Chapter 6
“This is not good,” Jeffers said as he sat at the desk in Minna’s room. Emotions from the dinner drove Minna to pace in a tight circle across the balcony door, while Cadlius again stood at the door.
But Cadlius did not stand still. “First thing, Varlet Minna, before I forget, I don’t appreciate your comment this evening that I ought to know about the need to confront Justice’s worshipers. I don’t need them asking why I should know these things.”
“Calm yourself,” Minna said dismissively. “There are a thousand possible reasons why I said what I did and the Matron has no reason to think any are better than any other.” You could have lost a family member to Justice worshipers, or maybe somebody from your family was seduced into joining a Justice cult.”
“You’re taking risks with my future and do not like it.”
Minna studied him a long moment, then blinked and softly said, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“Thank you, my lady,” Cadlius said with a formal bow.
“Not to change the subject or anything,” said Jeffers, “but did either of you see anything tonight that hinted even distantly at our making progress?”
“I’ve decided I don’t like your form of combat,” Cadlius answered, all traces of anger now gone. “With iron weapons, a combatant can hardly ignore when he has been hit. The way you fight, you can deal a death blow to somebody’s position and still have her smile back at you and say, ‘Ha, missed.’”
Jeffers paused from his writing. “It would be much better if verbal combat gave us some way of telling for sure when you had penetrated another’s defenses. Even if I was the one who ended up the most deeply scarred, it would be a small cost to pay for discovering if I am right or wrong.”
From her end of the room, Minna answered, “Unfortunately, this isn’t a fantasy world where things like that happen. We’ve got to deal with the world that exists.”
Cadlius said, “Well, if you care about my opinion, I think you handled yourself quite well out there for the most part.”
Minna stopped. “What do you mean, ‘for the most part?’”
“Nothing serious, m’lady.” Cadlius answered hastily.
The Varlet waited.
“It’s only that, as a soldier, we are told not to lose our temper. People who fight when angry are careless; they can’t plan their maneuvers carefully and they tend to swing too hard so that they cannot recover quickly, which leaves them vulnerable. At times, it seemed, your anger made you swing a little too quick and with not as much accuracy as you could have.”
“What do you know about such things?” Minna snarled.
“I’m afraid he’s right,” Jeffers said. “That bit about it being wrong to harm one group in order to deter another, for example. Whatever mistakes Terrence may have made, if any, they need not be metaphysical. Rather than presupposing that people can call upon Will’s Power, she’s free to assume the opposite, that behavior falls fully within the realm of cause and effect and one of the things that can effect behavior is the threat of punishment.”
“I think you misinterpreted my objection.” said Minna. “I was saying exactly the same thing you said, that a good person — a kind person — would not want to punish.”
Jeffers shrugged to dismiss the subject.
Cadlius commented, “As far as I’m concerned, you won.”
“I don’t think the concepts of ‘winning’ and ‘losing’ apply here,” said Minna. “What are we trying to accomplish? If we are trying to reach a better, more accurate mutual understanding of the truth of the matter then there are no winners or losers. It is an effort best undertaken cooperatively, with participants voluntarily agreeing to limit their choice of maneuvers to rules of logic. Jeffers has given us names for these maneuvers; ‘modus ponens,’ ‘disjunctive syllogism,’ and ‘D’Morgan’s rule.’ ‘Winning’ and ‘losing’ better applies if one’s goal is to convince others, not to seek truth. Those who make this their goal give themselves access to additional maneuvers such as ‘ad hominem,’ ‘straw man,’ and ‘red herring.’ But these maneuvers are designed to convince others while concealing the truth behind a murky film of innuendo and emotion rather than expose it to clear and unobstructed light or reason.”
Jeffers spoke from behind his book. “My recommendation, m’lady, is that we prepare to use these maneuvers of rhetoric. Logic is as poor a tool for convincing others as rhetoric is at revealing truth. Since our only route out of here that does not risk combat involves convincing them to let us leave, I think we should fight dirty. If rhetoric works, we should use it.”
“It saddens me, Jeffers, to see how the world has transformed you into a cynic,” Minna said.
“Would you like evidence?” answered Jeffers. “If logic were convincing, then you would expect it to be a common tool of merchants and politicians. Instead, there is no better way to collect a quick set of examples of the informal fallacies than to listen to merchants trying to sell their wares or politicians trying to sell themselves. Logic requires two things of people that they are unwilling to give. One is effort. Rhetorical arguments are fast and easy. They are almost fun to listen to. A good rhetoritician can keep an audience’s attention for hours. Logical arguments, on the other hand, are slow and plodding. They are likely to bore a reader before they enlighten her. Logic also demands humility. Rhetoric plays on a person’s ego; it offers praise for those who agree with the speaker and condemnation for those who disagree as if praise and blame themselves were arguments. Logic places the measure of such things outside of the individual, and so deflates the individual.”
Cadlius answered, “Merchants and politicians use rhetoric because logic preserves truth, and the truth may well be that the politician and magician are wrong.”
Jeffers shrugged, “Is that supposed to imply that I am mistaken?”
Claudius spread his arms in surrender. “I’m not trained for this.”
“The type of combat you are trained for involves using that sword you carry,” Jeffers answered. “With the things I learned at dinner tonight, I’m more willing than I was to fight my way out of here, and I want to discuss taking a few others out of this place when we leave.”
“The Laurellans in the temple dungeon,” Minna guessed.
“Right. I’ve fought with the Laurellans in Thane Tiempko’s War. I know what they are like. Like the Earl, they oppose punishment. Unlike the Earl, they believe that no race has been given an internal sense whereby their feelings tell them what has intrinsic merit and a right to force their likes and dislikes on all other forms of life. They are willing to go to great lengths to accommodate the widest variety of creatures, including those Gatians want to exterminate, such as vampires and lycanthropes. I’m sure the Laurellans in the Temple dungeon were on a mission to capture prisoners that they could then learn from and teach, and thereby reach some state of compromise between the needs of hobgoblins and those of other Laurellans.”
“We do not have the ability to break anybody out of a temple dungeon. There are at least a dozen well armed, elite guards stationed there.”
“I might be able to arrange something.”
“I will not fight your war,” said Cadlius. “Minna taught me the evil in cutting into the flesh of another and of risking the life of another. Disagreeing with the laws of any sovereign community does not give one the right to maim or kill the people who enforce those laws, unless the laws themselves are the very essence of evil and cruelty.”
“And you don’t think that sacrificing five months of Minna’s life, all of Zin’s, and who-knows-how-much of the lives of a score of elves is pernicious enough?”
“No,” Cadlius answered, but the way he lowered his head and turned half away showed that he struggled with the answer. “I know, taking five months out of somebody’s life is not some minor inconvenience better put aside in the name of peace. But how does five months compare to the loss of a guard’s limb, or his life? Even if you are sent to the dungeons, Varlet Minna, the Earl may have a message here in a month demanding your release.”
Jeffers waved a hand. “Zin, Cadlius. Don’t forget Zin and the elves.”
“We can’t save them without invading the Temple. That is beyond our power.”
“Cadlius is right,” Minna said. “And I can understand his reluctance to attack the guards. Peace requires some willingness to subordinate one’s own judgment to that of the government. Too many people have too many different ideas of what is right and wrong, even in a place like this, for each to pick and choose the laws. As for Zin, I have not given up on him, but our only real chance of getting him out of here alive is convincing the Matron or the Council to hand him over to us. We have no case to make that she hand over the Laurellans.”
Jeffers slumped back in his chair. “If that’s what it takes, Zin will die, and I would place no wagers on your getting out of here unless I was given good odds. Tell me, how many historical examples can you name where a small group of people entered a community and completely transformed its way of thinking in two weeks?”
“Sifian missionaries have converted entire tribes.”
“How, by reason? Or was it by rhetoric — by convincing humans that they have a superior claim to getting the things they want over all other types of creatures that exist? And I doubt the natives completely ignored the legionnaires standing behind the missionaries.”
“People can’t just ignore arguments. The Council will either have to answer our objections or accept them.”
Jeffers turned to Cadlius, “Repeat what you said earlier about how a person can take a mortal blow to their position and still answer, ‘Ha, you missed.’ She didn’t seem to hear you the first time.”
Minna spoke instead. “If they still think we are wrong, then we must find out why they think the argument failed and show them their mistake. Look, I know that it won’t be easy, but reason is the only weapon available to those who have foresworn violence.”
“Rhetoric is a better weapon.”
“Not for defending truth.” Minna went to the door and opened it. As expected, a single Temple Guardsmen stood a few paces beyond. “Excuse me, but would you please have a copy of the city’s charter delivered here for me? Thank you.” She had the door closed before the Guardsman could object.
Turning to Cadlius, she added, “I still want you to find us a way out of here, in case we fail. I want Jeffers to help me.”
With a nod of agreement, Cadlius headed out the door.
“Remember, Jeffers, no rhetoric,” Minna said as she pulled herself onto her bed.
“Remember, Varlet, reason may not support the conclusions you want it to,” Jeffers responded.
“Then lets get to work seeing just what conclusions reason can support.”
Their conversation had gone on for just a few moments when a knock at the door interrupted them. Minna stared at Jeffers, who stared back.
“I respect your shyness, Jeffers, but in this land it would be—awkward—for a woman, much less a Varlet, to answer her own door when she had a man in her room who could answer it for her.” She gestured to the door and Jeffers moved to answer it.
A Guardsman stood on the other end, holding out a rolled scroll. “The Varlet asked for this. It is the inn’s own copy of the charter. Please treat it well. Terrence is having a scribe pen the Varlet’s own copy, but it will not be done for a couple of days.”
Jeffers took the scroll and thanked the Guardsman, than closed the door and turned the charter over to Minna.
She grabbed for it eagerly, snapped open the ribbon that held it shut, and rolled it out on her bed. The corners of her packs and items she had already removed from them hold the corners back. Quickly, she scanned for key words that would indicate the passages of interest to her. The monotonous penmanship and the smallness of the print thwarted her. Settling herself on her bed, she started a more detailed search. Meanwhile, Jeffers returned to the desk and his book.
“Here it is,” Minna said after a few moments. She glanced up and found Jeffers ready to copy down her words. “The court recognizes that Sir Terrion is a follower of the traditional view, that he believes in the existence of the divine twins Justice and Will, that Justice demands the suffering of those who do evil and that Will gives people the power to choose between doing good or evil. The Court of Malikii wishes to stress that we deny the existence of Justice and Will, and deny that any good can be found in the suffering of others, even the suffering of the guilty. Still, the Court agrees to allow the people of K’non to live in accordance with their beliefs, just as we insist that the people of K’non remember that they are citizens of Malikii Province subject ultimately to the Earl’s law.”
Bouncing off of her bed to pace again by the door, Minna shouted, “Ha! There it is. Just as I thought, the charter does not allow the Matron to force anybody from Malikii to live according to her rules.”
“I don’t think the Matron reads it that way,” said Jeffers without pausing from his writing.
“She’s twisting the words.”
“Or you are,” said Jeffers. “Any bets on who the Matron would pick as the person misinterpreting the charter?”
“It’s here in black and white,” answered Minna, slapping the scroll.
Jeffers folded his pen in his book. “The only thing there in black and white are squiggles of ink on paper. Meaning comes from the mind of the person who looks upon the squiggles. They are not an inherent part of the squiggles themselves.”
“Words are meant to communicate.”
“True,” said Jeffers. “The question is, what do these words communicate? That is a question nobody can answer without bringing to bear a whole mind full of background knowledge and assumptions. One of the principles governing the interpretation of the spoken or written word is called the Principle of Charity. It states that, in determining which of several possible interpretations is correct, you must start out with the assumption that what you are interpreting contains as much truth as possible. Of course, since none of us have any privileged access to truth, we can only evaluate translations according to what we believe to be true. Two people with different assumptions about what is true or false looking upon the same document will inevitably come up with different translations. Then both of them can say that they found justification for their position in the same document, even though their interpretations contradict each other.
“Are you accusing me of circular reasoning?” Minna asked.
“Well, yes. But I’m really saying that a little bit of circular reasoning is an essential part of interpretation. You can’t read a document or listen to somebody speak without begging the question in some ways. In this case, you interpret the charter under the assumption that the Matron may not force you to testify. Then on the basis of that interpretation and the Principle of Charity you draw the conclusion that the Matron may not force you to testify.”
“What do you think it says, then?”
“I wouldn’t dream to guess, at least not yet. If I were a judge in this case, however, I would have to take the Matron’s interpretation over yours. You’ve read just one paragraph. She has read the entire document and has spent several years working on creating a consistent interpretation of it taken as a whole. Doubtless, there have been other conflicts between K’non and the Earl, and the Matron knows them and the decisions reached. Doubtless, as well, there are other documents governing the relationship between Malikii and K’non. The Matron is familiar with them as well. All of this is relevant to what that passage really says, but you don’t know any of it.
“Of course, I can’t forget that you are of the Earl’s court and of the Earl’s dungeon, where your daily task was to enforce the Earl’s law. That counts in your favor, but doesn’t outweigh having a working understanding of the document itself.”
“And I have given myself two weeks to acquire a working relationship of this document; to do what the Matron has spent her life doing,” Minna mumbled, slumping over as if she had already been defeated.
Jeffers went to the door and spoke to the Guardsman. “Varlet Minna is in need of whatever documents you have relevant to the Charter’s interpretation, particularly amendments and judgments relating to conflicts between K’non’s right to enforce its laws on its people and the Earl’s right to govern all of Malikii Province including K’non. Thank you.” He closed the door quickly and returned to his seat.
The Guardsman handed over a leather sack full of scrolls about a bell after Jeffers had asked for them. Minna and Jeffers scanned the titles for those that looked promising, then sat the others aside for when they had extra time. Near sunset, Minna ordered an evening snack. After dark, Cadlius returned.
“This was just a preliminary trip, and I found no surprises,” the warrior reported. “Except, a member of the city watch kept an eye on me all the time. That will make sneaking out of here more difficult. On the positive side, most of the members of the watch are not trained guards. Fifteen to twenty are paid soldiers. The rest are mill workers, farmers, and common laborers given a suit of armor and a weapon for a half-day and put under the command of the watch officer. They aren’t even paid; the cost of their labor is deducted from what they owe in taxes or tithings.
“I’ve watched the gate. The guards are taking a closer look than they used to at everything and everybody that leaves, though this time of day there are much more people coming than going. I’ll have another look tomorrow. I never saw anybody on the streets with their head or face covered. That just doesn’t seem to be the style of dress here, so we would stand out if we tried sneaking out under shawls or with our faces hidden in the cowls of hoods.
“As for the walls, there is no place which is not observable from at least two towers. There’s no chance of going over the wall except at night; and going over the wall means taking no horses and none of the provisions that horses can carry. It will take us days to walk back to the nearest town. Meanwhile they’ll be tracking us, using hounds and riding horseback I would assume.”
“You’re saying that there is no way out, then,” Minna said.
“Not at all. The people who set up the defenses for this town made no obvious mistakes, but I never assumed that they would. Getting out will take something less than obvious, like stealing a couple of logs and floating downstream.”
Minna looked at him hopefully.
“I checked. There are iron grates where the river flows through the wall, and two guard towers at each point since these are considered vulnerable areas. We are going to have to go over the wall, and leave our horses here. Our only chance is to escape at night, finding some way to get well away from here before morning, and covering our tracks as we leave. I’ll do some more looking around in the morning, so I will be getting up early. Have a pleasant evening.” He went to his room; within moments the lantern light underneath his door went out.
The idea of getting some sleep suddenly struck Minna as being extraordinarily brilliant. She sent Jeffers to his room with a couple of scrolls, cleared off her bed, and turned out her own lantern.
As she lay in the darkness, one of the thoughts that has been in her head all afternoon returned with a blinding force. Zin will be sacrificed to the K’non godling Justice. Zin will die. Minna remembered his face and recalled some of things he has said when she interviewed him shortly after his admission. Like all criminals, he claimed that he was being persecuted, and he believed it. He had some qualities that certainly needed to be eliminated; but it was simply wasteful to destroy the entire man to get rid of the parts responsible for his crimes.
Worries played with each other in her mind. Eventually, they compelled her to relight the lantern. She selected one of the scrolls and began reading.