| Logs |
2001 September 01
| NachtMusik |
| Realms |
Retired
| Reality Fault |
General Info
 |
| Realms: NachtMusik Logs |
"Big Sister"
One evening when things are a little bit calm, Nick manages to find a few minutes to catch up on the regular running of the Ranch; making a list of stuff to get in town, sitting down and paying the bills, shooing the cat off of his computer and checking his messages. While he's checking his messages, he remembers something else he intended to do, and rummages in his pockets for the little, battered pad of paper he usually carries. On it, he has written a phone number and a name, "Aric." He's been meaning to call and thank Aric for a while. He picks up his cordless phone, goes out and sits on the deck to watch the sun set, and make the call. He settles in, looks at the fiery skies, smiles contentedly, flicks the phone on and dials, then waits for an answer.
The line buzzes a couple times, then clicks. The voice Taygeta was borrowing says, "Yes?"
Thessaloniki says, "Hello, may I please speak to Aric?"
Aric says, "Speaking."
Thessaloniki says, "A week or so ago you spent a week helping out some folks who needed your help. Pretty much took up all your time. I expect you don't remember me, but I had a chance to work with you then."
Aric says, "I was briefed about the Kyriotate's possession. I'm grateful for being put back in one piece."
Nick chuckles, then says, "We did try to make sure that worked out, yes. I wanted to call and thank you for you assistance, and to tell you that what you did was very important and valuable."
Aric says, "Just doing my job, sir. It's my duty." He adds, "It's a common thing for Soldiers to work with Kyriotates, but it's rare that we get thank yous."
"Maybe," Nick says, "-but I know that I and my friend Slate appreciated it a lot. Made things possible. I just wanted to make a point to let you know that, and perhaps to introduce myself, when you can remember me."
The voice pauses. "Are you...?"
Thessaloniki says, "No, sir, I'm not. In fact, I hooked up with the group a little later, so I'm sure you never saw me so you'd recall it. You might remember Slate; he's a big good-looking blonde fellow, who was there right from the start."
Aric says, "I'm afraid I don't remember anything past entering the men's room and then waking up there again. But I appreciate the thought. I'm glad I was of some service."
Thessaloniki says, "I understand. If there's ever anything I can do for you, please let me know and I'll try and help out. We all work for the same side, right? Personally, I create things, and I specialize in cars, and if you ever need any transportation you should get ahold of me. Or I have the knack of making Father Time look the other way for a bit; I'd be happy to peel a year or five off of yourself or something you needed done."
Aric laughs a little, "That's really generous of you, thanks. I'll remember the offer. We can use all the allies we can get, right?"
Thessaloniki says, "You got that right. I expect my friend Slate would lend a hand if you needed it too, and all sorts of odd folks show up out here at my place, so if you need something somebody might be able to help." He gives the Soldier contact information and adds, "Anyhow, thanks again. Hope to have a chance to meet you, y'know?"
Aric says, "Well, sure. That's right nice of you. Glad to be a help, and if you need some mortal backup just ask the angel on duty at the Alamo."
Thessaloniki says, "Hey, I'll keep that in mind. I'll let you get back to your evening. You take care, okay?"
Aric says, "Sure thing. Thanks again; you have a good one now."
Thessaloniki gives an odd, old farewell, "May God go with you," and hangs up. After he hangs up, Thessaloniki tries to think whether he's heard anyone with a faint German accent and a strong Texan one at the same time. Then he settles back to watch the sun set, and makes a note to put Aric on his Christmas card list, and on the invite list for the big spring party.
Shateishael spends some time planning his intended climb of Enchanted Rock, enjoying the deliberate, thoughtful process. True, he'll be taking modern equipment... but, he figures, why not make the process a personally meaningful excursion, much as his adoptive Comanche friends would have, so many years ago?
Shateishael reflects -- Mitrah said to come at dusk, since the view was better then. That'll work nicely as the time to finish his climbing, since he knows summer temperatures regularly go into the upper 90s, and even higher -- he'd like to miss baking himself to a leathery crisp. Also, the park fills up rapidly during the day, and he'd like to miss the crowds too. According to the web-readings he did at the library, the park rangers simply close the park when there's more than about 170 visitors, since it can't really accommodate more, and this usually happens around 11:30 in the morning. At about 5ish in the afternoon is when the crush of the crowd thins out and folks are allowed to come back into the park.
Therefore he'll just turn up early, spend most of the day wandering around the shady parts of the park, pay for an overnight reservation at the 'primitive' camp grounds, and do the actual climb later in the early evening, when the heat's broken. True, he's not intending to camp precisely at the campgrounds proper, but the tiny fee will go to a good cause, and from what he's read, the so-called primitive camp grounds are actually pretty nice. Hot showers and flush toilets for when he comes down off the Rock in the morning... yup, he's gotten addicted to those over the years!
Shateishael packs his bike carefully... a little bit of climbing equipment for descending the north face, some suntan oil, several canteens, other stuff... he knows it will take about 45 minutes to climb the Rock -- no, Mitrah herself, he amusedly reminds himself -- and he'd like to spend the night either on the top or in the fissure within, if she'll allow him to do so. The former would be both visually pleasing for the dusk and dawn, and spiritually symbolic for the memory of the Comanche, while the latter would allow him to rest up several hours in a stone cave -- something every Stone angel can benefit from. With idle curiosity he wonders if Mitrah can rest up inside herself... then just grins and shakes his head at himself.
Shateishael finishes packing shortly after breakfast, then bids Nick a cheerful goodbye. He suits up and heads on out northwest of Austin, arriving at Enchanted Rock State Park's little entrance gate some time later. He checks his bike's clock and nods once to himself in satisfaction -- right on time, well before folks are being turned away. He steers the big bike into the park, purchases his camping permit, and parks where directed. About 45 minutes later he's changed clothes, sorted through his equipment, filled his canteens, repacked the necessary equipment into his hip pack, put on suntan lotion and his hat, clipped the canteens to his belt, double-checked everything -- and is finally ready to go. He heads out with cheerful enthusiasm.
Shateishael has stripped down for easy hiking -- for a sturdy angel, that is -- rubber-soled hiking boots, cut-off jeans shorts, his little hammer pendant on its ubiquitous leather thong about his neck, the hip pack and canteens on his belt, and his hat. There's a nice soft flannel shirt tucked in with his climbing gear in the spacious hip pack, for later when it gets cool at night, but for now he'll stick to the shadier parts of the park, like the animals themselves, and let the suntan oil and the hat do their job. Besides... not only does it get very warm very fast here while hiking... but he also enjoys the feel of sun and breeze and plant life on his bare skin. Been a while since he's been able to do that, he reflects amusedly... this sure is an uptight culture currently, at least as far as clothing goes.
Shateishael strides out briskly, heading for the hiking paths around Enchanted Rock and her companion batholiths. He doesn't follow the path precisely, however. Instead he walks near it, shadowing it occasionally, so he can quietly stay out of the way of people. Easier not to have to explain either why he's wandering around in the heat alone, or later having to explain what he's doing heading for the Rock only an hour or two before sunset, after all... and it allows him time to sink back into a different mode of thought when he takes his time and appreciates his environment.
Shateishael notices the ubiquitous rock and fox squirrels, of course -- hard to miss them running madly around until the heat of the day causes even them to head for cover -- and on more than one occasion in his wandering path he pauses, his eye caught by something of interest to him. Colorful lichens on water-tumbled rocks lining the twisting, mostly dry banks of Sandy Creek's braided streambeds; tall pecan trees thick with pecans and slender, pale green leaves; dark, curving old hickories, tangled mesquite thickets... a few gracious elms providing shelter and food to numerous species of birds, including the shy (and tasty!) wild turkey.
Shateishael picks up a handful of pecans and wanders contentedly, quietly cracking open the shells two at a time in one fist, to eat the sweetmeat within. For a moment the tracks of a curious whitetail deer entrance him, and he follows them for fun, wandering through a live oak stand to learn to his amusement that the doe has circled around to watch him also. Black-tailed jackrabbits and cottontail tracks and scat can be found also, wandering through the protective thickets of sharp-clawed and/or tasty plant life -- agarita, prickly pear, Texas persimmon, Mexican buckeye, soap-tree yucca, the thick clumps of beargrass... none of spring's riotous profusion of flowers at this time of year though, unfortunately. Perhaps he can come back next year at that time... that'd be nice.
As the day progresses, Slate knows the few snakes and swiftly scuttling lizards he glimpses will soon be heading into their cool niches under sun-warmed rocks. He is pleased to also spot both raccoon and, later, a shy armadillo wandering unconcernedly about their business. Each time he goes still, silently and contentedly watching them undisturbed for several minutes, before he continues. He's glad to see the park's natural environment is doing so well, away from the more heavily human-traveled routes... that should please Mitrah as well. He grins then, wondering if Mitrah was the doe, keeping an eye on him. No matter... he doesn't mind her watching him. It's her park, after all... he's the guest here.
At the base of Enchanted Rock herself Slate pauses for a moment, studying the gently curving, rising flanks of the granite batholith. Here he is, finally -- at Enchanted Rock, the geologic center of Texas. He looks around slowly, savoring the life and stone around him, remembering information he'd learned or looked up earlier in his life. He knows that from almost any place in the park one can see examples representing the whole evolution of plant life -- from lichen (the slowest growing plant on earth) to mosses, to ferns, to herbaceous plants, to shrubs and finally trees. He wonders for a moment if Rosenstern would like it out here... do Flowers angels like rough, somewhat harsh desert areas? He doesn't know... he'll have to ask. Later, though.
Shateishael crouches, studying the pinkish granite before him. He thinks a moment... he doesn't want to be intrusive, but he is a seraph of Stone, and 'feeling' the composition of rock is what he does. He looks up at the huge batholith, saying politely, "I mean no disrespect. I will stop at once if you wish." Then he slowly, almost reverently lays his palms flat against the pinkish granite before him, smiling with quiet pleasure to himself as he 'feels' the deep, sun-heated stone before him.
Mitrah is nowhere to be found; no indication is given if anything is out of order.
The information seeps through him, little by little... geologically Enchanted Rock and the adjacent granite domes called inselbergs -- island mountains -- contain amethyst, beryl, fluorite, pink feldspar, gold, silver, topaz, tourmaline, and veins of crystalline quartz. He can feel that the exposed surface of Enchanted Rock is but a small portion of the Enchanted Rock batholith, the upward intrusion of granite which occupies over one hundred square miles beneath the earth's surface. He understands how Mitrah might deeply enjoy being Enchanted Rock -- she's the largest inselberg in the surrounding Granite Highlands area.
After a slow moment of getting to 'know' the Rock, Slate straightens, tilting his head back to look up her sides. Heat shimmer still dances along exposed surfaces, and he knows later tonight the granite will 'talk,' groaning and creaking as it readjusts and compresses due to the temperature changes. Slate smiles -- it's a pleasure to him just to be in the company of such a huge old Stone -- then has a long drink of water. After that he sets his feet on the path up the sides of Enchanted Rock, Mitrah's ancient Vessel.
The climb itself is more serious, more thought-provoking to Slate than his cheerfully curious meanderings around the park earlier in the day. The latter was for fun. This feels more like... more like a pilgrimage, of sorts, to him. He's not only going back in memory's time to his Comanche friends, reiterating as best he can one of their spirit quests to answer important personal questions... but he's also being allowed a certain amount of... not intimacy, per se, but certainly a respectful approaching, he hopes, of one of his Superior's oldest and most trusted Servitors. It's a sobering thought... he hopes she doesn't find his tiny presence youthfully annoying. He'd like to be able to be of some assistance to her, perhaps... it might be a nice way to say thank you to her for letting him visit, if nothing else.
Shateishael fixes his Question in his thoughts -- how might he best serve humanity while here in the Truce City of Austin? He lets his non-conscious mind ponder that as he concentrates on the climb itself. It's not a difficult hike, just visually deceptive. The gently curving flanks of the Rock seem to always rise ever higher above him, still quite warm with the heat of the day, and it's hard to tell when he's reached the top. He sticks to shaded or greened areas as much as possible, but there are stretches where he can't avoid the bare rock, and there the temperature rises dramatically, even though the air is starting to cool with dusk's quiet approach.
Shateishael pauses often for breathers and water... and to take a moment to look around and enjoy the lovely approach of evening. The sky's previous almost actinic blue is slowly fading to softer, more gentle shades of cyan as the sun slowly sinks towards the west. Slate smiles, remembering the reverence accorded the sun by Comanche, Apache, and angel alike -- he can understand that. The Eye of God... he wonders if there are demons gathered in quiet, fragile companionship at that tea shop in Austen, waiting for it to set. He does not envy them the fragility of their few interpersonal bonds.
Shateishael finally reaches the summit of Enchanted Rock, and pauses to catch his breath, beaming as he pants quietly. He's never been here before -- only had it described in reverent, symbolic tones and phrases by Comanche companions who'd returned from inspirational journeys. He can understand that reverence... it's breathtaking here, in a quiet, subtle way. Smooth sheets of flaking limestone are slowly exfoliating back from the pinkish granite down Mitrah's flanks, as if she were shedding from the heat of summer, while dotted sparsely across her uppermost surface are little miracles of life -- the vernal pools, currently the bright-gold hues of summer grasses, but still full of life.
Shateishael knows these small, weathered pits have, over the centuries, captured soil and water on the summit of Enchanted Rock and the surrounding outcrops and, astonishingly, become exceptional, very delicate ecosystems full of over one hundred different types of plant and animal life -- which support a unique invertebrate: the fairy shrimp. Whether the pools appear as bare rock depressions during the winter, or are filled with plant life, all the pools are in an amazing process of evolution which has required thousands of years -- far longer than he himself has been alive. He carefully avoids walking through or otherwise disturbing these marvelous areas, knowing that even in their dormant state the fairy shrimp are there still, appearing as no more than dust when the pools are dry. Slate grins -- for all her massive size, Mitrah's full of delicate, subtle surprises, he thinks.
Shateishael catches his breath, then continues with his mission-quest for inspiration. First he wanders slowly and quietly around on Mitrah's surface, mentally thanking her and all the life here for allowing his presence at this time, while he collects small pieces of flint so he may build a small cairn for his vision quest. It doesn't take long... the most time consuming part is reflecting carefully on his Question as he gathers and stacks the stone. He builds it near to the one vernal pool that can support a tree -- a lone oak, unfortunately currently defoliated due to the present drought, but still a graceful symbol of the dogged tenacity of life.
Shateishael next faces each of the cardinal directions, singing a quiet prayer of thanksgiving in his former peoples' tongue. To the North he faces out towards a greenery-framed line of pink hills -- castle tors -- as he sings to Earth's sturdy physicality -- the most sacred direction, where the ley lines lead to, the traditional home of the gods. To the East he looks out towards distant, curiously eroded Edwards Plateau, ancient beyond his understanding, breathing deeply as he sings for Air's communication and wisdom. Turning towards the South, he looks immediately down onto the bare, hot summit of Little Rock, and he sings to Fire's courage and energy... although with a touch of regret for poor Gabriel's madness. Finally he turns West, towards the setting sun, and sings of Water's intuition and healing.
Once Slate has properly greeted and thanked his environment, according to the several religious traditions he's experienced, he falls silent, breathing slowly and deeply for several minutes to center himself, letting the peace of the Rock pervade him. Finally he sinks down to sit, still facing West, cross-legged and straight backed, watching the sun slip gracefully behind delicately hued fingers of cloud.
Shateishael half-dreams, half-meditates in the cooling dusk, lightly playing a drifting, dreaming tune on his recorder as he sits. He'll stay here on the surface for now, contemplating his Question through the night... and maybe later he'll go pray within Mitrah's Fissure, to re-energize, and for the pleasure of laying full-length on Stone once again, feeling it all along his skin. If she comes to him at some point, he'll gladly talk with her... but until then perhaps it would be most courteous to await her.
Shateishael lays back once it's full dark, stretching out on the stone and enjoying the feel of it against his skin, letting the moon and the Milky Way fill his eyes and his mind. He spends some time there, almost drifting off into sleep, comfortable and centered-feeling. A quiet tune drifts into his head, through his fingers to the simple flute, and the words dance in his mind,
Night again, with stars
I blink awake
stretch sore limbs
look up
Soon I am lost
in the contemplation
of stories stitched in light
across the sky
In the evening chill
I huddle in my kimono
a patchwork of pasts
and lessons learned
A life is just a crazyquilt of stories
A story is just a crazyquilt of lives...
Shateishael lets the last quiet notes drift away on the evening breeze... then rises easily. He'd like to see the fissure. From the lack of bats in the evening he'd guess the human tourists have scared them off -- a pity -- but he'd still like to wander in the quiet, dark warmth of the inner fissure for a bit, even if he can't go spelunking deeper within. He flicks on a fluorescent glow-tube, then climbs carefully down to one of the dozen or so fissure entrances.
Shateishael steps carefully in through the entrance to Enchanted Rock Fissure. The glow-tube gives a cool green tint to it, as far as it can illuminate. Slate knows from his readings that it extends far beyond the short bit he can see, however... that it's a deep, narrow, cave-like ravine with sheer drops and tight passages. He suspects Mitrah won't let him go spelunking further within... the 1,000-foot-long talus fissure contains tight passages; wet, slippery surfaces; numerous steep inclines; and hazardous vertical drops. He's an experienced climber, but he also knows she wouldn't know that, and might well be wary that he not have the requisite skill and climbing ability to experience safely. Plus, he reflects amusedly to himself, that's probably where she's building her bomb...
Shateishael looks around in the utter silence and green-lit darkness. No more nesting rock and canyon wrens... no more roosting cave myotis and other bats. He sighs softly, a little wistfully... he likes humans well enough, but he does wish they weren't quite so ecologically damaging. He paces slowly in a few steps, then sits, to put his hands on the rock and simply enjoy resting and recovering himself in a stone cave.
Mitrah's not giving any indication at all. It's likely though that she is in the stone right now. Characteristically, she remains silent.
Shateishael closes his eyes and once again lets his internal resonance-enhanced senses extend to 'feel' the ancient stone about him... it's always a pleasure to vicariously be part of something so old, solid, and permanent. Granite, quartz, pink feldspa- whoa! Uranium, and a lot of it! He blinks, his eyes opening... is that good for Mitrah, to have so much uranium inside her? -then wonders uneasily if it really was just humans that drove away the internal fauna of Enchanted Rock... he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes again. Maybe he'd better try to figure out more... that is his current quest, after all... he lets his senses extend again, reaching for all he can learn.
The rock groans deeply.
Shateishael smiles quietly, eyes still closed -- that's to be expected, considering the granite was so heated during the day. He remembers the stories different peoples told over the years... of Enchanted Rock 'talking,' giving off sparks of light and, for those mortals sufficiently sensitive to see celestially, glowing sometimes when Mitrah was within. He likes hearing the Rock speak to him... but he continues his quiet, gentle searching for more information to fulfill his assigned quest.
No, that's not quite right. The rock is talking. The grating of the rock is definitely forming syllables. Shateishael blinks -- that's unusual! -then listens carefully for Mitrah's words.
"Mind your eyes, Truthsayer... and be mindful of where you stand."
Shateishael frowns... fair warning from the Seneschal -- and carefully searches around himself with his senses, to be sure he's not near a new vertical crevasse. "Is there too much uranium in here for a human vessel to stay safely, Seneschal?"
"It's too deep for mortals to be in danger. The sluices are deep below."
Shateishael nods at Mitrah's words, "All right." He pauses, reflecting, then adds, "Do you have all you need? I am to help you if I can."
The ground ahead heaves once, then bursts, the rock pulling itself up and shaping itself into a rough female form. "All I need now is time," Mitrah grates, "But I will need someone to carry the bomb to the catacombs."
Shateishael's eyes widen as the green-lit rock forms before him -- then he smiles, both impressed and pleased that she'd speak with him. He nods, then curiously asks, "Can you give me a map of the catacombs? How much do you have, and will it destroy an unprotected vessel to carry it? How much time do you need?"
"You're eager," she rasps, "But that's fine. I don't have a map. Frexindetious kills anyone that goes there. I have enough to blow up the entire system... placed properly. It will be several more weeks. It won't be long now."
Shateishael looks a little worried, but just nods quietly, thinking. After a moment he says, "If Frex kills anyone that goes there... how far in does the bomb have to be placed?" He thinks dryly to himself, Well... I shouldn't be surprised she's willing to sacrifice me. She was more than willing to sacrifice Druiel, after all.
Mitrah says, "Deep. Nearly at the bottom; there's a fault there. Disturbed there, anything that isn't blown up will be destroyed when the aquifer backs up into it."
Shateishael nods quietly again, still thinking... then he looks up at the stone woman, "I'll see if some of the human geologic maps will help. Finding the easiest way there and back sounds like it may well be important." He smiles slowly, watching her, then adds, "You do intend to wait until your bomb transporter is safe before setting it off, yes?" He listens to her answer for Truth.
Mitrah says, "I will do my best to see that you aren't harmed." She folds her arms, "I can hear your Resonance, boy. I won't blow you up if I can help it."
Shateishael nods and smiles quietly, and doesn't bother asking what her priorities are. He suspects he already knows anyway. He hms slowly to himself, considering. Need to find some of the human geologic maps -- the university should have those. Need to do research on nuclear explosions. Need to find out how much... ah. He looks up again and asks curiously, "So... how much uranium is there? Does it take ounces? Pounds?"
She says, "It doesn't take much. Not for my purposes."
Shateishael says, "Your purposes... to open the catacombs to the aquifer? Can you... 'feel' that area? Will you know if it succeeds?"
Mitrah says, "It's a Tether. When it collapses... there will be no mistaking it."
Shateishael stares at Mitrah in some startlement... then oh!s at her comment, "You mean a Tether to the other side, yes?"
Mitrah frowns. "You don't believe I would blow up one of ours." It isn't a question. "The Catacombs belong to Death... for now."
Shateishael grins, "No, I don't... which is why I was startled for a moment." He thinks for a bit, then says slowly, "Seneschal... you might want to warn someone in the city to be alert for Death's creatures driven up from underground into the city. Or I could tell them... is there anyone you think I should tell in particular? Unless... if you could hold off on setting off the bomb for about two hours, I could get back in time to do it myself?"
Mitrah says, "I doubt anything will survive. Frex's creatures are too stupid, and I will not leave Frexindetious alive. If you want to give warning, then have someone watch the Congress Street Bridge and Bracken Cave."
Shateishael nods, "All right. I'll check them out later, and before the couple of weeks is up, to be sure." He pauses, wondering if Frex is as stupid as people seem to believe it is... he sure hopes so. "Seneschal... would a demon be able to feel the uranium here too? Or do you reach far enough to cover it?"
"No," Mitrah says, "Only another Stone Angel could reach deeply enough."
Shateishael looks faintly relieved, "Good." He sighs softly, still worried about the entire affair, but knowing he's going to have to do more research at the university before he knows enough to make any sort of good decision.
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