I'm sticking my neck out and posting what I hope will be a short story, under 50 pages, in installments as I go along.  I've been struggling to write something of the sort about my characters -- something epiphanic.  Mostly my people develop slowly, almost glacially, and it's hard to write a fairly pithy narrative about a single event in their lives. But I think this bit of Timu's backstory is suitable.  It certainly is rushing out at the moment.

            “Lord Maarinen . . .”

            The little grey finch-wife poked her head out of the pocket of woven twigs and grasses that formed her nest in the budding branches of the lilac bush, as her white-breasted husband fluttered down to perch on its edge, offering her a cricket. They looked for all the world as though they were kissing.

            “Lord Maarinen!”

            Timu grudgingly turned his eyes and mind away from the classroom window and to the white-faced magus who stood before him.  “Sir?”  There was sniggering and shuffling in the room around him, which the magus stifled with a baleful glance up and down the rows of seats. He turned back to the front of the room, pacing slowly.

            “Perhaps Lord Maarinen would like to inform us of the significance of the Paarin-Khan Accord to Xanthian relations?”

            Timu sat up a little straighter in his chair and scratched his ear lobe. “I would like to, Magus – if I knew the first thing about it.”

            The magus turned again as once more the sniggering began, breaking out in places into giggles, and he repeated his practiced glare until the class was silenced, finally turning the full force of his displeasure on Timu.  “See me after class, my lord,” he said icily.  “Lady Aulia, if you would enlighten young Maarinen, and the rest of us?”

            Timu shook his head and slumped again in his seat as Aulia Taarko’s soft voice began an explication of the supposed significance of the musty old treaty.  Why did he not just call on Aulia in the first place?  All they wanted to do was torture him.  History and politics were no use to him; he would never be a diplomat.  He was going to be a scholar, like Elian and Arn, but a student of the ways of Vaaseli’s wild beasts and the land they lived in.  Why did Mother and Father have to send him to the blasted service school anyway?  He could have had a tutor at home – he could manage to pick up what he needed of mind-work from Magus Tuomus.  Wasting his time, putting everyone out of temper – that was all that school was good for.

            Timu felt something small and wet strike his cheek sharply and looked in the direction it had come from. That oaf, Loumi – why not call on him and see how much he knew? – the idiot – spitballs in the fifth year of the second form – how did they expect to make a diplomat of that? Timu’s gaze drifted once again to the view outside the window.

            One day soon he would find the way to truly join his mind to a mind in another species – he just knew it.  Birds might not be the best to begin with, though.  Maybe this afternoon he could get away and into the forest . . .

            The bells in the tower above the exercise yard rang out, signaling the end of at least this hour of Timu’s personal torture.  Except for the conference with Magus Soren.

            The magus stood at his table, stacking his books and papers while the students filed out, some into the exercise yard, some into corridor.  Timu stayed in his seat until his teacher summoned him, and when he stood he made up his mind to behave himself perfectly – by his own lights at least.

            What Magus Soren perceived, however, was conceit and defiance.  It was what he expected to see, in any case.  Lord Maarinen had the innocent face of a boy, but the physique of a man, and his willfulness was more a man’s than a boy’s too.  His parents had let him run wild in the country too long before sending him to Essin; that was the trouble.

            “Lord Maarinen,” he began in patient tones, “I am sure you would rather not have another bad report sent home to your father.  Lord Arvi has great hopes for you – it is not becoming for a loving son to disappoint his family.”

            “I have no wish to disappoint anyone, magus.  I only fear I am not well suited to the career they plan for me.”

            “You have great talent, which could surely benefit your country.”

            Timu shrugged his shoulders. Why could he not be left to use his telepathic ability for his own purposes, as he saw fit?  Why must everything always be for the good of Vaaseli?

            “Sir, I do manage to pass my examinations –”

            “Heaven knows how –”

            Timu looked down briefly, shielding his mind a little.  It was true that he sometimes scanned the minds of other students, when he found himself in a tight place, but the magus did not need to know that. “I will try to be more attentive in class, magus,” he promised, with what he hoped would pass for sincerity.

            The magus harrumphed and gathered up his belongings.  “See that you succeed,” he said brusquely, and fixed Timu with his glare one last time before leaving the room.

            Timu sighed heavily and went to his seat to collect his satchel.  The father finch had flown away when the students poured out into the exercise yard, and the mother was huddled out of sight, protecting her future family.  Timu made up his mind in that instant.  He would spend the afternoon in the forest.  They could send all the reports they liked. Maybe then his parents would understand, and free him from this absurd indignity.

            When the bells rang out again to signal the start of the next classes, Timu hurried into the school building along with the rest of the students, but slipped into the corridor that led to the kitchens.  Cook would be glad to let him have a loaf of bread and a flask of water, and then he could slip out through the servants’ quarters and into the hills.  There was that rabbit’s nest, with its clutch of new babies he wanted to check on.  He could spend the afternoon concealed and contented, and maybe work on the poem that had begun to come to him the last time he was in the forest.  The first lines were firmly fixed in his memory, waiting for the rest to follow.

            With his bread and water in his satchel, and what seemed like the weight of the whole school shed from his shoulders, Timu strode briskly and happily up the meadow toward the forest.  It was madness to huddle within stone walls on such a glorious spring day. Why did they wish to make him as mad as they were?  He would suffer his last year in the service school for his family’s sake, if that was truly what they expected of him, and even take a post in the service for awhile, but he would not sacrifice his own interests and dreams for the petty games of politics.  He would be the first scholar to apply the science of the mind to the whole of the Creator’s works – perhaps he would even find the germ of mind in plants, as well as animals.  If his sister and his brother could find something worth studying in the primitive Telmi, his own intuition about what people called the lower orders of life might be an equally rich field of endeavor.

            With such happy thoughts filling his mind, the hike uphill into the woods above Essin castle seemed quick and easy.  The rabbit set he had discovered was only a little way into the forest, where the meadows still broke into the trees in large swatches, already beginning to fill with their patterned carpet of brilliant flowers.  As he approached the trees Timu began to walk more slowly, and more softly, and he took a wide turn around the old oak whose roots protected the hole where the mother rabbit had made her nest for her little family.  It was a good tree to climb, and he quickly and quietly scrambled up the wide trunk on the opposite side from the rabbit’s nest, and shimmied out along one of its great branches, to a place where he could see the front door of the rabbit’s home.  She herself was there, on the front stoop, as it were, her little white tail twitching every now and then, and her ears swiveling to catch every sound as she nibbled at the grasses that grew just beyond the shade of the old tree’s branches.

            Timu sighed softly, lying at full length on his stomach on the comfortable old branch. Rabbits and deer had no politics.  Why did people need to trouble each other so?  Everyone needed and wanted the same things – food and shelter, companionship sometimes, opportunities for pleasure.  Why must it be so hard to cooperate so that everyone could have them?  Of course the rabbit might be eaten by a fox, and the fox taken by an eagle – but they never sought vengeance.  It was just as the Creator had made them. Men did not seem to know exactly what the Creator had made them for, that was the trouble.  And once they began arguing about it among themselves, there was no end to the trouble.

            There was no sign as yet of the babies emerging.  Timu knew they were there.  Last week he had even been able to hear some faint mewling coming from the hole, as the mother finished her feeding and the babies cried out for theirs. He was looking forward to seeing them, but it might be some days yet. 

            Timu felt his mind too lulled by the warm spring weather to put it to the trouble of seeking a way into the rabbit’s alien consciousness.  He’d never quite succeeded in the project, though sometimes, especially with animals at home on the estate – one or two of the dogs, his favorite horses – he was sure there was some contact. But today he was disinclined to make any sort of effort.

            Timu's thoughts gradually became clear and clean, but his mind was still sharply aware, and so he heard the rustling of the meadow grass down the slope of the hillside before he heard the jingle of horses’ tack and the sounds of human voices.  It was already too late to climb down the tree and retreat deeper into the forest, however, so he waited, hoping that the people coming his way would go on, or turn aside, and leave him and the rabbit family in peace.

            It was not to be however.  Here they came, on foot, a man and a woman – a gentleman and a lady, rather.  Timu kept as still as he could, still hoping they would not stop.  The woman was leading and the man following – almost pursuing, except that she was not really trying to elude him.  The rabbit had long since scampered into the underbrush nearest the spot where she had been grazing by the time the man seized the woman in his arms, and pulled her to the ground, both of them now laughing.

            Timu couldn’t think why he continued to watch.  He wasn’t really thinking – his mind had slipped immediately into the mode of the observer.  It was a little different from the coupling of animals, though not much.  Of course the basic position was different, and the male seemed to want to take advantage of that to initiate mutual oral stimulation, which the female, for some reason, resisted, laughing. And it went on a little longer than relations between a buck and a doe, for example.  But, Timu reflected, it really was all the same business.  Why two people should wish to come into the forest to do it, when a bedchamber was obviously more suited to their requirements, was a little puzzling. He hoped they wouldn’t linger once they were finished.  That mother rabbit needed to get back to her babies. He shut his eyes resignedly, and waited.

            When he had heard the couple’s inarticulate voices finally subside into silence he looked again. Now the lady was sitting up and settling her skirt back around her legs, pulling up her stockings, and attempting to tidy her hair.  With the simpler readjustment of his clothing completed, the man still tried to grasp and grope at the lady’s breasts, but she slapped his hands and spoke crossly.

            Suddenly she was still, and shushed the gentleman emphatically.

            “What was that?” she said breathlessly, and then Timu heard what she had heard: the rustling in the hole beneath the tree roots and the very tiny mewling sounds of hungry babies.

            The lady immediately turned and crouched on her hands and knees, her face aglow with curiosity.  Timu could see the trembling flesh of her rather over-exposed bosom, and saw her reach her hand to the gap in the tree roots, and he knew he must stop her.

            “No!” He swung around on the branch, scraping his legs and tearing his leggings, and hung briefly from the rough bark by his fingertips before dropping to land on hands and knees directly on top of the lady.  She screamed as she collapsed beneath his weight on the mossy ground at the foot of the tree.

            “What the devil --?” The gentleman grabbed Timu roughly by the arm and pulled him to his feet, but Timu pushed him away with equal roughness and put his hand on the hilt of the knife in his belt. He looked down at the lady, who was struggling to her feet, but he didn’t offer a hand to assist her.  She reached out to her companion, who grasped her arm and helped her to stand.

            “You must not touch them,” Timu said urgently.  “You should go.”

            “Touch what?” the lady asked.  “What is it?” She kept glancing between the hole beneath the tree and Timu’s flushed face.

            “Baby rabbits – if you touch them their mother will kill them when she returns, for the smell of a human that will be on them.”

            The lady took a step toward Timu, though her companion still held her arm. “Do I smell that bad?”

            Timu sniffed involuntarily.  She smelled of expensive scent, and – he wrinkled his nose a little – something else – the smell of what she and the man had been doing, most likely.

            “You do – to a rabbit.”

            “Insolent pup,” the man snarled, pulling the lady back by the arm protectively, but she laughed.

            “Where is the mother then?” she asked,

            “You frightened her away.  She will come back when you are gone – please.”

            “What about you?”

            “I will go – when I know you have gone.”

            “We should go, Rilsa – we should not have come here.” The man turned to Timu, glowering. “What the devil were you doing up that tree – what did you see?”

            The lady put her hand on the gentleman’s arm.  “Darling, I am sure the poor boy saw nothing – am I right?” She turned to Timu and gave him a very warm smile, and reached out to his hand, giving his fingers a very tight squeeze.  Suddenly Timu was completely ashamed of having watched them, and he hung his head to hide his blushes, and muttered like a schoolboy, “I saw nothing, ma’am.”

            “There,” she exclaimed.  “All is well.  We will go, and I shall not disturb your rabbits.” And she pulled on her companion’s arm so that he had to follow, though he looked back at Timu with an extremely threatening expression.

            Lady Rilsa and Sir Brant retrieved their horses from the meadow where they had left them to graze, and mounted to return to Essin castle.  Brant was still fuming over their encounter with the boy in the forest, and Rilsa found herself becoming quite annoyed with him.

            “What if some stable-boy saw us?  He will not dare to say anything – he should have been about his duties, instead of idling in the forest.”

            “Stable-boy? That was no stable-boy, Rilsa.  That was Lord Timu Maarinen – the last of the litter.”

            Rilsa looked puzzled, then thoughtful. “Lord Maarinen?  Indeed.”

            “You do not know the Maarinen, do you?” Brant went on bitterly.

            “I know they have a rather large estate on the eastern marches – grain and livestock, forests, and so on.”

            “They are one of the most important families in the service.  Though in this generation they have turned to what they call scholarship.  Arn and Elian graduated from the service school, but disdained to become diplomats.  They have chosen instead to live among the savages in the north, and pretend that study of their way of life has some value.”

            “Is this boy in the service school, then?”

            “Yes, he is, though why exactly is a question many would like answered.”  Brant saw that Rilsa wanted him to continue, and he was in a mood to vent his feelings.  “My brother knows him.  He says Timu Maarinen is the laziest and most insolent fellow he has ever met, but the mages favor him, because of his parents.  And because they think he has extraordinary telepathic ability.  That is how he has managed to keep from being sent home – his quickness at mastering any sort of mind-work.”  Brant gave a twitch to the reins in his hands, making his horse throw up its head and dance a little to one side as they went at an easy pace down the meadow. “And more serious students labor away with no sign of favor.”  Like your little brother of course, thought Lady Rilsa.

            “I believe he will keep silent, though,” she said.  “He was embarrassed, poor thing.”  She sighed.  “What an innocent face he has.  And I think he was ready to stick that knife in you in defense of those poor rabbits!”

            Brant made a rude noise of derision, but Rilsa was laughing, and when she laughed he found he couldn’t help but join her.  “I do not believe he knows who we are in any case,” he admitted at last. “You are right,” he reached out to grasp Rilsa’s hand.  “There is no danger that any of this will get back to your husband.”

            When the intruders had gone, Timu climbed once more into the tree.  He would not leave until he was certain the mother rabbit had returned to her brood, and was at ease with them.  He also wanted time to compose himself, and recover from this strange encounter.

            Of course he had heard of couples indulging in this sort of thing in the meadows and the forests – there were some girls at school who were whispered about – but he’d never actually seen it.  And this was no school girl, but a fine lady of the court, that was obvious.  Who was she, anyway?  The man seemed vaguely familiar, but he had never seen the lady.  Of course he didn’t pay much attention to goings on in court.  He paid little enough attention to goings on in school, or in the service.  In the service.  That was where he had seen the man, of course.  He was a clerk in some department or another.  But this lady was just a lady, an idle noblewoman, clearly, with absolutely no telepathic ability.  When she had looked at him and smiled, he had been completely aware of her thoughts, and the kind of mind they inhabited, and it was shallow and simple. 

            And her thoughts.  Why would she think such things of him? – of a boy?

            She shouldn’t.

            The man had called her Rilsa.  Rilsa.

            “Do you see her, Eiro?”  Lord Farin shaded his eyes from the sun with one gloved hand and peered up at the dome of the sky, searching for sight of his new falcon.  He had taken her as a passager the previous autumn, and tamed and trained her through the winter, till she was well used to the lure, would come at a call, and finally would stoop to a pigeon released for her.  Today, with the warming of spring, he had ridden out with his groom and a few stable boys to flush the game, to try her for the first time on real quarry.

            “Yes sir, but barely – just coming out of the sun – waiting on nicely, sir – she has a fine high pitch, my lord.”

            Farin suppressed a growl of frustration and returned his gaze to the boys on the ground, who waded through last autumn’s dry grasses to startle whatever creature might be sheltering there.  He did not want to admit that his eyes were not what they had once been. “There – they have started a rabbit, ” he cried out with gratification.

            “And she sees it – here she comes!” Eiro cried. The younger man nearly danced with excitement, but Farin stood still and kept his eyes on the course of the rabbit.  It was well in the open, and would find no cover.  He fought the temptation to look for the bird in the air – he might miss her, and miss the clutch when it came – damned be to old eyes. But there it was!

            A puff of dust as the rabbit jerked a few times in her talons, then she was in the air with it again – now – Farin sounded a high-pitched whistle from between his back teeth, and with real satisfaction he saw her bank and cup her wings and begin her short descent, flying directly to him, bless her.  She dropped her prize, to land with her lusty grip on his outstretched, gauntleted arm.  “There, my good girl,” he crooned to her, stroking the back of her head with his finger while Eiro severed one leg of the rabbit for his lord to give to her. She took it in one foot, quite politely, and, standing quite easily on the other leg upon Farin’s forearm, began rending its flesh through the fur with her slightly curved beak.

            Taming a bird like this was rather like courting a worthy woman, Farin reflected.  The days and nights of wakefulness at the beginning were the first throes of love that show a fellow’s devotion and break down the lady’s resistance. Then the careful feeding – give her just enough of what she wants so that she always wants more, and grows to accept it and expect it from your hand – till at last she allows you real intimacy.  For the bird, watching her feed – for the lady – well –

            And then this moment, when she must show willing to truly do his will, even while doing her own.  Of course her own will would never be conquered, and he would never really know when he might lose her – yes, very like a worthy woman.

            When he first perceived the voice in his thoughts it seemed a phantom, brought on by his musings, but the urgency of the rare communication finally broke through his reverie.

            “Wythe? What are you doing?  What is the matter?”

            “How do you know anything is the matter, Farin?”

            “You would not communicate if it were not something urgent, and what could be urgent in your peaceful life except trouble?” Farin absently handed off the still-feeding bird to Eiro, and she flapped her broad wings to keep her balance.

            “You and I know each other so well, Farin.”

            The Toler lord could imagine the smile in his young friend’s eyes, though he also imagined her expression to be grave in every other respect. “So, out with it.  What is it?”

            If it were possible for thoughts to sigh, Wythe’s would have done so. “What do you know of Pieter Sevren?”

            Farin had to think for a moment, stroking his luxuriant black beard reflectively, but gradually the name called up the image of a face and figure, and even more the recollection of a mind and manner, and he laughed. “That huntsman from Essin. Or should I say scholar?”

            “He calls himself a naturalist.”

            “Yes, I remember him.  He came to me a few weeks after Solstice, just when we could begin to tell that daylight was growing.  Hired two men, and bought a team and sledge, and went north. Renhold’s new order is hatching out all sorts of strange fellows.”

            “What has Pieter Sevren to do with Renhold?”

            “Oh, nothing directly, I am sure.  I only meant this new surge in scholarship – nothing like it since Elian first began visiting your people.  So you have met Sevren – and he has given you trouble?”

            “He may give us all trouble soon – and I want your help in forestalling it.”

            “What has he done?”

            “He killed animals for trophies – he calls them ‘exhibits’ – and – he went to places where no southerner is permitted.”

            “I am sure he felt your wrath, then – did the elders pass judgment on him?”

            “I only met him yesterday, and we are not with the clans – I am on an errand – but I did deal with him, as best I could.” Wythe hesitated, and Farin could tell that there were thoughts troubling her that she carefully concealed from him.  “He has seen things he shouldn’t, and I know I can’t trust him not to speak of them in Essin – I have asked him not to, and I have temporarily suppressed his memory, and the memories of his guides, but –”

            “What do you wish me to do? Detain him?”

            “Entertain him for awhile, maybe, and let me know how you find him. Then I will communicate with Renhold, when we know more of Pieter Sevren’s disposition.” Wythe was being extremely careful of her thoughts, and Farin thought he ought to do something to reassure her.

            “I know there are many secrets of your people that never found their way into Elian’s understanding, and certainly not into her writings. I know these things are important to you – and you know that I will always do everything I can to protect you. I will put Sevren under the most careful observation, and communicate with you when he comes here. But what of the men he hired?”

            “Keep them near somehow too.  Are they men of your household?”

            “No, they are trappers from the western side of the pass -- two bachelor brothers.  But I could offer them a very nice position with me, so that I can keep an eye on them.  After their sojourn with Sevren in the wilderness they may be glad of my patronage.”

            “Thank you, Farin.  You know that I will tell you what I can, when I can – but first I must consult the spirits, and the elders and the other shamans – and before I can return to the clans I must complete my errand. I imagine Pieter will hire or buy a cart when he reaches the first settlement of your people, but it should still take him at least a week to reach you. By then I may be back among the clans.”

            “Do not worry about me, Wythe. Consult whom you must, and be assured, I will contact you when I have seen this naturalist.”

            Farin let Wythe be the one to close the link between them. Then he fished his hawk’s hood from the breast of his coat and handed it to Eiro.  “That is enough for her first trial, Eiro. Let us go home.  I must see Shel about some business.” He strode to where two of the boys were tending their horses, while Eiro called the others to them.  Shel would know more of this Pieter Sevren, surely.  Farin could always count on his secretary for the most essential information.

In much of his fiction C. S. Lewis played around with the idea that if God created other worlds with rational beings He might very well handle things a bit differently than he did with Earthlings.

I'm taking the same line with my world of telepaths.

I have no wish to make my own faith an overt element of the story, though elements of it it may sneak into the attitudes of more than one of my characters -- the way things are developing so far, the main tenet of my faith (the Incarnation) wouldn't have a place in this particular world -- that's not the way the Creator (as the "civilized" folks in the story refer to the Divine) is handling things this time.  These humans have an edge over us human Earthlings, because they can communicate and do all sorts of other dandy things with their minds that we can only do clumsily with technology, or by gabbing and writing about stuff for centuries. They do suffer from sin, like us, but the Creator is letting them figure out how to use their particular gifts to sort things out.  Presumably there might come a time in their history when some other intervention is necessary, but at the point of my stories so far, they're pretty much on their own. The different cultures in this world have various priests, shamans, mages, prophets, etc., who by their insight, perseverance, sacrifice, courage, etc (name your virtue) try to keep things on track. The best hope for this world seems to be to take what's best from each tradition and learn from it -- but even those who try to do so have their blind spots.  Thus the Alliance, though founded on a syncretistic religion, looks askance at animists, for example. The fundamental conflict is always between faith and reason -- and the irony is that the conflict isn't really necessary.