Aside from the more obvious physical differences, that may be the one thing that most distinguishes men from women. We think differently, and so we do things differently. Many people – men mostly – get very upset by these differences, but can you imagine how boring life would be if we all thought and acted in exactly the same way? Actually, gentlemen, it’s much more fun this way.

Anyway, Gelane was making a fairly windy speech about how important he was when Chamdar’s now-audible ruminations brought my boastful nephew up short. The announcement, ‘Ctuchik will reward me if I kill this dolt’, definitely got Gelane’s attention – as well as the attention of the other Cultists. Father advised me later that two of the shaggily-dressed fanatics were very upset by what Chamdar revealed. Evidently Chamdar had prudently decided to bring a pair of bodyguards along.

The rambling of Ctuchik’s less than loyal underling went on and on – long enough at any rate for Gelane to regain his senses and realize just how much his swollen ego had been used to dupe him. When Chamdar’s day-dream reached its culmination and in his mind’s eye he was being exalted to first disciple-hood, Gelane gave him a quick demonstration of unrestrained Alornishness by punching him square in the face.

Chamdar reeled and fell, and his now-scrambled wits lost all control of his puppet, my nephew. With the evaporation of Chamdar’s hold on him, the full force of Gelane’s own foolishness struck him very nearly as hard as he’d just struck Chamdar. That wasn’t a good time for extended soul-searching, since Chamdar’s pair of disguised bodyguards whipped out some very ugly knives to rush to their employer’s defense. Fortunately, the other Cultists took the defense of Gelane to be a religious obligation, and their piety along those lines was commendable, to say the very least.

After Chamdar had fled and his bodyguards had been swarmed under, Gelane got hold of himself. ‘We’ve been tricked!’ he exclaimed. That was no priest of Belar!’

‘What shall we do, Godslayer?’ one hulking Alorn demanded. ‘Should we chase him down and kill him?’

‘Don’t ever call me that again!’ Gelane commanded. ‘I’m not the Godslayer! I’ve dishonored my name!’ He ripped off his bear-skin and violently hurled it into the fire. “The Bear-Cult is a lie and a deception!’

‘I don’t know about the rest of you,’ the first Alorn declared, ‘but I’m going to go find that priest and rip him up the middle!’ And they all dashed out to flounder around in the bushes.

That was very slick, Pol,’ father complimented me after he’d discarded his feathers. ‘Where did you learn how to do that?’

‘In Vo Wacune,’ I replied. ‘I had to force a confession out of an Asturian spy, and I didn’t much care for the conventional ways to do that. It’s fairly simple, actually. Someday when we’ve got some time, I’ll show you how to do it.’ I cocked my head to listen to the Alorns crashing through the brush. ‘Let’s wait until Gelane’s playmates go home before we collar him and drag him back to the barrel-works. I don’t know that we need to let the other Cultists know that we’ve been around.’

‘Truly,’ he agreed.

The heretic Cult members floundered around in the undergrowth for quite some time, but by then Chamdar was probably half-way to Camaar. ‘What do we do now, your Majesty?’ one of them asked Gelane as they trooped back to the fire.

‘Let’s just forget about that “your Majesty” business,’ Gelane told him. ‘That was nothing but a Grolim trick. I think we should all swear to keep this whole thing secret. Our neighbors are Sendars, so we’ll look like idiots if we start talking about the Bear-Cult as if it really meant something.’

The all agreed readily. Nobody really likes to look foolish. They swore on their mother’s graves, their swords – though they didn’t actually have swords – and their somewhat questionable honor that no word of their temporary amusement would ever pass their lips. Then Gelane sent them all home.

When he was alone, Gelane started to weep, and that’s when father and I came out of the woods.

‘Not too smooth there, was it, Gelane?’ father said dryly. ‘It’s very noble to believe that everybody always speaks the truth, but didn’t it occur to you that it might be just a trifle on the gullible side?’

Gelane didn’t seem surprised to see us. In spite of his display of poor judgement, he was still a fairly clever young man. ‘Who really was that fellow who called himself a priest, grandfather?’

‘His name’s Chamdar, and you’ve already guessed that he’s a Grolim. Was your head turned off, Gelane? Couldn’t you tell by the color of his skin and the shape of his eyes that he’s an Angarak?’

‘That wouldn’t make any difference here, father,’ I explained. ‘This is Sendaria, and I spent several centuries erasing any outward awareness of racial differences.’

‘Brotherhood’s a very nice thing, Pol,’ he said, ‘but if somebody who happens to be green is out to kill you, color blindness isn’t really a very useful trait. Let’s go back to town. We’ve got packing to do.’

‘Where are we going, grandfather?’ Gelane asked him.

‘I haven’t decided yet. We do have to get out of Sendaria, though.’

My heart sank. I knew what that meant.

‘Why don’t you buy yourself some new clothes, father?’ I asked him as we entered the city.

‘These are new, Pol.’

‘Oh? Which garbage heap did you find them on?’

‘Look a little closer, Pol,’ he replied. ‘I paid a Tol Honeth tailor a lot of money for these. The patches and frayed cuffs are just for show. The clothes are very well-made and they’ll last me for centuries.’

‘Couldn’t you afford shoes that matched?’

‘I didn’t want them to match. I want to look like an out-at-the-heels vagabond.’

‘I think you’ve succeeded far beyond your wildest dreams. It’s a costume, then?’

‘Of course it is. People don’t pay much attention to wandering tramps. When I wear these, I can go through a town or village and nobody’ll remember that I’ve been there after a day or two.’

‘Don’t you ever come off stage?’

‘I’m more interesting this way.’ He tossed that off with his usual flamboyance. ‘My real character’s rather boring. I could be a duke if you’d prefer, your Grace.’