"What is this all about?" I asked.
"It has to do with giveaways," said Cuwignaka.
"I do not understand," I said.
"Meet me back here, later," said Cuwignaka.
"Very well," I said.
"I am so much yours," we heard Winyela say, from within the lodge. "I am so much yours, my master!"
Cuwignaka and I smiled, and then we took our seperate ways.
Chapter 14
WANIYANPI
"Pumpkin!" I said, pleased.
"Peace, and light, and tranquility, and contentment and goodness be unto you," he asid.
"I had heard that there were Waniyanpi in camp," I said. "I had hoped that it might be you, and others from your group."
"We have delivered vegetables to our masters," said Pumpkin. "You remember Carrot and Cabbage?"
"Yes," I said. "Greetings, Fellows."
"Sweetness be unto you," said Carrot.
"Sweetness be unto you," said Cabbage.
"Who is this?" asked a dark-haired woman, bellingerently. She, too, wore the garb of the Waniyanpi. That is a long, gray dress which falls between the knees and ankles. Her feet, too, were wrapped in rags. This garb is unattractive on women, doubtless intendedly so. On men, similarly, it appears ungainly and foolish.
"I do not think you met Radish," said Pumpkin.
"No," I said.
"Who are you?" asked Radish.
"Radish is the leader of our small expedition to the camp," said Pumpkin, "and is, for most practical purposes, first in the compound, in our home, Garden Eleven, although we all are, of course, the same."
"Of course," I said.
"Who are you?" asked Radish.
I looked at her. She was surly, and, obviously, badly in need of a whipping.
"I am Tatankasa, Red Bull," I said, "the slave of Canka, Fire-Steel, of the Isbu Kaiila, of the Little-Stones band of the Kaiila, in a mixtrue of both Kaiila and Gorean.
I continued to look at her. I did not think that she was, objectively, a bad-looking woman. Beneath the ugly garment she wore there were the suggestions of an attractive figure. I wondered what she would look like naked and bound, kneeling at a man's feet, under his quirt.
"You are a slave," she said.
"So are you," I said.
"We do not wear collars," she said.
"You do not need collars to be recognized as slaves," I said.
She glared at me, angrily. I considered stripping her, and putting her to my feet.
"Many who are slaves do not wear collars," I said. "Many who are slaves do not even know that they are slaves."
"That is true," said Pumpkin, agreeably.
"Do not speak further to this person," said Radish, turning away.
"How long are you going to be in camp?" I asked.
"I am sorry," said Pumpkin. "I should not speak further to you now. It is the wish of Radish."
"Why not?" I asked.
"Waniyanpi are supposed to be loving, accommodating and pleasing," said Pumpkin. 'Waniyanpi' is a Kaiila expression. It means "tame cattle."
"And is Radish loving, accommodating and pleasing?" I asked.
"Not really," said Pumpkin. "That is an interesting thought," He looked at me. "We are leaving in the morning," he said.
"I told you not to talk to him," said Radish, from a few feet away.
"Please be quiet, Radish," said Pumpkin. She turned away, angrily.
"Sweetness be unto you," said Pumpkin.
"How far away is your compound?" I asked.
"Some one hundred pasangs from here," said Pumpkin.
"I di dnot know you had kaiila," I said.
"We do not," said Pumpkin. "We came afoot, dragging travois, laden with our produce, in the charge of a boy."
"I thought Radish was the leader of the expedition," I said.
"She is the Waniyanpi leader," he said. "We all, of course, must take our orders from our red masters."
"How is she who was the Lady Mira, of Venna?" I asked. The Lady Mira, of Venna, had been an agent of Kurii. She had been in political command, under Kog and Sardak, of a force of approximately a thousand mercenaries, the human contingent accompanying Kog and Sardak, and their death squad, into the Barrens. The military command of these mercenaries, also under Kog and Sardak, who would have retained supreme command, had been in the hands of Alfred, a mercenary captain from Port Olni. The chain of command, then, for most proacitcal purposes, except tactical situations, would have been Kurii, then the Lady Mira, and then Alfred, the captain from Port Olni. After the joint attack and massacure of a few weeks ago, the Lad Mira had been captured and, presumably because she had been found with soldiers, sent to a Waniyanpi compound. Alfred had managed to escape with a mounted force of perhaps some four hundred riders. He, presumably, had, by now, made his way back to the Ihanke, to civilization and safety. Small bands of warriors, the sorts which make up common war parties, would not be likely to attack a force of that size.
"The Lady Mira, of Venna?" asked Pumpkin.
"The blond woman, given to you by the red savages after the battle," I said. "I think you were going to call her 'Turnip. »
"Trunip, of course," said Pumpkin.
"How is she doing?" I asked.
"She is fitting in very nicely," he said. "She has embraced the teaching zealously. She is now a happy and confirmed Same."
"And what if she were not?" I asked.
"Then," said Pumpkin, "regrettably, we would have to put her out of the compound, into the Barrens, without food and water."
"You would kill her?" I said.
"No, no!" said Pumpkin. "Waniyanpi are not permitted to kill. We would only have to put her out."
"You would, then, let the Barrens do your killing for you," I said.
"She might survive," he said.
"Possibly," I said.
"It always makes us sad to have to put someone out," he said.
"I can imagine," I said.
"Surely you cannot expect us to permit the existence of false ideas in the compound?" he asked.
"Why not?" I asked.
"I do not know," he said.
"Perhaps you fear your beliefs, if presented with plausible alternatives, might fare badly?"
"No, no," he said. "Truth does not need to be afraid of falsity. Truth is not fearful and weak."
"I am glad to hear it," I said. "So what is wrong with having a few false ideas around?"
"It is against the teaching," said Pumpkin.
"Perhaps it is feared someone might believe one," I said.
"How could anyone do that?" he scoffed.
"Perhaps some depraved or benighted individual," I suggested.
"Perhaps," he said.
"Thus," I said, "ignorance is the bulwark of truth."
"Perhaps," granted Pumpkin.
"But here is an interesting thought," I said. "What if your beliefs are not true, but false. How would you ever find out about it?"
"I suppose we might not," said Pumpkin. "Thus, it is fortunate for us that our beliefs are true."
"How do you know?" I asked.
"It is one of our beliefs," he said.
"Sameness is a lie," I said. "And it is not even a subtle or plausible lie. It is obviously and patently a lie."
"It is not to be questioned," said Pumpkin. "Even if it is a lie it is a lie which lies at the very foundation of our society. It is the premise of our world. All worlds have their myths. The alternative to the myth is chaos."
"The alternative of falsehood," I said, "is not chaos, but truth."
"One must belive something," said Pumpkin.
"Try truth," I said.
"Would you like to see Trunip?" he asked.
"Is she here?" I asked.
"Yes," he said. "We did not wish to bring her, but the oy who was in charge of us picked her out to come along, thus giving us, appropriately, an exactly equal number of males and females."