"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."

"I did not want to die," she said. "I did not want to be put out to die."

"You had best pretend well to believe their teaching," said. "They would not,most likely, look lightly on being deceived in this respect."

"I do not want to live a life of hypocrisy," she said.

"Doubtless many live such a life in the compound of the Waniyanpi," I said.

"Should I try to believe their absurdities?" she asked.

"It might be easier on you, if you could," I said.

"But I am not a fool," she said.

"To be sure," I said, "it is easiest to subscribe to odd beliefs when they havebeen inculcated in childhood. The trenchment of eccentric beliefs is commonlyperpetrated most successfully on the innocent and defenseless, even moresuccessfully than on the ignorant and desperate."

"I am afraid of them," she said.

"They will treat you with dignity and respect," I said, "as a Same."

"Better a collar in the cities," she said, "better to be abused and sold from apublic platform, better to be a slave girl fearful and obedient at the feet ofher master."

"Perhaps," I said.

"I am afraid of them," she.

"Why?" I asked.

"Did you not see how they would not look at me? I am afraid they will make meashamed of my own body."

"In all things," I said, "remember that you are beautiful."

"Thank you," she whispered.

To be sure, the danger of which she spoke was quite real. It was difficult forone's values not to be affected by the values of those about them. Even themarvelous beauties and profundities of human sexuality, I knew, incrediblyenough, in some environments tended to trigger bizarre reactions of anxiety,embarrassment and shame. To the average Gorean such reactions would seemincomprehensible. Perhaps such environments, apart from semantic might simply beregarded, if any, as insane. How tragic, in particular, it is, to see suchreactions being absorbed by children.

"Do you truly think I am beautiful?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Then take me with you," she begged.

"No," I said.

"You would leave me with them?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Why?" she asked.

"It amuses me," I said.

"Tarsk!" she cried.

I held the quirt before her face. "You may kiss it," I told her, "or be beatenwith it."

She kissed the quirt, the supple, slim leather.

"Again," I told her, "lingeringly."

She complied. Then she looked up at me. "You called me a mercenary, ' she said.

"I was wrong," I said. "You are only a former mercenary."

"And what am I now?" she asked.

"Surely you can guess," I said.

"No!" she said.

"Yes," I assured her.

She struggled in the yoke, unavailingly. "I am helpless'" she said.

"Yes," I said.

She straightened her body. She tossed her head. "If you took me with you," shesaid, "I would doubtless be your slave."

"Totally," I told her.

"It is fortunate for me, then," she said, "that I will accompany the Waniyanpito their camp. There I will be free."