“Tigrepard!” The abbot could see nothing but a hint of something yellowish-red in the long grass of the garth. Vaemar screamed and leapt. In an instant the two great felinoids were locked in battle, flattening the plants. The abbot groped for his own weapon, but he could not use it for fear of hitting Vaemar.
It was over in an instant. The tigrepard was a big one, but Vaemar was bigger and quicker. He stood back, panting a little, as it died, then removed the ears.
“Your defenses are not all they should be, father,” he remarked. “I noticed a patch of the west wall looked rather tumble-down.”
“And you have reminded me what the price may be for relaxing eternal vigilance,” said the abbot, holding his voice steady with an effort. “I would not have lasted long on my own. I shall have a repair party to the west wall tomorrow.”
“No, father, not tomorrow, tonight. At this time of year tigrepards travel in prides. But sweep the grounds first of all.”
“I am in no position to disregard your advice. You seem to know a lot about them.”
“Of course. We are cats, too.”
Vaemar watched the sweeping of the monastery grounds by parties of well-armed novices under the eyes of the monastery’s hunters, and then turned back to the abbot. What had he been saying? Ah, yes, he’d talked of doubt.
“But how can you maintain your faith in the Bearded God if you are troubled by doubts? Don’t you doubt His very existence?”
“Oh, lots of times. I think He wants me to. So I am not troubled by doubts; if God didn’t want me to doubt, I wouldn’t be able to. He wants me to pursue truth, and that inevitably requires doubt about everything. There was a time once when I suddenly realized that I was in danger of becoming an atheist for religious reasons. When I saw it in those terms, I laughed for a week, and felt the inner warmth that told me God was pleased that I had seen the joke. But we are getting off the subject, and although I would be very proud if I managed to convert you, I don’t expect to do so any time soon. So we shall leave the theology for another time and return to the politics, if you will.
“We live in very interesting times, as the old Chinese curse had it. And hence very dangerous times. We need the very best brains to see the possibilities and to guide the people wisely. We need a kzin in our political system very badly, and no other is as well suited as you. That is why I think it is your duty.”
Vaemar pondered. The abbot was a wise man, Vaemar could sense it. He was also a good man, a man of integrity and honor. A strange sort of honor; turning the other cheek when struck was something hard to even think about. Vaemar sensed that there was something deep about this, something even few human beings could fully grasp. To not fight back when you could, that was paradoxical, but maybe it was a very clever strategy. Perhaps it was something to do with destroying your enemy by turning him into a friend. He would think about this some time.
But was the abbot right? Was it truly urgent that he play a role in the political turmoil? His instincts were violently opposed to the very thought. And yet…Sometimes the instincts were wrong and had to be bridled. Human beings were good at doing that, often too good. Kzin didn’t get a lot of practice. Maybe they weren’t good enough. And it would certainly be needed if he were in politics. And he, Vaemar, was much better than any other kzin he knew at holding off the gut reaction and taking time for reflection. The cortico-thalamic pause, as an ancient Earth writer had called it. Vaemar’s sire had seen this as one of the strengths of man, and one he wanted his people to acquire. Perhaps, Vaemar thought, he was the right kzin for the job.
“How is this done, this becoming a politician?” Vaemar asked cautiously.
“The local member of the bundestag, a conservative, died last week. Old age officially, exacerbated by the time under Occupation. We shall be having a by-election within a month. I would strongly support your candidature for the conservative party. There is a natural platform already made. The liberals are planning to drain part of Grossgeister Swamp, and we are mounting opposition. I take it that you are not in favor of draining the swamp?”
“It would be madness. We have a rich and wonderful ecology here, which would be devastated. What are they thinking of?”
“Building housing for the poor, who are more likely to vote for them, so as to change this electorate to give a majority who would support them. They know the locals oppose the idea, and are playing it as being kind to those who have to live in tumbledown slums in Munchen.”
“Well, why not improve the housing in Munchen?”
“Needed for commercial purposes. So they say. I think it’s because they have a huge majority in the city and want to take some of it away from where it is wasted and gain another electorate. This one is big in area but sparsely populated.”
Vaemar thought hard. The abbot was a clever man. He knew what Vaemar would think about draining the swamp, and was putting his case for Vaemar fighting it officially. There might be good arguments in favor of draining the swamp, but if it was a political gambit then he, Vaemar, would fight it tooth and claw. Metaphorically only, of course. More prosaically, he’d be using words. But words, he knew, could be as powerful as teeth or claws or much heavier weapons. A kzin warrior training, at his level, required an understanding of how to motivate troops, of how to get the best out of them using words and body language.
These things had been neglected the first time the kzin found themselves in a serious war. Too many of their aristocrats and young officers desperate for Names had been unable to propose a plan in such a way that their staff dared to point out potential weaknesses. Rarrgh had told him: “I have seen many die from that mistake.” This was, perhaps, not altogether different. Thinking of it as combat, using ideas and words as weapons, somehow made him feel a lot better about it. He would vanquish his opponents! Not as satisfying as physical combat, but more real and with more serious consequences than chess.
“Very well, my friend and adviser. If you truly believe it is my duty and that I am needed, then I will do it, though it will sadden me greatly to take time from mathematics and history. And I rather think that if I go down this path, I shall have little time for anything else. What exactly must I do?”
Boniface smiled, as much as anyone ever does when facing a kzin. His mouth turned up at the corners and his eyes crinkled. “Thank you, my friend and one-time student. I believe it is the best thing for all of us on Wunderland that you do this. I shall put your name forward to the committee. They will have several candidates, I daresay, and the selection committee will interview all of them. I shall have to explain rather a lot of things to you.”
“So there is hope for me. The selection committee may reject me,” Vaemar reflected out loud.
“They might be that stupid. I don’t think so, but it is possible. It depends on the alternatives. You will, of course, do your best to get selected.”
“Yes, of course,” Vaemar said without any enthusiasm. And he would indeed have to do his best, any less would be dishonorable. Whatever doing his best might mean.
“What is it that makes this urgent?” Vaemar asked.
The abbot looked up at the silent stars. “Many small things. And just possibly one big thing. You know I have many sources of information, some not perhaps as reliable as others. And urgent is a word with many nuances.”
“I do not understand you,” Vaemar told him.
The abbot sighed. “There are some hints, some fragments which I have pieced together. I may be wrong. I hope I am.”
“Go on.”
“I have some reason to think there may be something out there. Further along the spiral arm. Something coming this way. You know, of the few sentient species in the galaxy that we have ever recorded, the thing I notice is how much we share. We can understand in some limited way what sort of things drive us. All men are brothers. Well, cousins at least, and we know this from genetics. But it goes deeper than that. You and I are very different in our genetics, but the universe has shaped us, and we have responded in ways which although different show striking similarities. We are both made up of star-stuff, both evolved in the Goldilocks Zone through similar sets of fantastic improbabilities. We both understand what truth and honor and justice mean, and they are important to both of us. You have your Fanged God, and we our Bearded God, but they might almost be two faces of the same entity. Both of them demand truth, honor and justice of us.”