Chapter 9

It seemed as if we had hardly moved at all when I awoke to see Angelique’s beautiful Helen clone face beaming at me. Lindy, behind her, shifted to give each of us a kiss before threatening to leave the bed.

I stopped her. “Wait Lindy.”

“I need to get ready for rehearsal.”

“Of course you do,” I chuckled. Angelique giggled.

“Slave?”

“Sorry Wardeness, but you can be predictable.”

Lindy chuckled. “True. Make it quick, lazybones.”

“I don’t want you to think this was some kind of bribe, even if it sort of was. Mostly because I enjoyed it hopefully as much as you two.”

“What bribe?” Lindy asked.

“Uhm, my wives and I wish permission to have a little vacation. Just the four of us.”

“Good idea,” said Angelique.

“How long?” Lindy asked.

“Sort of like a long weekend, though it will be during the week. Three night in New York. After the current Tale ends.”

“I want to go, too,” Angelique blurted.

“What part of ‘only the four of them’ didn’t you understand, my brilliant slave?” asked Lindy.

“Oh right. Sorry. But it does sound like fun.”

“We won’t even have two whole weeks left,” Lindy argued. “This will make it a week.”

“But you’re ready, Lindy,” Angelique reminded her. “Just tech and costume rehearsal before the opening. If anything, we’re getting too rehearsed. It would be like taking a test, where you need to stop studying to settle the mind, let it rest. Everything’s there. Everyone’s ready.”

“You sound like you still want to go.”

“I think we should all go. Just let them have their time together except when they want to join us. I think you do too.”

“It does sound like fun. And being together ... I can’t imagine Simon no longer threatens us. We should talk to Nick.”

That day, Helena and Lindy and I met with him about it.

“We should be done tomorrow,” Nick said. “Talk to Tilda,” he referred to one of his two secretaries, the daughter.

Helena smiled. “You should go, Joe.”

“Just me?” I returned, having an inkling of what she intended.

“Of course just you. I’m sure she’d enjoy you sitting with her at her computer as you figure out where we can all stay. It’ll make her day.”

I sighed. My first wife and I communicated silently. “Was she interested in me?” “Of course.” “Why of course?” “Joe!”

To tell the truth, I knew the young, cute redhead wanted me. Our eyes met often, even if hers quickly shied away. Hers were a lovely green. I never completely understood my wife, my soulmate, accepting the abundance of women who wanted me and who got what they wanted. Even more confusing, Helena almost seemed to get off on it, as if my weird attractiveness improved my status as her mate, that I chose her above all others. Choosing her above others was easy for me. She was the most gorgeous and sexiest woman alive. Not to mention I felt closer to her than any other, even my other three gorgeous and sexy wives.

Late afternoon, I walked into Tilda’s office. She greeted me with the expected shy smile, but when I told her my purpose, that vanished. “Bring the chair around,” she said. So I rolled the guest chair around her large desk and placed it beside her fancy desk chair.

She brought up a map of Manhattan dotted with hotels on her large monitor. “Central Park, hunh?” she said, and zeroed in on it.

“Central Park South. We were thinking of the Plaza.” I was impressed by the detail of the map. Usually just dots appeared when I did such exploring, with placing the cursor on it bringing up what the dot represented. Hers had the name and address of every luxury hotel. It created somewhat of a jumble, but less so than mine would on my laptop, because of the huge monitor. Double clicking on the Plaza, and information appeared about it. And not the detailed amenities, or even check-in and check-out times that normally clutter the screen. But a thumbnail block of the actual rooms available, with an image of them, the size and the number and size of the beds in each little square. Cost and view superimposed over the images. Along the side, a list of filters allowed us to view just the suites, and floor listings narrowed it further, and views even more.

“I don’t care about the view,” I commented.

“It will let us know how close each room will be to the others.”

“Of course.”

“How many suites?”

“Four ideally.”

“And not ideally?”

“We should shoot for four.”

“That’s going to be a problem.”

“It doesn’t have to be the Plaza.”

“I’ve heard the other fancy hotels around there are just as nice.”

“Me too. Hey, there’s one near Lincoln Center. I’ve always loved that space.”

“No,” said Tilda.

“Why not?”

“That’s the Trump.”

“Not that I want to fill the asshole’s overstuffed pockets any more, but so what?”

“Simon.”

I laughed. “Figures.”

It took time, but we settled on the Sherry Netherland. It reminded me of my pregnant lover in Amsterdam. Taking time didn’t bother Tilda in the slightest. Me either.

“Hungry?” I asked Tilda.

“Starved.”

“Come on. I’m paying.”

“A date?”

“If you like. But it’s just the deli around the corner.”

“But you’ll sit with me?”

“I said I’m paying.”

“But...”

“Just us two. I promise.”

“I didn’t mean...”

“I enjoy your company, Tilda.”

“Me too,” she grinned.

She blushed passing through the deli, especially when we walked by my wives’ table and Helena winked. We ended up at a small table as close to the edge as possible. The one at the edge, next to us, Nick and the ex-ambassador sat.

“So?” asked Nick.

“The Sherry Netherland,” said Tilda.

“Good choice.”

“The travel program is amazing,” I said to him. “It seemed to focus on the information we would need.”

“Thanks,” said Tilda.

“You created it?” I said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I trusted her to contact hotels we would be interested in and get the information directly about availability and such,” Nick explained. “And get us direct access to booking them. Brilliant, isn’t she?”

“She is,” I smiled.

She blushed. Her shyness returned momentarily, but easy conversation quashed it.

“Have you been to any of Nick’s Tales?” I asked her towards the end of our dinner date. Nick had left by then.

“No,” she blushed again.

“So you’ve heard about its sexiness.”

“Yes.”

“I would think that might be a lure.”

“Mother...”

“What about her?”

“I...”

“Tilda. What’s going on? You’re an adult. You’re not your mother’s baby anymore.”

“I’m ... not exactly an adult. I mean, not officially I guess.”

“How old are you?”

“Eighteen. Just turned.”

“So you’re in high school?”

“I would be if I went.”

“Homeschooled?”

“Yes. I already got my GED. I did well on the SATs.”

“Of course you did.”

“So I hope to go to college next year. Smith or Wesleyan or Vassar.”

“Former all-girl colleges,” I realized.

“Yes. And Mother wishes they weren’t former. But there’s an old girls network still working in them.”

“She’s a radical lesbian.”

“To say the least.”

“And you’re not.”

“Not in the least.”

“And you’re a virgin?”

“Yes,” she practically seethed, not the least bit shy about admitting it.

“You never tried to sneak out, meet a boy?”

“No. I really do love and respect my mother. I think I may be the least rebellious teen.”

“Except you’re feeling rebellious now.”

“I am. It’s unfair. She plays and I can’t.”

“With who?”

“The Irish angels.”

“That’s almost incestuous,” I laughed.

She laughed, too, which was a sweet sound. “Yeah, they definitely look related. Maybe it’s a sign of narcissism. She’s making love to herself.”

“Twice over.”

“She flaunted it. She wanted me interested. I think the twins did too. They don’t mind sharing the bed, but prefer having their own partners.”

“Maybe, but I’ve often seen them sharing a lover.”

“So an act then, guilting me into taking one. This is getting old.”

“I can tell.”

Her shyness returned. “Mother permitted me to be with you.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“I know. It’s kind of a ridiculous statement. Not to mention how weird for her to say.”

“Because, and please don’t take this as some egotistical statement, she’s attracted to me as well. My guess is, her interest in men ended in Nick before I happened along.”

“So ... she wishes she were on this date instead of me.”

“I think she thinks it’s your turn.”

She pondered that a moment. Her eyes went wide. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was.”

“She wants me to use you like she used Nick.”

“I’m like Nick that way.”

“You’re a serial baby maker.”

“So it appears. I don’t know if you know the details of my wives.”

“I know three are angels for three different male eternals.”

“Did you know they’re pregnant?”

“All of them?”

“Even my mortal wife.”

“But ... isn’t that impossible? The angels are famous for fucking geniuses, unprotected, without consequences of STDs or pregnancy.”

“They’re vulnerable after their menarche. Probably before as well. Their eggs tend to lay in wait for a great deal longer than a mortal woman’s. But, just as the egg is especially resilient, the sperm cell that can penetrate it has to especially strong.”

“An eternal’s sperm.”

“And mine as it turns out.”

“Are you an eternal?”

“That’s uncertain. I’m not, but could become one. It’s actually a good thing I’m not, because when Nick impregnated one of his angels...”

“So it has happened before.”

“Yes. But she ended up becoming mortal and the baby was stillborn. We’re hoping neither of those things happen, of course. My wives seem to have retained their immortality so far. You’re getting horny, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Or I should say hornier.”

“It’s the pregnancy thing.”

“It’s like my womb is screaming for your sperm.”

I chuckled. “An apt analogy.”

“So?”

“I just wish I could woo you. You’re a virgin.”

“You’re married, Joe. Four times. Wooing a teenager doesn’t quite sound kosher. Please Joe.”

“Fuck.”

“Please. Unless...”

“You’re beautiful and cute and sexy, Tilda. That’s not an issue.”

“Then...”

I tossed enough cash on the table to pay for food and tip, and we rushed out of the deli. She didn’t know where I stayed, or she probably would have led me.

Once in the apartment, she rushed to the bedroom and sprawled on the bed, quickly undoing her pants. I removed her shoes and took over the undoing, pulling her pants and panties off. Not just her thick pubic hair looked red. Her small pussy, the lips opened and thick, looked pinkish red. I had to taste it.

“Yum,” I murmured, going for a second lap.

“Gods,” Tilda moaned. “Cock,” she muttered.

I released it for her, pulling jeans and underwear just low enough to expose it.

“Too big,” she insisted.

“It’ll fit,” I promised.

Any fear disappeared. She captured it as soon as she could and pulled the glans where she wanted it. I pushed into incredible tightness. She lifted up and sent me deep.

“Wait,” I said when it happened. Too late of course.

“Fuck,” she yelled.

If it wasn’t for her incredible abundance of lubrication, I imagined I would have damaged her cunt, it was that tight. But I opened uncharted space and ended up all the way in. No hymen. I commented on it.

“I’ve been a horny teen since forever,” she barely managed to say. “I stole my mother’s vibrator years ago.”

“Good,” I said, beginning the most primal movement of impregnation for its specific purpose. Thankfully she didn’t mind my going slow, because her tightness threatened my usual ability to hold back from cumming. We both seemed to enjoy savoring it. I managed to remove her blouse and bra, revealing two pale, freckled breasts, small but perfectly shaped and youthful in their retaining their shape. Her small pink nipples stood proud within small, crinkly, lighter pink areolas. I had to taste them, and my tasting brought her even more pleasure if that was possible.

She pulled on my shirt, so I stopped to unbutton it and remove it and the undershirt beneath it.

“Kiss me,” she insisted within a moan.

Our first kiss felt heavenly. Even without experience, she sought learning, echoing my efforts. When our tongues met, she trembled, pulling back to release a loud, quavering moan. Her pussy pulsed around my cock, directional, as if pulling toothpaste from a tube. I barely resisted. She wanted it, but I wanted her to experience ecstasy as much as possible this first time.

Waiting for the pulses to subside, I kissed her tenderly. She made the kisses more intense while shifting her pelvis upwards. I got the hint, and recommenced my thrusts, quickening them.

“Yes,” she approved. “Fuck me hard.”

Her gasps and moans, and the occasional shivering and tightening, made me decide to keep her mouth free. I returned mine to her breasts, my fingers working the other one. Unlike her first orgasm, I fucked through the others. They seemed to become more intense. Maybe too intense. “Cum for me Joe,” she moaned.

I fucked her hard and fast and relentless. She stiffened throughout my assault. I sensed it wasn’t one of her orgasms, but a build to an earthshaking climax. I felt a build as well to an equally powerfully result.

“Aah eee,” she screeched as I pushed deep and came. Clutching her tight, we undulated together. Somehow our lips found each other’s and sealed. Eyes closed, I sought connection. I created a feedback loop of utter pleasure. It ended when she passed out. I did too.

“Wow,” I heard beside me. I discovered my wives surrounding me on the bed. Their flushed faces, not to mention the thick smell of pussy in the room told of their witnessing my newest lover’s deflowering.

I found the source of the exclamation. My adorable Chinese wife sniffled. “That was beautiful,” she added.

“You were here?” I asked her. She nodded. “Did I bring you in?” She nodded. “I didn’t even notice.”

“We could tell,” she grinned.

“Oh,” said my newest lover.

“It’s all good,” I smiled and kissed her. She relaxed into the kiss, making it wonderful and remarkably loving. I felt myself harden. She felt it, too, and pushed against me.

“Ssh,” I sounded, breaking the kiss. “You’re tender.”

“Let me soothe your tender little pussy,” Eva offered, the bottle of Nick essence in her hand.

“Uhm, I’d rather have Joe do it,” Tilda admitted.

“Too bad,” said Eva. “Such a pretty pussy. I love the red fringe.”

“So, not like your mother,” said Helena, kissing Tilda’s sweaty forehead.

“Not in the least.”

“Too bad,” said Shira, the most lesbian inclined of my wives.

Tilda glanced from wife to wife and sniffled. “I can’t have him because of it.”

Helena chuckled gently. “No one can have him, Tilda. Not even me, and I’m his soulmate.”

“You do have me,” I argued. “You all have me. Even you, my sweet little redhead.” I kissed her again with greater tenderness.

When it ended, her eyes went wide. “You love me!”

“He loves every woman he ... loves,” Zhenzhen explained, giggling at the clumsiness of her sentence. “You know what I mean.”

“I guess I do,” Tilda responded. “But...”

“I hope you take this as it’s meant,” said Shira carefully. “Just being honest. All of my sister wives sense a surprisingly deep connection between our husband and you.”

“I’m...”

“No, cutie. No need to apologize. It’s never about jealousy. How could it be? It’s just that you’re surprisingly unique. Surprising in its normalcy, actually. I mean, I suppose, women probably have a greater or more common ability to enjoy other women than men enjoy men. Probably because of the rather dramatic presence of the cock making it a much more intense choice. Even so, it can be easily said that heterosexuality for both sexes is by far the norm. But for Joe’s several lovers, it’s not. At least those who continue being his lover. I don’t know why. Maybe him being in touch with his feminine side, even if he’s as straight as you are.”

“He seems all man to me,” said Tilda, lifting her pelvis and giving my dwindling penis a little squeeze.

“Compared to who?” Shira asked.

“True,” Tilda admitted.

“Men are called dickheads for a reason.”

“So you...”

“I’m a lesbian with a fetish for Joe’s cock. My sister wives, being angels are by nature bisexual. Lindy never really realized her interest in pussy until she found herself crushing on Betty. Now she and Angelique are soulmates. Who knows what goes on inside Tash’s mysterious brain, but she’s Naomi’s genius. Then there’s Seraphine with Michiko. And...”

“What about the other Helen clones?” Eva reminded her.

“True. I guess you’re not so abnormal.”

“But how often do they get to be with Joe?” Helena pointed out.

“Not nearly enough,” Shira agrees. “Especially the blonde and the redhead. Consuela, the slut, manages fine without him.”

“She’s got her hooks in Stan,” said Zhenzhen. “She’s been surprisingly monogamous, even if she allows him to be shared with her fellow clones and Helen.”

“Who can blame her?” said Tilda. “He’s hot.”

Everyone laughed. “Spoken like a true heterosexual,” said Shira. “Considering the pulchritude surrounding you. Which is the point I’m trying to make. I have a feeling Joe wouldn’t object to you joining this harem of his.”

“It’s not a harem!” I insisted.

My wives laughed. “Of course not,” Helena smirked.

“The point is... ,” Shira continued before being interrupted.

“I don’t have what it takes to become a wife. You would want me, Joe?”

“Yes,” I responded, rolling over so that she rested on me. My penis slipped out, hardly noticed. “I felt the bond just getting to know you. Our lovemaking confirmed it.”

“I could pretend.” She tightened when Eva pushed fingers into her pussy, spreading the balm of Nick’s essence. “Maybe not.”

“You want me to stop?” Eva asked. “It’s not sexual. Well, not exactly. You do have a cute pussy.”

“It feels good.”

“Good.”

“But not good that way, unfortunately.”

“There’s an advantage,” said Zhenzhen.

“What’s that?”

“You can have that hunk if you want him. Or any other man you might meet.”

“I haven’t had a chance to explore sex.”

“Exactly.”

“Does that mean... ?”

“Yes,” said Eva, probably the most likely of my wives to stray. “Only Joe’s cock gets entrance to any of our cunts. Other entrances are available, but none of us are all that interested, to tell you the truth.”

“Wow. That doesn’t seem fair.”

“Tell me about it,” I agreed.

“Joe,” said Helena, “Admit you feel more than a little relief for our excluding all other cocks.”

“I admit it. I’m an asshole.”

“But you’re our asshole,” said Eva, causing everyone to laugh.

“But ... I want this again,” said Tilda. “With you.”

“I do too. And I promise it will happen as much as possible.”

“You can be the girl in this particular port,” Eva offered. “If that doesn’t sound too objectionable. A port we will probably frequent.”

“Your homecoming fuck,” Tilda giggled.

“A great welcome home,” I agreed.

“More?”

“At least once I week,” I promised.

“At least,” said my horny young lover.

We laughed.

“Until you find your soulmate,” I added.

“You think I will?”

“Who’s to say? All I know is, he’ll be a truly lucky man.”

“Thanks,” said Tilda, kissing me, stirring my interest.

“We need to head to the theater,” Helena reminded us.

“Come with us,” I offered Tilda.

“Really?” she practically squeaked.

“Of course. And I’ll sit with you. We’ll be fucking again, I guarantee. Among other things.”

“Like sucking your cock? I always wanted to try sucking a cock.”

“I certainly won’t object,” I chuckled.

“Here,” said Zhenzhen, handing her a nightie. “Wear this.”

“Cool,” Tilda grinned.

I don’t know what I was thinking about Tilda as a potential wife. Perhaps we got along so well I guess. Our sense of humor seemed to jibe. Conversations flowed and ebbed easily. Sex had been both fun and intense. But why jump to such a conclusion? There had been others I felt the same about, if not more in terms of ... well ... everything. All I can think of is that it happened immediately. The comfortable, compatible bond came gradually with Lindy and Angelique and especially Tash. And the mutual choice of husband and wife had been like an epiphany rather than a rush of connectedness I found with Tilda.

When she steered me to sit with Consuela and Stan, whatever clouded judgement of Tilda as my potential mate finished dissipating. I felt no disappointment, only amusement. Releasing her from her mother’s hold, I had let loose a wild, horny creature. And I couldn’t say whether her obvious jump into the fray amused me more than Consuela’s jealous reaction. The slut had obviously found her man. My shrug and smirk only fanned her dismay. She’d get over it, with enthusiasm as it turned out. During the tales, they bonded over cocksucking, me being the lucky receiver of Consuela’s silent demonstration and Tilda’s quick learning. And Consuela’s fondness for the Indian stud hadn’t lessened her fondness for me, and Tilda had brought me to her. And she ended the evening with a spectacular double penetration, my thinner cock in her asshole. Her distracted cunnilingus didn’t ruin any excitement, or orgasm, from Tilda, since witnessing two men fucking her simultaneously thrilled Tilda as much as anything.

Afterwards, after the Tale, Tilda wanted the same thing. “I promised my wives an exclusive night,” I explained. “How about tomorrow?”

Tilda’s disappointment turned into a smile. “Perhaps I should give my poor pussy a rest. Especially after Stan’s enormous cock.”

“We could make a night of it,” Consuela grinned. “Go clubbing. Seduce our men on the dance floor. Get everyone’s juices flowing.”

“I don’t think I need any help with that,” Tilda giggled. “Besides, I’m not drinking age.”

“I know a place,” Consuela replied, with a wink.

“What place?” I thought, with misgivings.

That answer came later, after a couple evenings of Tales.

The first began with Chanda on the stage, with Nick sitting left of her, his lover, the Chinese ex-ambassador sitting on the floor between his legs. Perhaps an ignoble place for the lovely middle aged lady, but she looked happy, and in love, and younger than she ever looked.

“The two whores and I took off for the Siberian fur camp the following morning,” Chanda started, “since the weather favored an immediate exit. Clear, with no threatening weather on the horizon, the temperature might have been frigid, but it would only get worse.”

Four older men greet the three whores upon their arrival at the camp, the new chief of these people’s father at the front. The rest of the camp look on with great interest. A small, short parade ensues, with the head partner and Chanda at the front. Chanda realizes where they would stay.

“Is this some sort of place for trysts?” she asks the head partner. This had been where she had fucked several men.

“In a way,” he chuckles. “We always set up a place for guests, at least in our more permanent camps.”

“And they have visitors at night,” Chanda nods.

“Yes. It tends to make them more agreeable in the morning.”

“And now they won’t even have to wait until night.”

The fur trader laughs. “No they won’t.”

“And payment?”

“I’ll take care of it, but they will be looked upon less favorably if they do not add to your fee.”

“As they should,” Chanda grins. She watches the man’s partners choose a whore, the youngest of them left out for the moment.

“Come with me, Chanda,” the man requests. “I’d like to talk to you privately.”

“Among other things,” Chanda adds. She watches his face blush, surprisingly.

“Yes. Of course.”

He leads her to the nicest of the makeshift huts. “Why so shy?” she asks him when they arrive. “You’ve already sampled my wares.”

“What do you mean?” he asks unsteadily, a first from this proud man.

“I saw the blush.”

“I have had little interest in women until you arrived,” he confesses.

“Since when did you lose interest?”

“Since I lost my wife.”

“How long?”

“Almost fifteen summers. I lost her and what would have been my daughter. My son had been difficult for her, but I think he fought his way out as quickly as possible before she became too weak.”

“He is strong and decisive, obviously since birth.”

“Yes.”

“So it must have surprised you when he got misled by your partner’s son.”

“Not really. I consider it a battle of wills which my son lost for a moment, until it was that young man who truly lost. And that woke up my son, I think. It made him understand consequences for stupid deeds.”

“What made him make the mistake of following the foolish young man?”

“I think he wanted to fit in. And I think the potential thrill of being spontaneous. Neither thing was particularly in character. While a leader can be chummy and likeable, he also has to make choices at odds with being liked. Wisdom and decisiveness needs to win out. And for a young man to have these characteristics, and not be in a place of leadership, he can seem bossy and unfriendly and lose those friendships which young men crave. And a young man seeks adventure, often at the risk of his own life. What could be more thrilling? What could be less wise?”

“So, in going along with his friend, and not being the voice of reason, he can be seen as one of the boys.”

“Exactly. Unfortunately this boy who became the leader of boys liked playing dangerous and rebellious games. More than once, it brought scolding to him and the rest of his young rebels.”

“Including your son.”

“Of course. And I believe he took it harder than the others. He didn’t want to disappoint me. It actually made me uncomfortable how much he took it to heart, and perhaps I made my biggest mistake, lessening the scolding by empathizing with the rebelliousness. Boys will be boys and all that. Making it a joke. I don’t know if a harsher punishment would have stopped him from running off in the middle of winter to pursue...”

“Rape.”

“Yes,” he hung his head.

“Maybe it would have, but probably not. All I can say for sure is that it was a terrible choice that could only have turned out badly. Despite the losses of young men you knew and probably liked, for your son, Nick and I stopping them probably was the better result. If he had succeeded in raping my friends, or had witnessed his charismatic friend raping them, because I’m not certain he would have joined in, I doubt he would have allowed himself to become the Great Chief. And he probably would not have been able to accept his new mate.”

“You don’t think he would have gone through with the rape. Young men do stupid, thoughtless things.”

“I can tell you could tell me stories. But like you said, your son is different. He’s a natural leader, even if, because of the nature of being young and male and inescapably foolish, he followed instead of led at a most inappropriate time. I agree with you it had everything to do with trying to maintain kinship amongst his young friends. But I saw, like you saw, his immense regret. He took responsibility for his actions. He suffered from it. He relived it, over and over, imagining the rape as well as their defeat. He told me he isn’t certain if he would stop himself from joining in. He knew he would not have stopped his friends, which actually tortures him more, because of the pain it would have caused my friends. Not him joining in, but him not stopping it from happening. His mate forgave him. He never asked for my forgiveness, feeling like he didn’t deserve it. But I have witnessed his nature with women, with me and especially with his lover, and I’m convinced he would never have participated. I don’t think he is capable of it. And witnessing it, instead of just imagining it, would have torn him apart. No forgiveness would ever heal him. So, despite the sacrifice of friends, Nick and I essentially saved him from himself, and allowed him to be leader, his destiny.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. You think he will make a great leader?”

“Yes. I’m certain of it. Unlike you, he willingly takes that great burden. Unlike your brother, it chose him instead of him choosing it and using it for his own selfish agenda. Power doesn’t interest him except to be used for the good of your people. I believe he will always choose the welfare of them over his own. And he will consider the advice he gets, both spiritual and secular, and change his opinion if it makes sense to him. He is a precociously wise young man, and that no longer has to be a problem.”