at the mesmerizingly slow flow
of the green water and hearing—overhearing, really—Dllenahkh debating some principle
of Sadiri philosophy with the settlement’s Chief Councillor, Darithiven.
“Of all the humans of the galaxy, we Sadiri have developed the greatest mental capacity,”
Dllenahkh contended. “We have realized our potential through use of the disciplines,
which enable us to control our thoughts, emotions, and urges and improve our ability
to process data. Without the disciplines we might still be powerful, but we would
be rudderless.”
Darithiven smiled the slightly condescending smile of a man who is prepared to humor
his opponent but not to yield the argument. “Your disciplines are indeed impressive.
Your pilots use them to navigate ships on interstellar routes, and because of themall Sadiri have acquired a reputation for impartiality and diligence. Even now, our
systems of justice and scientific endeavor continue to be headed by Sadiri. But here
we live simpler lives, with less to trouble our minds. We need only enough self-control
to maintain a harmonious society.” He extended his arms, embracing the view of his
settlement and his people like a proud father.
Dllenahkh actually hesitated before replying. “Your settlement is indeed well organized
and efficiently run. But there is more to the world, to the universe, than these waters.
Perhaps you do not wish to explore the galaxy yourself, but what of your children
and your children’s children? The earlier certain things are taught—”
The Chief Councillor shook his head and interrupted gently. “I hope you are not implying
that we limit our children by what we teach or do not teach. We have our own version
of the disciplines, and they are not lacking in rigor. It is simply that our goals
differ. Is that so inappropriate?”
By this time, I’d be almost slipping into the water from boredom as they went back
and forth on the question of the scope and purpose of the Sadiri disciplines. I could
see Darithiven’s point. To tell the truth, this was one of the sleepiest settlements
I’d ever encountered. People kept to themselves, not in an unfriendly fashion but
as if truly uninterested in our presence. We saw them coming and going—men up to the
river to fish, women to the nearby rice paddies and the other crop fields south of
the marshes, the remainder busy at home with their arts, crafts, studies, or whatever
else they chose to occupy themselves with. Whatever form of mental discipline they
employed, it clearly worked for them. The settlement had the same atmosphere of measured
efficiency that I’d encountered on the Sadiri homesteadings of my own province.
“How are the talks going?” I asked Dllenahkh.
His eyes lit up. “It has been most intriguing. They are, of course, quite attached
to their simplified variant of the disciplines, but I believe in time some of them
could be persuaded to return to the orthodox methods practiced by most Sadiri.”
I gave him a look. “Mmm-hm. So will your guys come here or will they go to you?”
“They would encourage males from our homesteadings to come here and are willing to
send in exchange groups that would be mostly female.”
“Sounds reasonable. Well done,” I congratulated him.
I was a little chagrined, actually. I’d been so cynical about this mission, and here
we were, already third-time lucky. It wasn’t storybook perfect—I could tell they’d
be debating for generations to come—but at least there was a foundation.
Dr. Daniyel told us at our evening meeting that it was time to wrap up and move on to explore other areas.
Dllenahkh, Nasiha, and Tarik reluctantly agreed. When I looked at their faces, I remembered
Dllenahkh saying to me that all Sadiri shared a low-level telepathic bond. If that
were indeed the case, visiting the marshes of Candirú must have been like being immersed
in a constant buzz of
of the green water and hearing—overhearing, really—Dllenahkh debating some principle
of Sadiri philosophy with the settlement’s Chief Councillor, Darithiven.
“Of all the humans of the galaxy, we Sadiri have developed the greatest mental capacity,”
Dllenahkh contended. “We have realized our potential through use of the disciplines,
which enable us to control our thoughts, emotions, and urges and improve our ability
to process data. Without the disciplines we might still be powerful, but we would
be rudderless.”
Darithiven smiled the slightly condescending smile of a man who is prepared to humor
his opponent but not to yield the argument. “Your disciplines are indeed impressive.
Your pilots use them to navigate ships on interstellar routes, and because of themall Sadiri have acquired a reputation for impartiality and diligence. Even now, our
systems of justice and scientific endeavor continue to be headed by Sadiri. But here
we live simpler lives, with less to trouble our minds. We need only enough self-control
to maintain a harmonious society.” He extended his arms, embracing the view of his
settlement and his people like a proud father.
Dllenahkh actually hesitated before replying. “Your settlement is indeed well organized
and efficiently run. But there is more to the world, to the universe, than these waters.
Perhaps you do not wish to explore the galaxy yourself, but what of your children
and your children’s children? The earlier certain things are taught—”
The Chief Councillor shook his head and interrupted gently. “I hope you are not implying
that we limit our children by what we teach or do not teach. We have our own version
of the disciplines, and they are not lacking in rigor. It is simply that our goals
differ. Is that so inappropriate?”
By this time, I’d be almost slipping into the water from boredom as they went back
and forth on the question of the scope and purpose of the Sadiri disciplines. I could
see Darithiven’s point. To tell the truth, this was one of the sleepiest settlements
I’d ever encountered. People kept to themselves, not in an unfriendly fashion but
as if truly uninterested in our presence. We saw them coming and going—men up to the
river to fish, women to the nearby rice paddies and the other crop fields south of
the marshes, the remainder busy at home with their arts, crafts, studies, or whatever
else they chose to occupy themselves with. Whatever form of mental discipline they
employed, it clearly worked for them. The settlement had the same atmosphere of measured
efficiency that I’d encountered on the Sadiri homesteadings of my own province.
“How are the talks going?” I asked Dllenahkh.
His eyes lit up. “It has been most intriguing. They are, of course, quite attached
to their simplified variant of the disciplines, but I believe in time some of them
could be persuaded to return to the orthodox methods practiced by most Sadiri.”
I gave him a look. “Mmm-hm. So will your guys come here or will they go to you?”
“They would encourage males from our homesteadings to come here and are willing to
send in exchange groups that would be mostly female.”
“Sounds reasonable. Well done,” I congratulated him.
I was a little chagrined, actually. I’d been so cynical about this mission, and here
we were, already third-time lucky. It wasn’t storybook perfect—I could tell they’d
be debating for generations to come—but at least there was a foundation.
Dr. Daniyel told us at our evening meeting that it was time to wrap up and move on to explore other areas.
Dllenahkh, Nasiha, and Tarik reluctantly agreed. When I looked at their faces, I remembered
Dllenahkh saying to me that all Sadiri shared a low-level telepathic bond. If that
were indeed the case, visiting the marshes of Candirú must have been like being immersed
in a constant buzz of
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