The dimwits seemed to feel that if they talked about something long enough, the problem would go away.
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"There's something I've been meaning to ask you, Chief Old-Bear," Red-Beard said a bit hesitantly, after Planter had left the lodge.
"I will answer you as best I can, Chief Red-Beard."
"Is it really necessary for a chief to speak so formally?"
"It's part of the pose that goes with the position, Chief Red-Beard," Old-Bear responded in a somewhat more relaxed manner. "Formal speech makes a chief sound as if he knows what he's doing. When you speak formally, the men of your tribe will usually do what you tell them to do. Formal speech will make you sound wiser."
"But it's so tedious to talk like that," Red-Beard complained.
"Tell me about it," Old-Bear replied sardonically. It's tiresome and pompous, and about half the time you'll forget what you're trying to tell them before you finish talking. The important thing's that it makes you sound wise -- even when you're telling then to do something that's foolish." The old chief paused. "If I were you, Red-Beard, I'd sort of keep that to myself. It's one of the secrets of the trade. If you pay close attention to the outlander chieftains, you'll notice that they do things in more or less the same way. If you sound like you know what you're doing, the men of your tribe will believe that you do, even when you don't."
"It's all just a deception, then?" Red-Beard demanded.
"I thought I just said that," Old-Bear replied.
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"What if I made mistakes?"
"Everybody makes mistakes, Chief Red-Beard," the old shaman told him. "That's one of the ways we learn things-- not the best way, perphaps, but it's there if you need it."
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Excerpts from "The Elder Gods", David and Leigh Eddings
