'Yes,' I said.
'Even if they think they are all urts, or lizards or clouds?'
'I gather so,' I said, 'and in such a society the one who does not think that heis an urt, or, say, a lizard or a cloud, would be accounted insane.'
'And would be insane?' she asked.
'On that definition,' I said.
'That is a preposterous definition,' she said.
'Yes,' I admitted.
'I do not accept it,' she said.
'Nor do I,' I admitted.
'Surely there can be a better,' she said.
'I would hope so,' I said, 'one that was framed with a closer regard forempirical reality, the actual nature of human beings, and such.'
'Someone is insane,' she said, 'who believes false things.'
'But we all, doubtless, believe many false things,' I said 'Theoretically a society could believe numerous false propositions and still, innormal senses of the word, be regarded as sane, if, in many respects, a mistakensociety.'
'What if a society is mistaken, and takes pains to avoid rectifying its errors,what if it refuses, in the light of evidence, to correct its mistakes?'
'Evidence can usually be explained away or reinterpreted to accord withtreasured beliefs,' I said. 'I think it is usually a matter of degree. Perhapswhen the belief simply becomes too archaic, obsolete and unwieldy to defend,when it becomes simply preposterous and blatantly irrational to seriouslycontinue to defend it, then, perhaps if one still compulsively, to defend it,one might speak of sanity.
'I should think so,' she said.
'But even then,' I said, 'other concepts might be more fruitful, such as radicalobstinacy or institutionalized irrationality.'
'Why?' she asked.
'Because of the vagueness of the concept of insanity' ' I said, 'and its oftenimplicit reference to statistical norms. For example, an individual who believedin, say, magic, assuming that sense could be made of that concept, in a society,which believed in magic, would not normally be accounted insane. Similarly, sucha society, though it might be regarded as being deluded, would not, in alllikelihood, be regarded as insane.'
'What if there were such a thing as magic?' she asked.
'That society, then, would simply be correct,' I said.
'What of these people who were just here?' she asked. 'Are they not insane?'
'By carefully chosen definitions, I suppose we could define them into sanity orinto insanity, depending on whether we approved of them or not, but it isdifficult to derive satisfaction from victories which are achieved by the cheapdevice of surreptitiously altering a conceptual structure.'
'I think they are mad, insane,' she said.
'They are at least mistaken,' I said, 'and, in many respects are different fromus.'
She shuddered.
'The most pernicious beliefs,' I said, 'are not actually beliefs at all, but,better put, pseudobeliefs. The pseudobelief is not assailable by evidence orreason, even theoretically. Its security from refutation is the result of itscognitive vacuity. It cannot be refuted for, saying nothing, nothing can beproduced, even in theory, which could count against it. Such a belief is notstrong, but empty. Ultimately it is little more, if anything, than aconcatenation of words, a verbal formula. Men often fear to inquire into theirnature. They tuck them away, and then content themselves with other concerns.
Their anchors, they fear, are straw; their props, they fear, are reeds. Truth ispraised, and judiciously avoided. Is this not human cleverness. at it's mostremarkable? Who knows in what way the sword of truth will cut? Some men, itseems, would rather die for their beliefs than analyze them. I guess that itmust be a very frightening thing to inquire into one's beliefs. So few people doit. Sometimes one grows weary of blood-stainedtwaddle. Battles of formulas, you see, as nothing can count against them, aretoo often decided by wounds and iron. Some men, we have noted, are willing todie for their beliefs. Even larger numbers, it seems, are willing to kill forthem.'
'It is not unknown for men to fight for false treasures,' she said.
'That is true,' I said.
'But, in the end,' she said, 'I do not think that the battles are fought for theformulas.'
I regarded her.
'They are only standards and flags, carried into battle,' she said, 'stimulatoryto the rabble, useful to the elite.'
'Perhaps you are right,' I said. I did not know. Human motivation is commonlycomplex. That she had responded as she had, however, whether she was right orwrong, reminded me that she was an agent of Kurii. Such folk commonly see thingsin terms of women, gold and power. I grinned down at her. This agent, strippedand in her yoke, was well neutralized before me. She was no longer a player inthe game; she was now only a prize in it.
'Do not look at me like that,' she said.
'I am not of the Waniyanpi,' I said, 'Female.'
'Female!' she said.
'You had best begin to think of yourself in such terms,' I said.
She twisted, angrily, in the yoke. Then she looked up at me. 'Free me,' shedemanded.
'No,' I said.
'I will pay you much,' she said.
'No,' I said.
'You could take me from these fools,' she said.
'I suspect so,' I said.
'Then carry me off with you,' she said.
'Do you beg to be carried off?' I asked.
'Yes,' she said.
'If I did so,' I said, 'it would be as a slave.'
'Oh,' she said.
'Do you still beg to be carried off?' I inquired.
'Yes,' she said.
'As a surrendered slave,' I asked, 'a total and abject slave?'
'Yes!' she said.
'No,' I said.
'No?' she said.
'No,' I said.
'Take me with you,' she begged.
'I am going to leave you precisely where you are,' I said, 'my lovely mercenary.'
'Mercenary?' she said. 'I am not a mercenary! I am the Lady Mira of Venna, ofthe Merchants!
I smiled.
She shrank back on her heels. 'What do you know of me she asked. 'What are youdoing in the Barrens? Who are you?'
'You look well in the yoke,' I said.
'Who are you?' she said.
'A traveler,' I said.
'You are going to leave me here, like this?' she asked.
'Yes,' I said.
'I do not want to go to a compound of these people,' she said. 'They are insane,all of them.'
'But you begged to be taken to their compound,' I said 'to be taught theirTeaching.'
