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From: kjc@aramis.rutgers.edu (Kelly J. Cooper)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [MG] Questions and Answers
Keywords: in which our heroine has yet another revelation...
Message-ID: <Apr.4.17.32.51.1994.18308@aramis.rutgers.edu>
Date: 4 Apr 94 21:32:51 GMT
Organization: LCSR @ Rutgers University
Lines: 387


[Admin:  This comes before Liralen Li's (and my and HWRNMNBSOL's)
         "Harvest Time"... Huge thanks to the Hutchison's & Li for
         editorial commentary and character adjustments.]


"When you see the Southern Cross for the first time,
 You understand now why you came this way.
 'Cause the truth you might be runnin' from is so small.
 But it's as big as the promise, the promise of a coming day."
			-Crosby, Stills & Nash, "Southern Cross"

                "And my question to you is:
                 How did this come to pass?
                 How did this one life fall so far and fast?"
				-Suzanne Vega, "Blood Sings"

                                 -*-

Jameson stood and stretched very slowly, feeling muscles awakening and
aching from the too-long stillness she had been holding.  She was
standing in the middle of what looked like half a universe worth of
stars.  Stars, all colors and sizes, were everywhere.  At a spoken
command, annotation abruptly appeared, tagging systems with different
exploration symbols.  She reached for a particular star and the whole
system zoomed forward to magnify that section of the map.  Gently
adjusting a moon by half a degree, she then touched the planet she had
been aiming for and it slowly swelled until she could see individual
continents with forests and lakes and mountain ranges.  Reaching out
again, her hand began to shake and she stood still, staring fascinated
as the shudder in her fingers passed to her arm and she suddenly felt
cold.

The door chimed and she clenched her hand to a fist and said, "Enter."

ar'Elya walked in, looking curiously about the room.  "You know, you
are one of the very few people I've ever met who rarely has an
environment setting," she said neutrally, judging neither good nor
bad.

Jameson scrubbed at her eyes and shrugged slightly.  "I guess I don't
think about it.  What can I do for you?"

The 'kan frowned slightly and seemed about to say something, then
suddenly changed gears.  "Dasham's cursebreaking is done.  Everything
went swimmingly, in fact; all the loose ends are nicely tied up.
She's currently getting used to being uncursed before we unleash the
nanogolems on her.  'Raelf thought it might be a good idea if you
could talk with her about them beforehand.  You know how she doesn't
like surprises."  She smiled pleasantly.

Jameson asked softly, "How is he?"  

The smile faded and it was the 'kan's turn to shrug.  "Not good, not
good at all.  I guess you haven't seen them lately?"

"No," Jameson's voice was suddenly rough, "I'm sorry I..." she broke
off for a moment.  "I was tired of people... asking... staring at the
scars.  I needed some time to focus on getting rid of them, and of
course," she gestured around her, "My maps can always use work.
And... I can always use more time to think..." she ended lamely, her
arms loosely at her sides.  "Tell him, if he needs anything... I
can... I'd like to... just tell him..."

"I will, Jameson," ar'Elya interrupted her gently.  She smiled a small
smile and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Jameson sighed a long, shuddering exhalation and with a word made the
stars vanish.

                                 -*-

Her call for an appointment was greeted with surprising mellowness by
the Supreme ArchMage and she was invited over for brunch.  Jameson
stared at the dead vid-phone for a full minute before leaving her
room.  Kev zoomed past her with a tight, almost manic grin on his face
and the sudden sound of his bloodsong made Jameson's head hurt, but it
faded quickly as he vanished around the corner.  The house told her
that Kardia was at the Public Gardens and that almost everyone else in
the house had Do Not Disturb tags all around.

Jameson reflected somewhat sadly that she'd been out of things since
the party, but as soon as she started thinking of people she missed,
her mind unconsciously pulled back and slid over onto more neutral
considerations.  She found herself quite naturally considering
equipment upgrades and local system mapping.

She loped through the garden and away from the Lighthouse, her
thoughts far away and her feet moving on automatic.  In Generica, she
caught some odd looks from the more conservative members of the city.
Unseen eyes parsed and dismissed her.  She was obviously not prey --
therefore, predator and not worth the effort in daylight.  Her stride
was even and strong.  There was no hint of injury or timidity.  Skin
smooth, if slightly pale, and eyes clear, she looked like a normal
human woman.  Oddly dressed, perhaps, in dark brown woven trous,
boots, and a dark green shirt of brushed cotton, but definitely human.
And so very different from the shuffling mass of scar tissue she had
been.

                                 -*-

At the Mage Guild, she had to wait for a scan and appointment
verification before she was allowed past the front desk.  A line on
the floor lit up and as she followed it through the twists and turns
of the hallways she was briefly tempted to be a nuisance, but
successfully restrained herself.  Outside of Dasham's quarters, she
touched her palm to the pad on the wall outside and the door misted
silently into non-solid.

Dasham's quarters where painted a grim shade of manufactured mint
green and distinctly contrasted the beautiful furniture tastefully
arranged about the room.  Dasham herself was seated upon a settee, but
stood when Jameson entered.  The Supreme ArchMage was clad in a silken
robe, and her red hair was pulled back, leaving wisps loose at her
temple and neck.  Inclining her head, she bowed slightly at the waist
and smiled pleasantly at Jameson, who was exercising a great deal of
self-control to school her own features.  The changes since the last
time she saw the woman were much more than cosmetic.  There was a
difference in the way she held herself, the way she moved, and turned
her head and looked up.  It was so distinct, but at the same time, so
general and... natural.  Her sound had changed as well.  The song of
her blood was no longer the clash of civil war.  It sang strongly with
one voice.

Letting herself smile slightly, she took the chair Dasham indicated.
The Supreme ArchMage poured a glass of juice from an ornate crystal
pitcher and set a chocolate pastry on a plate and handed both to her.

"So now, I think perhaps we meet on more equal footing than in the
past," Dasham began.

Jameson was acutely aware of her pores contracting and her pupils
widening slightly at the memories Dasham had just evoked.  With a deep
breath and a tight smile, she took a moment to realize that the words
had not been a challenge.  They were more of a partial apology, an
awkward bridging of the strange distance between them.  Letting out
the breath she suddenly realized she was holding in a slow sigh, she
nodded and cleared her throat.  Feeling suddenly hampered by the food
in her hands she almost took a bite of the pastry, but instead decided
to put it and the juice down on the low table in front of them and
then leaned forward to fold her hands over her knees and rest her
weight on her forearms.

"'Raelf thought it might be good if I talked to you about living with
nanites before you fully committed to the procedure.  So, I'm here to
talk."  Jameson frowned internally.  Whenever she was isolated for too
long her social skills went haywire.

Dasham opened a drawer in the coffeetable and withdrew a small book
with a golden cover that glowed faintly.  She set it on the table and
looked at it oddly.  "My body will now come with an instruction
manual.  I'm not sure how to take that."  Jameson recognized the
adjustable glyphs on the cover as 'kan, but made no comment.  

Sighing, Dasham shrugged elegantly and said, "What is it like?  To
have them?"

Cocking an eyebrow, Jameson asked in return, "What is it like to
breathe?  I was born with mine, I have nothing to compare it to
really, except what I have observed.  Please clarify your question." 

Dasham's face tightened for a moment and the ghost of her old anger
hovered over her face, but promptly vanished into a serious
expression.  "I'm sorry.  I don't know exactly how to go about this.
I've taken some time away from the Guild.  Just a day apart from my
duties, to prepare myself, and I am caught up in my own thoughts.  I'm
not sure how to express what I'd like to know."

Jameson sat back in her chair and slouched slightly.  "And I
apologize.  My ability to be civil has apparently taken its own
vacation."  She paused a few moments before sitting up straighter and
taking a breath like a lecturer preparing to begin, "It's like having
an Army Corps of really talented builders and engineers within you,
doing their jobs, waiting for special assignments.  You have a
schema," she searched briefly for words, "A principal pattern.  The
way you perceive yourself, the way you _are_ that becomes a part of
your genetic code in more than just eye color and skin texture.  It's
the design your little builders will use over and over to constantly
reconstruct you.  To fix things when they are broken or lost.  You can
change your appearance, but you probably won't be able to hold it very
long -- you will need to return to your schema quickly, because your
nanites need to have you based around that pattern.  That is their
job, to maintain that pattern no matter what."

She braced her elbow on the arm of the chair and leaned her cheek on
her palm and looked at Dasham.  "The technical details are in your
manual."  She waved a hand at the book on the tabletop.  "Does that
about cover it?"

Dasham frowned slightly, obviously thinking.  She began slowly, "When
I first... scanned you... I couldn't get a fixed reading on your age.
Nor could I really get a solid analysis of you.  Will this happen to
me?" 

Jameson chewed her lip for a moment before replying, "Maybe.  You
couldn't scan me because you weren't looking at me properly.  There is
no magic involved in my existence.  I am purely genetic engineering
and you were not only probing more for magic, but you were also
upsetting my various protections with your intrusion, so they were
resisting.  Mucking up the scan on purpose, in a way, but 'purpose'
isn't necessarily the right word.  I don't know the right word.  It's
as if my blood were a separate, intelligent organism, but at the same
time so intimately linked to me that there is no line of division.
There is no real independence."  She frowned slightly, "Like I said,
it's really difficult to put into words."  

Sighing and sitting forward, she took the juice and drank it all down,
then set the glass back on the table.  Dasham offered to refill it and
Jameson shook her head and continued, "You can produce more blood, or
less blood, or any other naturally occurring bit of your body.  Flesh,
organs, etc.  You can deliberately choose, almost cell by cell, what
part of you your body should re-digest if you are slowly starving to
death.  Under extreme duress, you might evolve.  The schema could be
adapted.  I was photosynthetic once.  Everything, anything can be
clarified and you will have to be careful and build filters for
yourself.  To keep yourself from consciously thinking about every
detail you absorb, so you don't go a bit mad.  That should happen
relatively naturally, but I don't know for sure.  You'll have to ask
'Raelf or check your book.  I never had to build everything from
scratch, or at least I don't remember doing it."

Dasham looked thoughtful a moment, then asked, "Do you use
visualization for changing things or is a more viceral thing?"

Jameson's brows drew together.  "Visualization, mostly.  Well, no, it
depends.  If something is happening, external to me, my body will
adjust first.  If I choose to make a change, I have to visualize it,
and hold the image in my mind as strongly as possible to override my
schema."  

"How quickly can you change?  I know my rates may be different, but a
rough idea as to the length of time..."  Dasham spread her hands,
leaving the question open, and looked at Jameson.

Jameson spoke slowly at first, then with a little more confidence as
she organized her thoughts, "I'd say, an hour or so to get the
visualization right.  Maybe half a day to do a full change, if you're
staying at approximately the same mass but doing an all-over body
change.  You could do it faster, but it would hurt.  A lot.  If you
need more mass it might take longer to generate it.  Less mass, it'll
take a little while to reabsorb or shed it.  Basic cosmetic changes,
like hair color, skin tones, eye color, sharpened incisors," Dasham
gave her an odd, unreadable look, "thickening or thinning your skin to
change your face or hands can take a few minutes to an hour or so.
The most time spent on a single action is creating the visualization
down to the clearest detail you can, then concentrating on holding it.
You'll be fighting your body, which wants to change back as quickly as
possible."

Dasham asked the next logical question, "And healing?" 

Jameson swallowed and took a deep breath.  "From a surface wound,
several minutes.  Not quite an hour.  From a deep wound, at least an
hour, usually more.  A mortal wound, several hours.  Broken bones
depend upon whether I'm conscious and can straighten it myself --
otherwise, the healing goes much more slowly as the bones are pulled
into alignment.  Hours to knit, days for it to return to reasonable
strength.  Sometimes weeks before the excess bone is reabsorbed and
everything aligned.  It varies somewhat.  Surface bruising is handled
very quickly, deeper bruising takes longer.  Serious wounding is
treated first -- if I break my neck, my spinal column will repair
first and *very* quickly, which may deplete my healing ability
afterwards, so any other wounds will go much slower than normal.  If
I'm depleted, in protein, fluids, what have you, any healing will go
slower.  My body will begin absorbing moisture from the air,
increasing oxygen intake, sacrificing unnecessary cells for
sustenance."

Realizing she was holding herself somewhat tightly, Jameson tried to
relax with a slow deep breath as Dasham sat considering her answers...
and suddenly understood the tension.  She was revealing herself to a
woman who had once violated her.  Trusting her with data she could
easily use to destroy the Walker.

She looked at Dasham, sitting there listening attentively, and felt
oddly protective of the woman for a moment.  The next words to come
out of Jameson's mouth sounded harsh and grated on her own ears, "And
you don't really die.  I mean, you can die over and over, but your
soul, your essence of being and thought and feeling does not easily
detach from your body.  The rebuilds just take a little longer.  And
it hurts.  You feel every moment of it and it hurts."

Dasham went slightly pale.  "The memories... the things I saw in your
mind when I... that was you dying, wasn't it?  I thought... I don't
know what I thought.  I told myself something because I didn't want to
think..."  Her eyes looked slightly wild for a moment, then abruptly
she was back in control and calm, though her eyes glittered nervously.

Jameson suddenly stood up.  She needed to leave.  "Thank you for the
juice."  She turned on her heel and walked toward the doorway.

"Leaving."  Dasham said, her voice sounding odd enough that Jameson
looked over her shoulder at the woman.  She looked puzzled.  "You're
not just leaving, you're _leaving_.  Why are you...?"  Brilliant
emerald eyes met clouded green in an obvious question.

Jameson stopped walking and turned back around.  "Get out of my head,"
she said very tightly, fists clenched and jaw tense.

Now Dasham looked surprised.  "I'm not in there.  You're scattering it
like autumn leaves, a leave-taking.  A severing of ties.  And I can
hear echoes of it in your past.  You are escaping, almost, withdrawing
and leaving intimacies behind..."

"I'm not..." Jameson began before the truth of it struck home even as
she recognized the change in Dasham's voice -- it was suddenly
familiar.  As if she'd heard it every day of her life... She was
preparing herself to move on.  To walk out of these tangled lives
around her and return to Walking and mapping, moving as she always
did.  Neither seeking nor finding.  Just observing.  The reality of it
blossomed within her, exploded like a light show of realization in her
mind and she caught her jaw hanging partly open.  She snapped it shut
and finally found a retort, "So?"

Dasham opened her mouth to speak, but stopped herself and shook her
head.  "I don't wish to be drawn in.  This is something you are doing
yourself.  I will only wish you farewell.  Should we part for days or
decades, you have my gratitude."  She smiled the same pleasant,
relaxed smile she had when Jameson had entered.

The Walker spun angrily and left.  She didn't need a guide line to
retrace her steps, she was a mapper damn-them.  She remembered
patterns of travel.  Sweeping past students and journeymen, her stride
long and jerky, she practically ran past the front desk to get away
from the cramped feeling of the huge building and only stopped once
she was outside, panting softly, breathing fresh air.  She began
walking again, this time a bit less angrily, having an internal debate
with herself...

	Why shouldn't I leave?

  Because this sector would be perfect to set up a base and explore
  outward.  It's a Nexus, for stones' sake.  We could even create an
  outpost here.

	There are plenty of other places to do that.

  Really?  Ones that haven't been adequately mapped by either the
  Onari or the 'kan?  It might take another 600 spans to find one.

	Why should I stay?

  Why should we go?

	Because... because.

  Because we are avoiding getting close to anyone again?

	Don't be ridiculous.

  Face it, losing Nescie the way we did affected us more than you want
  to admit.

	No!

  Have we grieved?

	I...

  Not just for him, but also for ourself?  We lost, perhaps forever,
  a good friend.  Maybe something more.  And we almost died by his
  hands.  That's gotta hurt.

	Shut up.

  Ok.  But I think we should stay...

	Shut up!

  ...

	Damn.

She found herself in front of the Generican Public Gardens where she
knew Kardia was working.  Hesitating a moment, she seemed to make up
her mind about something and walked into the barn.

--- 
Dasham is an NPC being handled jointly by Stephen Hutchison and
Phyllis Rostykus.  Ar'Elya is property of Penny Hutchison and Kardia
belongs to Phyllis.  This post is copyright 1994 by Kelly J. Cooper,
all rights reserved.

Kelly J. Cooper
Writer for Jameson W. Walker
Contact for the Generican Mage Guild
kjc@cs.rutgers.edu