Into the thinking kingdoms - Alan Dean Foster [63]
They were taken to a large chamber that was more like a comfortable living room than a theater of interrogation and directed to seat themselves opposite an empty, curved table. A trio of monks, two men and one woman all of serious mien and middle age, marched in. As soon as they took their chairs, the police official stepped forward and saluted by pressing his open palm to his forehead and then pulling it quickly away in a broad, sweeping gesture.
“Here are the ones you sent us to bring, Exalted Savant.”
Simna leaned over to whisper to his friend. “Hoy, let me guess. These are the right high and mighty Guardians of Right Thinking. If you ask me, they look a little bent. I like the gold embroidery on those white robes, though.”
“You like anything gold,” Ehomba snapped.
The swordsman weighed his friend’s comment. “Not always. When I was a stripling I remember a certain aunt whose mouth was full of gold teeth. Whenever she bent to kiss me I would cry. I thought her teeth were solid metal, like little gold swords, and that she was going to eat me up.”
“Be quiet,” the herdsman admonished him, “and maybe we can get out of here without any fuss if we satisfy them as to our purpose in being in their country.” Behind him and slightly to his right, Ahlitah sat on his haunches and busied himself cleaning his face, utterly indifferent to however the humans, friends and strangers alike, might elect to proceed.
“Welcome to Tethspraih.” The man in the middle folded his hands on the table before him and smiled. His expression was, as best as Ehomba could tell, genuine.
“Funny sort of way you’ve got of welcoming strangers,” Simna retorted promptly. Ehomba gave him a sharp nudge in the ribs.
The woman was instantly concerned. “Were you wounded while being brought here? Are you in pain? Or are you suffering from injuries incurred while coming down from the Aniswoar Mountains?”
“We are unhurt.” Ehomba eyed her curiously. “How did you know we came from those mountains? We could as easily have entered your land from the east, or the west.”
Simna commented sarcastically. “I know how, long bruther. A little birdie told them.”
The monk seated on the left, with a pleasant round face and twinkling eyes, sat a little straighter. “That’s right! That’s exactly right.” Lowering his voice, he murmured to his associates. “They have been talking to citizens.”
“No,” insisted the man in the middle. “I think he is just perceptive.”
“Funny.” The woman was staring at Simna. “He doesn’t look perceptive.”
Ehomba hastened to draw the conversation away from his companion. “We were told that we were brought here because our thinking was ‘not in alignment’ with the kind of thinking you have decreed for this country. I never heard of such a thing. How can you decree what people can think?”
“Not ‘what,’” the woman corrected him. “‘How.’ It’s the way people think that we are concerned with. What they think about is not our concern.”
“Absolutely not,” added the man on the far end. “That would constitute an inexcusable invasion of privacy.”
Ehomba was unconvinced. “And telling people how to think does not?”
“Not at all.” The beaming monk in the center unfolded his hands and placed them flat on the table. The subdued light in the chamber made the gold symbols on his robe dance and sparkle. “It leads to a thriving and prosperous society. Wouldn’t you agree that what you’ve seen of Tethspraih is flourishing, that the people are as healthy and attractive as their surroundings?”
“I would,” the herdsman conceded. Not only had these people allowed him and Simna to keep their weapons during the interrogation, but the litah had also been permitted to accompany them into this inner sanctum.