Blood of the Fold

"I will not sanction the palace meddling in creation and the lives of innocent people."

Sister Dulcinia's blue eyes glanced the length of Verna's simple, dark blue dress. "Prelate, men have uncontrollable urges."

"So do I, but with the Creator's help I've so far managed not to strangle anyone,"

Phoebe's laugh was cut short by a scalding glance from Sister Dulcinia. "Prelate, men are different. They can't control themselves. Allowing this simple diversion keeps their minds focused on their lessons. The palace can well afford the recompense. It's a small price to pay in view of the fact that it on occasion results in gaining us a young wizard."

"The charge of the palace is to teach our young men to use their gift in a responsible fashion, with restraint, and knowing full well the consequences of wielding their ability. When we encourage them to act in the exact opposite fashion with regard to other aspects of their lives, it undermines our teachings.

"As to the occasional result of one with the gift being born from these indiscriminate couplings, there is no evidence that it's of benefit. Who is to say that were they to act with more responsibility and control, the results of meaningful couplings in their future wouldn't produce more than a dismal percentage of offspring with the gift. For all we know, their lascivious indiscretion could be diluting their ability to pass on the gift."

"Or developing it to its highest chances, poor though they are."

Verna shrugged, "Perhaps. But I do know that those fishermen out on the river don't spend their entire lives fishing the exact same spot because they once caught a fish there. Since we are netting few fish, I think it's time for us to move on."

Sister Dulcinia clasped her hands in an effort to be patient. "Prelate, the Creator blessed people with their nature, such as it is, and there is no way we can alter it. Men and women are going to go on doing what gives them pleasure."

“Of course they are, but as long as we pay the cost of the results, we encourage more of it. If there are no consequences, then there will be no self-control. How many children have grown up without the benefit of a father because we give pregnant young women gold? Does that gold replace nurturing? How many lives have we altered, to their detriment, with our gold?"

Dulcinia spread her hands is dismay. "Our gold helps them."

"Our gold encourages the women in the city to act irresponsibly, and to bed our young men because it means a life of support without qualifications." Verna swept her free hand around, indicating the city. "We are demeaning these people with our gold. We have rendered them little more than breeding stock."

"But we have used this method for thousands of years to help augment those with the gift we can find. Hardly any with the gift are born anymore."

"I realize that, but we're in the business of teaching people, not breeding them. Our gold reduces them to creatures acting out of want of gold, instead of people having a child out of love,"

Sister Dulcinia was stricken mute for only a moment. "How can we be seen as so heartless as to deny the help of a little of our gold? Lives are more important than gold."

"I've seen the reports; it's hardly a 'little1 amount of gold. But that's beside the point; the point is that we are breeding our Creator's fellow children like livestock, and in so doing, we are breeding contempt for values."

"But we teach our young men values! As the Creator's highest creation, people respond to the teaching of values because they have the intellect to understand its importance."

Verna sighed. "Sister, suppose we preached truthfulness, and at the same time gladly handed out a penny for each lie told. What do you venture would be the result?"

Sister Phoebe covered her mouth as she laughed. "I'd venture we'd soon be penniless."

Sister Dulcinia's blue eyes were ice. "I didn't realize you were so heartless, Prelate, as to let the Creator's newborn children go hungry."

"The Creator gave their mothers breasts so they might suckle their children, not so they could wile gold from the palace."

Sister Dulcinia's face went crimson. "But, men have uncontrollable urges!"

Verna's voice lowered with heat. "The only time a man's urges are truly uncontrollable is when a sorceress casts a glamour. No Sister has cast a glamour spell over any of the women in the city. Need I remind you that were a Sister to do so, she would be lucky to be put out of the palace, if not hanged? As you well know, a glamour is the moral equivalent to rape."

Dulcinia's face had gone white. "I'm not saying — "

Verna glanced to the ceiling in thought. "As I recall, the last time a Sister was caught casting a glamour, was. . what? Fifty years ago?"

Sister Dulcinia's gaze sought refuge but found none. "It was a novice, Prelate, not a Sister."