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Justness—Those who have gained some knowledge of truth, reason, and empathy may use it to pursue an ascent in justice. Without the three preceding virtues, justice would be nothing but chance-of-the-moment emotion.
Reason—The Ascent to Reason is more challenging than it appears, at least for our kind. In the Golden One definition, the first step of the ascent is control of temper. We can be subject to blind furies when the animal brain reawakens in response to what may or may not be a threat. The smell of blood, for example—I know many men who are indifferent or barely aware of the odor, but it sets a Golden One on edge, ready for what your behaviorists call “fight-or-flight.” Humans seldom appreciate how quickly this can turn even the best Golden One dangerous. Under certain stimulus, our response is as quick as a leg-kick to a tap on the patella for a human. Reason must intercede, and quickly, or a tragedy may happen.
Courage—Too many of my kind consider only the physical side of courage to matter. Of course, when the Reapers are shrieking on the other side of the door, it takes physical courage to kick it open and throw in the gasoline bomb. For those who’ve seen much battle in the fight against the Kur, they know there is also an ethical component to courage. A general must be able to order his men to die and be able to move on to the next decision, letting go of his own failure if necessary, as long as he learned by it.
Fortitude—Life does not favor us all equally. A good deal of chance determines one’s fate. I have seen enough of life and battle to have a soldier’s realism about happy endings and just outcomes. The practice of the Virtue of Fortitude in adversity means keeping your other virtues even when it seems fate itself fights against you. Nothing inspires admiration more than seeing an impoverished man carefully scrubbing the stains out of his one shirt with a toothbrush and a bit of soap, or an exhausted charwoman taking a laboratory skills class.
Salubrity—This is another collection of good habits, a very big barn that holds many different species of animal. It can mean personal hygiene, appropriate dress, physical fitness, attention to care of one’s teeth and hair, and proper grooming of the feet. Even getting enough sleep in an environment conducive to restoration and repose is part of Salubrity. While I have been filthy and tired many, many times in my life, I restore myself at the first reasonable opportunity. Appearance is deceptive, true, and the cleanliness of one’s hair reveals nothing about the quality of the thoughts passing beneath, but I have found more often than not that how one presents oneself is self-fulfilling. It aids one’s ascent like a mountaineer’s stick or can hasten a descent as well. Present yourself to the world as what you wish to be, whatever you are. I have been long among men and for much of that time those I met thought of our kind as bloodthirsty savages. By keeping my hair trimmed, my teeth and nails polished, my dress neat and orderly, my speech minimal, brief, and to the point, I was able to begin changing a lifetime’s prejudice and ignorance in a matter of moments. English is difficult, but, with practice, you can learn to speak better than most of the people you meet.
Industry—This is a virtue that can mean both quality and quantity of your work. Part of this is how your work affects others: a Golden One who keeps an estate that supports nine families will benefit from extra respect for making it possible for others to honestly earn their bread and trade their butter. Industry can also mean accumulating the necessary skills to take your role in family and society.
Generosity—This is the final virtue. Full exercise of this virtue’s path is possible only if the others are practiced and a few perfected. Generosity can mean hospitality to friends and visitors, the practice of charity, spending time and skill in helping others, acting as an example and mentor to the next generation. It is the virtue that gives the most satisfaction of all of them. A day spent in practicing generosity is a day you will look back on with pride.
These are in my own order, though there are Golden One philosophies that place them in different groupings of thirds. There are the “at all times” virtues; the “daily” group; and finally the “endeavor” group, which includes those that rise to prominence above the others when carrying out a great duty to yourself or others. Sometimes, sadly, it is necessary to lie or become a coward to survive. I do not believe in self-immolation to keep to a philosophical principle. Some human philosophers have researched our Rhapsodies and drawn their own conclusions, recasting them as mind, body, and spirit. If it makes their life better and allows them to avoid or ease an ache, I certainly do not object.
I apologize to anyone whom I’ve offended with this digression. I’ve no wish to proselytize. The Golden One Rhapsodies have found some human adherents and followers among those who work closely with us. To my mind, this is a positive sign for our future. I’m impressed with the human Judeo-Christian ethical system and have done my best to read a little of its major contributors. I see nothing in the Rhapsodies that prevents harmony between our strains of sentience beyond a few home-planet death rituals that humans may find distasteful.
• • •
The less said about the rest of my introduction to the palace, the better. It turned out that the vet mostly worked with horses, and the “kennels” housed a mix of dogs and Gray Ones who rotated between landscaping work, family farm duties, and nearby road maintenance, depending on the season. The vet had to look me up in a Xenoguide to determine normal blood pressure and heartbeat. His issue was badly out-of-date, and it had some bordering-on-laughable illustrations. It seemed not many Golden Ones made it to the other side of the Appalachians.
They installed me behind the White Palace in the kennels—you could call it a barn or stable, divided into dog runs, chicken coops, and a few stalls for horses. In the white-painted basement, which still smelled faintly of pigs, there was some aged milking machinery along with a few partitions about the size of a mechani
c’s bay where the other Xenos slept and recreated.
The Gray Ones of the White Palace loved their work and their life. There were three of them, just enough to set up a small tribal hierarchy of a chief and two followers. They were all well into maturity, so the burning need to prove themselves and court females had faded into comradeship of long standing. They had easy labor and superb food and a comfortable dwelling—they were probably the happiest residents of the White Palace.
When I first saw them, I had thought I might be able to impress myself on them enough to take over the role of chief, as escape would be easier in a small group. Perhaps if I had worked with them every day, we would have jelled, but my schedule and theirs differed. They always worked with daylight; my schedule was irregular and required frequent overnights.
They did give me some training, mostly on special rules of the road for the Coal Country, signal flare notations, and a few military hand signals.
The most interesting of the road rules was the practice of following the firemen on calls. When a group of firemen in one of their vehicles had their whirling, blinking signal lights on, armed men of the Kurian Order in vehicles were to drop everything and follow behind and offer assistance, unless they were waved off by one of the firemen. I thought this a very strange rule until I learned the real role of the Coal Country firemen.
As for the signal flares, it was a useful way of communicating in the mountains for divided parties with no radio. They were visible in all but the heaviest weather and loud enough to attract attention for miles. I learned the signals for “objective sighted” and “assistance required” and “return to base.” Any of the paramilitary commanders in the field had a corporal or two trailing him with a box of signal flares and a special small mortar for firing them.
They must not have expected much of me tactically, for I only learned the hand signals for “Wait here” and “Follow me,” although it is true that a good deal of military activity can be said to boil down to one or the other. But then, if the Coal Country was employing three perfectly healthy Gray Ones shifting bales of straw, spreading gravel, pulling up scrub brush, and painting fencing, they must not have been experienced with just how effective they could be as scouts, snipers, and trackers.
They didn’t have a uniform that fit me. The best they could manage was a cap.
Much of the lower level of the White Palace was filled with workshops. There was an electronics shop, a machinist-cum-locksmith, a gunsmith, a cobbler’s area for shoes and boots, and a corner filled with tools for working leather. One of the larger working rooms was devoted just to reclaiming and recycling clothing and material.
While my fur serves to keep me warm and dry, I have found through long years of association with humans that being dressed in a manner similar to them turns our interactions into sentient-to-sentient, rather than those of a man interacting with a dancing bear. Also, I’m less likely to get a bullet fired into me by an overzealous hunter.
I found some cargo netting and fashioned a long tunic undershirt out of it, so my fur would have some airflow around it. I closed it with carabiner clips, one of the handiest things to have on you in the wilderness. It never hurts to have some netting handy, either, when you need to make a bag or shelter.
Next I fixed a knee-length kilt, using a woolen blanket. I found a discarded set of chaps and took one to fashion into a girdle when I had more time to work with it. I rooted through a huge old bureau filled with tiny drawers and found some studs, spring-closed hook-and-eye loops such as you find on a dog leash, and tough thread for the leather. There were many beautiful pieces of furnishings tucked down here showing the craft that went into each drawer pull and beveled edge, still gorgeous despite the battering of heavy use. Upstairs the Maynes family preferred clean, utilitarian lines and the atrocity of enamel paints over wood grain.
Gloves that fit would be out of the question, but an old leather doctor’s bag had some wonderful lined leather that could be used for improvising a fingerless set, and I could put a protective iron band across the knuckles. A little extra heft and protection to a blow never hurt.
I wear hats and helmets only in extremes, preferring to give my ears full play to sweep my surroundings (I’m often asked whether the rotations and angles are deliberate. They aren’t, unless I’m concentrating on listening to a specific noise).
I have found through long experience that truck tires make excellent footwear once properly fitted to a moccasin—another project for idle hours.
• • •
A land shapes (if not makes) its people, Hok-Tkrah* tells us.
The people of the Coal Country lived in a manner as timeless as their hills, at times as secretive as their forests.
