saddle while someone led your pony. Geff clung to the saddle and tried to think positive thoughts at his mount. The gelding did not seem to care.

  The first couple days, Geff spent most of his time trying to figure out how to survive in camp and how to control his horse. No matter how many positive thoughts he sent towards the shaggy grey head, nothing seemed to sink in. He finally ended up resorting to more traditional methods of horsemanship. Eventually, he figured out the basics of getting on and off, saddling, grooming, cleaning hooves, using the reins, stop, go, back, forward, how to change gaits, and using hobbles. He learned more about horses in two days on the road than he had learned in a lifetime elsewhere. Camping was something else entirely. He was not used to sleeping with just a blanket and a cloak on the hard, often damp ground, especially in the rain. He woke up far too early and discovered once you were awake you could not get back to sleep. Meals were simple and consisted mostly of dried or salted food that would keep on the trail.

  He woke up stiff and cold and as he was not used to riding, his muscles ached terribly. Tristan pitied him, but soon enough his body would acclimate to the rigors of travel. This whole journey thing was a lot tougher than Geff had anticipated. He had imagined walking through sunlit woods, crossing babbling brooks, and running through flower-filled meadows. Crowds of people gathered to hear him and hung on every word. He was glad Tristan was with him, because otherwise he would be lost, miserable, and hungry instead of just sleep-depri
ved and sore. They had been on the road a week and had not encountered anyone or anywhere that seemed a likely target for his expostulations. Tristan traveled very slowly the first week to allow the boy to get used to the idea, later they would travel much more quickly.

  Tonight, they planned their first visit to an inn. Tristan said that tonight would be his treat, but after that it was up to Geff to procure lodgings and food if he wished for a change in their camping routine. It was a pleasant little inn, somewhere in the borderlands between Arca, Syre, and the sea. It sat beside the main road that ran along the coast, located near the juncture with the major road heading west. The inn was full of travelers and locals who enjoyed the ale and talk. Tristan told Geff that he was on his own and could handle the crowd as he saw fit. Tristan took a chair in the back and waited to see what was going to happen. Most of the people in the common room paid little or no attention to a mere boy, a few looked towards him curiously.

  He stood by the fireplace and quietly began, “horses are quite interesting beasts…they ummm have been…uh…enslaved by humans for centuries and ahh…suffer terribly under our brutal lordship…uhh…I have developed a…method umm…of increasing the errr…efficacy of communication with our…equine er friends.” Tristan pitied the poor boy, but he had to learn it the hard way or it would never sink in that he really knew nothing of importance, let alone anything that people would pay him to hear. He spluttered and mumbled on for a good fifteen minutes. By now every eye in the place was fixed on the boy and most of the faces held barely restrained laughter. Finally the audience could take it no longer and laughter racked the room. Geff turned crimson and tried to find a place to quietly disappear, but he was forced to walk through the entire crowd in order to flee out the open door. Tristan quietly followed.

  He found the boy weeping on the woodpile. “They thought I was funny!” sobbed the boy. “I have worked so hard and thought my ideas were so profound,” he continued, “no one who read my thesis thought it laughable.”

  Tristan put an arm around the distraught youth and said, “there is a big difference between the things that go on at your University and life in the real world. You said you never left Dara? There is a whole wide world out here and you cannot survive in it with the nonsense and lunacy that passes for knowledge at the University. The poorest farmer has more sense than any of your professors. At the University, you are sheltered and protected from reality, and all sorts of useless or illogical philosophies can exist, but out here, you need commonsense to survive. No one in there cares about fungal taxonomy, but they know all sorts of things that help them make a living at whatever it is they do. I would rather spend an hour talking to one of them than a minute listening to some puffed-up, harebrained professor. In the last week you have become a somewhat decent horseman, but did any of your professors question the validity of your ideas on horsemanship? You wrote a two hundred page essay on pure nonsense. Now you can continue in this idle vein, or you can spend some time talking to real people and maybe even learn a few things worth knowing.”

  The boy wiped the tears from his eyes and a determined look entered his eyes, “you really think my methods are nonsensical?”

  “Did it work on your gelding?” asked Tristan with a smile.

  “No,” said the boy morosely, “but what about my future as a Scholar?”

  “No one said you could not complete your journey and then return to the University and work to change the system,” said Tristan.

  “Change the system?” asked Geff in shock.

  “The University is a good idea, to spread knowledge and skills to those who need them,” said Tristan, “but in its current form it is propagating nonsense and anyone who gives enough money can call themselves a Professor and rattle away about whatever they want. They need a system to make sure those doing the teaching are qualified to do so and they need to offer material that has some practical use in real life.”

  “So I have wasted the last two years of my life?” asked Geff.

  “I would not say you wasted it, but you could have used it more productively,” said Tristan, “at least you are now aware of the folly associated with the University’s current mode of operation and perhaps can do something about it.”

  “If you know this about the University, why are you tagging along with me and why is Pallin currently enrolled there?” asked the boy with a quizzical frown.

  Tristan laughed, “you have a very quick mind. You will do well if we can get it directed into a proper channel. Pallin and I are trying to figure out who is behind the propagation of such nonsense and if we can rectify the situation.”

  “Can I help?” asked the boy.

  “You already are,” said Tristan, “we will continue on your Journey as planned, but instead of sharing your wisdom, you will be asking other people to share theirs with you. By the end of the journey you should have amassed a great deal to think about and may perhaps be able to use it to enlighten your friends and colleagues.”

  “What are you going to do?” asked the boy.

  “For now I will travel with you and hope to find out more about the plans behind the University. I have a feeling that agents of whoever is behind these schemes are to be found upon the road, monitoring or assisting in the dispersal of so much misinformation. I think your school is the beginning of a great plan to destroy knowledge, wisdom, and truth as we know it. If it works in Syre and Arca, it will likely spread to the rest of the world,” said Tristan. The boy was wide-eyed at the mention of such plots and conspiracies. He had thought the University simply a place to learn and exchange ideas. They went back inside and sat down to a hearty supper; Geff was ecstatic to sleep in a bed again. The next day, much refreshed and with a new sense of duty, they set off in search of knowledge.