TheStarsAreRight:DaleNote1
With a sigh, Redland puts down the weeks-old journal article he's been trying (unsuccessfully) to read and looks around for Mr. Parsons. Seeing him in conversation with Carl, he continues to leaf listlessly through the article, while he waits for a break in the action. Eventually Carl heads off and Redland tentatively approaches Dale.
"Hello. I was wondering if, uh, I might steal a few moments of your time. That is, if you're not too busy."
The office door is open, and Dale is still seated at his desk. He's still got a bit of a grin on his face from talking to Carl, perhaps. He notices your approach, smiles, waving you in with his right hand, and nods. His body language is relaxed and loose-jointed, but his hands quickly become busy fiddling with a paper-clip, twisting it into some complicated shape. "Sure thing Doc, come on in and pull up a chair. I've got nuthin' but time until the Talent shows up in a few hours." He gestures at a simple, but elegant Samovar on his sideboard. "Ya want some tea...or maybe somethin' harder?" Dale looks a bit concerned at Redland. "Howzaabout a snack, maybe?"
The office is odd- you might expect it to be disorderly, cluttered, messy and dirty. It is none of those things. The desk has a pad of paper w/ some sort of writing on it...Russian? No? Mystic Symbols of Power? Nope....shorthand? and a pen and pencil set. A ledger book bound in leather, and a clunky adding machine are off to one side. Fresh flowers in a cut glass vase. A bell that wouldn't feel out of place at a hotel registration desk. Plenty of stuff in the room, but displayed with some care. Behind him on a stand on the sideboard is a European style Longsword, possibly antique, but with a less-than antique leather grip. On stands on the floor are several Saxophones (several Tenors, a Baritone, and an Alto) and a clarinet. Another stand has a guitar and a balalaika, along with a ukulele. Oak filing cabinets are around the room edge of the room, as well as some less-recognizable oak cabinets, as is a low oak table, a couch, a pair of overstuffed chairs, and a pair of upright chairs in front of the desk. You remember from earlier that behind that screen (an oriental scene involving cranes, woods, and a lake) to the left is a cot. There is an (well-used) upright piano against the right side wall, and a largish bookcase next to the entryway. Paintings and sketches along the walls, mostly landscapes and city scenes, some of it fairly avante garde.
Redland glances surreptitiously around the room, "Ah, some tea would be great, thanks."
Staring about more openly, his eyes fix on one of the saxophones. "Hmmm. Are you, perhaps, part of the talent yourself, or is it not good form to play at your own club?"
As he listens to Dale's reply, and without really noticing, Redland drifts over to the bookcase and looks it over intently (albeit not touching anything).
You notice that there are a fair number of complicated string-abstract artworks, small, twined around sticks at various points in the room...particularly near the book case. What the players would think of as America Indian "Dreamcatchers"). In the bookcase: (in English) books on mathematics, business, finance and accounting topics, as well as some handy guidebooks on Law (mostly to do with Import and Export controls), some trashy popular America novels from a year or two back, a fairly scholarly work on music theory, and a bunch of history books. Science books on sonics, biology, chemistry, metalurgy. Several Bibles. Also in English, low-level occult stuff (Cotton Mather's Magnalia Christi Americana, the complete Golden Bough by Frazer, etc.), books on comparative mythology and religion. History books in Spanish, German, Latin, various books in Russian, along with translation dictionaries for the same. For what it's worth, the bottom of the bookcase has closed oaken doors.
Dale gets a couple of glasses that have sort of Arts & Crafts ("leaves n' shit") metal carriers. "Sure, sometimes I sit in...sometimes I'll jam wid' locals. Mostly I see if I can find local talent to play Jazz. I've found a few Russki who seem to have a talent for the Blues. Plenty of Longhair types, too, but they don't like to jam...still, it's fun to play the stuffed shirt stuff from the Great Composers once 'n awhile. But if I wanna hear some decent Stride, I gotta play it myself. And that's Life, ain't it?
You like your tea wid' milk n' sugar, like a Proper Englishman, or jus' wid' sugar like a proper Russki? Or heavily diluted wid' whiskey like a proper Amerikanski?"
"Just plain, please ... like, er, an improper Englishman?
"Hmmm." He chuckles briefly, "I must confess that I'm mostly a fan of the stuffed shirt music..."
A nod at that from Dale...not a surprise, really, but hardly offended. He draws the tea from the Samovar, both are done "neat" except that Dale's glass gets a few stalks of clove in the bottom. He hands you yours and raises his in silent toast and takes a slurp
Redland eye's linger briefly on the books on mathematics, then move to the popular novels, and finally settle on the works on comparative mythology. He looks back over at Dale with some embarrassment.
Dale looks back levelly, having finished off his paper-clip, he puts it aside and picks up an odd pen from the margins of his desk..it's light blue, and shaped as a simple cylinder with a rounded, very short blunt nib built in. Very plain, in fact too plain... there's no hole for the ink to be recharged. He begins to fiddle with it as you speak, his eyes still.
"This is a bit awkward, since I already know your feelings on the matter, but I was wondering if I could ask you some questions regarding summoning Outsiders and whatnot. Knowing myself (as I do), it seems a near certainty that I'm going to ignore your earlier advice (regardless of its wisdom) and push forward in my quest to communicate with the Outsiders."
Dale pulls a slight face- a sideways move out of the corner of his mouth. Disapproval, perhaps. He doesn't speak.
He hesitates briefly, "If you don't want to abet a person doing something of which you obviously disapprove, that's totally reasonable."
He sighs, puts down the pen and takes another slurp of tea. Cradles the glass in his hands. "OK, doc. Ya gotta know that I've walked down that road myself, and I've lost a lot of friends who walked even further down that road. Tha' truth is that I've had plenty of dealin's wid some of those Things. It's kinda hard to be much of a Sorceror widout you deal wid' 'em. The thing is, you gotta play it smart. You choose tha' ones you talk to, careful-like. Use 'em like dynamite..sweaty dynamite at that. There are rules you gotta use when you deal with 'em...not to survive, but to avoid becoming more of a Liability than an Asset. Old 1000-names is one of the most dangerous. The ones from farther out are way more powerful, but he's the one that knows us best. And he don' have our best interest at heart. Never. The big ones are like...a big storm, or a force of Nature. They're way to big to even notice us...though I guess sommathem are close enough to our level to enjoy tearing us apart. Old 1000-names likes to play. And Mortals who play wid' him always gotta come off the worse. "
For a brief moment, it appears that Redland is going to say something, but he remains silent.
Dale looks away out the window at the city, then looks back, his gaze mild. "So, what are you lookin' to accomplish, talkin' to any of 'em- let alone Old 1,000-Names- and don' tell me 'to save the World'. Old 1,000-names wid' just give you the instructions to put it in a bottle so it could age for an eon or two. You gotta deal in tactics as well as strategy if youse gonna win this War...well, not loose it too bad. Specifics."
Redland hesitates again, as if contemplating something, before he speaks. "I don't want to undermine my case too badly before I even begin, but I should let you know that I am almost wholly ignorant in ... well, almost everything, really." He waves a hand, "Even leaving aside the memory issues, I've only been journeying with ... the old philosopher-king since," he thinks for a moment, "mid-December, I guess, and a bunch of that time was lost to some time warp or some blasted thing."
Realizing he's babbling, he pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts.
At that, Dale's expression softens a bit in sympathy...and memory, and he listens. Still fiddling with he pen, but his eyes intent on Redland.
"Anyhow, to make a long story (moderately) short, let it be known that I don't possess an abundance of experience in mystic matters and probably most other things that would be relevant to this end-of-the-world business."
A nod of understanding, now tapping the pen gently on the desk blotter, like a drumstick making very tiny music.
He continues, earnestly, "That being said, I think everyone may be looking at things in the wrong way. What I really want to do, is avert this entire ... war ... incursion ... whatever you want to call it. If we can comprehend what the different groups of Outsiders want, perhaps we can find some way to coexist peacefully with them. It appears that they can't physically manifest here without causing harm to us, but there are other ways we can interact. Many of the Outsiders possess some sort of intelligence. That being the case, it is very likely that we can reach some sort of understanding. Perhaps some of them are malignant, but it seems unlikely that they all are. How could an entire ... race, or whatever they are, be 'evil'. Sure, they probably possess a completely different moral code, or, indeed, an entirely alien way of perceiving the world, but the same could be said of a koala compared to a human.
Dale starts to say something, but refrains, and just nods....
"Now, everyone I've talked to, of course, thinks I'm being hopelessly naive. They may very well be correct. However, I wonder if coming at things from a position of ignorance might not, conceivably, be helpful, in this particular instance. With the vast stores of knowledge available to the King of Life and the King of Fate, it may be that they are blinded by preconceived notions. Everything seems to be cast in terms that are militaristic and antagonistic. I'd like to switch that up and make relations friendly, positive.
A slight narrowing of Dale's eyes, but a slow nod. His body language becomes more engaged- leaning forward, listening actively.
"Now, I don't want to oversell the point," he says, somewhat bashfully, "When all of the experts say you are wrong, well, there's a very good chance you are mistaken. As long as I don't give away anything that's not mine to give, though, the worst that can happen is that I'll get ... used up. Don't get me wrong, I assuredly don't want that to happen. Carl, Henrik, and Rebecca can tell you that 'Danger' is not my middle name. Maybe 'Fleer'? My getting 'used up' is what I see as the worst-case scenario, as long as I'm careful. Even if my best case doesn't come to fruition, maybe I can achieve some intermediate result, such as some friendly Outsiders intervening on our behalf or some reasonable bribe to get some of them to leave us alone.
Still, with eyes narrowed, but another slow nod, considering.
"I guess you asked for specifics. I think that the first thing I need to do is to find some way to interact in a meaningful way with one or more Outsiders. Not just to 'negotiate', but to actively communicate and understand, in some fashion. If they remain completely alien, engagement will not provide the sort of results I'm hoping to achieve. Actually speaking to Outsiders seems a necessary step in this process, though not the only one...
"Sorry, I think I'm kind of rambling here, repeating myself, and all-in-all not explaining myself too well..."
He trails off and takes a sip of tea.
Dale waves off your protestations of rambling. "Ah, yeah. So you see yourself as the Diplomatic-guy for Earth."
Redland sort of shrugs in that palms-up manner that indicates "Eh, fair enough." He has some livid scars on his wrists that become momentarily visible beneath his ill-fitting suit when he makes this gesture.
"Not quite what I was afraid of...but....There are a coupla reasons why I'm a little worried about your plan.
The first is that I've lost a buncha friends and comra...buddies...who spent a lot of time talking to the Elder Gods, and the Outer Ones, and their Servitors. The was trying to learn how to fight 'em. Then they started learnin' how to get more powerful so they could fight 'em. Then they was more interested in just gettin' more powerful. Then some of 'em just wanted to make their new Lords n' Masters happy. Somewhere along the way they end up ins some dank basement guttin' kids and making pretty pictures with the entrails. They went nuts. Cookoo. Off their rockers. and not in a happy way.
And, B, when your friend starts to do stuff like that, you gotta take care of 'em. Put 'em down for good. That's kinda hard on a fellah."
(If Dale is the kind of guy who notices this sort of thing, it becomes apparent that Jack is not big on making eye contact. He'll often look down when speaking or listening, and will, at best, look at a person's mouth)
He pauses, lets that sink in, and continues earnestly, and matter-of-factly, gesturing with his hands. "Now, I'm not sayin' that your plan is gonna end up like that. I like the idea of learning more about or from the Outties. Fresh eyes are good, too. Your right- some of 'em aren't evil..some are so alien that they can't even see us as living creatures. Some are jus'...toxic to our world, or our minds. And some just like the way we taste: our bodies, our fear and pain, our souls. Some may just be hard for us to understand. You may be right...way back, I hunted the occasional vampire: now I have a guest room in the house set up if any visit, an' we're both on the same side. Maybe some of the Outties can be allies. And if your wrong about that, then at least we know more about them, and maybe we find a trick that'll save some lives....Not a Human and a Koala- more like a human an' a germ...an' we're the germs. Still, if the soap scum in my sink started doin' a Busby Berkely dance routine and tryin' ta talk wid me, I wouldn't reach for the carbolic right off."
Redland looks surprisingly heartened by these comments.
He looks Redland flat in the eye and quietly says "You gotta know, Doc. You need to walk carefully here. You gotta know that you'er not only riskin' your life: you're riskin' the lives of your friends, and innocent lives, too. You gotta respect that, an' even if we're on the clock, you gotta stay sharp: before you get used up, worse things can happen... You're way wrong, Doc. You getting used up isn't the worst case. You becomin' a nice, coldly rational, and completely evil Cultie, and skinnin' ladies and babies- and enjoying your work: that's your real worst case scenario." even more quietly "an' mine."
"That's one of the main reasons I figured I should talk to you about this stuff. I want to make sure that I don't do anything stupid ... well, stupider than usual... er, you know what I mean!
A considering nod from Dale, and a an expression that seems to hint at...respect, as well.
"As to the effects of power, I tend to side with Lord Acton in this regard. I wouldn't say that I'm indifferent to the acquisition of power. In fact, I fear it and actively seek not to attain it. This is likely problematic, as it seems probable that somebody will have to wield some power over the course of these strange times. I'd prefer it not to be me, though, which will, I suppose, limit my effectiveness."
Dale smiles slightly at that revelation.
He pauses as if recalling something, "Oh. I should mention that Carl, at some point, authorized me to negotiate on his behalf, which I assume means that I could bargain with things that fall under the domain of the King of Life. I have not done so, nor do I intend to do so in the future, unless he gives me very specific directives on what to do. The scope for screwing things up seems way too vast.
"So, what I'd like to ensure, if possible given that I'm messing with these forces, is that the worst case remains restricted to harm to myself. To that end, I'm generally disinclined to ask for anything when talking to the Outsiders, and I'm unwilling to give away anything except, er, I guess 'pieces' of myself. I'd obviously prefer to avoid that, too, but something has to give, right? Since you've come out at least relatively unscathed, I figured you might be the guy to talk to."
A very quiet sigh from Dale. He pauses a moment, considering, before gong on. Earnest and animated.
"Well, Doc, your dead wrong about you being the wrong guy to wield the power. In fact, if you seemed eager to step up and get power from the Outties...well, let's just say that I'd be redecorating tha' office tommorra. That's the last sortta fellow that you want dealin' w/ the Outties. They'll just screw us all goin' for the main chance." He smiles a bit, but a cold, slightly fearsome sort of smile.
Redland shifts awkwardly, unsure exactly how to take this.
Dale settles in to his points, ticking them off on his fingers. "OK. There are some old ideas that you've gotta start practicin'. You gotta start keepin' a notebook. If you do, you'll be able to get a better handle on what's goin' on. You never do any talkin' wid' the Outties widout some good buddy by your side to keep an eye out for you. In fact, youse gotta let your buddies know what your gonna do, when your gonna do it, and why- every time. Yah, there may be a time when you gotta break that rule, in an emergency. Not gonna be an real emergency very often, will it? Yah know, lives at stake and no way ta talk it over wid your buddies. Maybe they'll talk you outta doing somtin' dumb-assed. Maybe. And youse gotta take better care of youself. You gotta eat regular, get some fresh air, have some laughs once in awhile. Dunnoh what ya like: walk in tha' woods. Chase butterflys. Hunt tigers. Ride tha' Dutch Gal." A grin.
Redland looks a bit confused, but he smiles agreeably.
"Listen to some of tha 'longhair music'...this is a good country for that. Ya gotta do some fun stuff ta keep your mind from fallin' thru a rathole. If you jus'...withdraw from tha Human Race, you'll end up down tha' Rathole. Then, somebody gotta go fish ya out. Or put ya' down."
He winds down for now. "So, whattaya got in mind? Do you know who ya wanna talk to? Or study?"
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention what I'm about to say to anybody (though you can if you like), but I used to be quite diligent at keeping a notebook. Well, multiple notebooks, really. However, since my illness I've had a difficult time writing. I've had a bit of a hard time concentrating, but more significantly, my, er, manual dexterity has declined precipitously. As a side note, this is one of the reasons I want to return to New York. I had taken extensive notes no, well, everything, which were (apparently) lost sometime during my stay there.
"All that being said, I think your advice is good. Secrets have not been good for our little group, and my deteriorating health serves no useful purpose..."
He thinks for a minute.
"Hmmm. As to who I want to talk to, do you know who 'The Lady' is?"
Dale ponders a moment. "Hey, I know lot's of Ladies....someawhich might even be Ladies, if yaknowwhatimean...but I tink, maybe you're talkin' about a Particular Lady."
"Hmmm. Yeah, that was pretty vague. Do you know much about the so-called, er, Principles (with a capital 'p')? The six women who ... represent them in some fashion (though I'm not sure if 'represent' is an accurate description). Or about the (somewhat) recent situation in Bailey?"
Dale nods. "Uh, yeah, I read some of the Prophecy stuff that Carl's got, but it was awhile ago. Principles- check. The six Broads- they don' so much as represent them, they are more like...the physical embodiment of the Principles. They Become the Principles, kinda like the King, uh, I mean an Old time-King, became the land, uh the Kingdom. Yeah, Check!...not sure I've heard anything about Bailey, though.
"Ah, good. It sounds like you know as much, or more, about this than I do. Well, in regards to Bailey, Constance Talmedge, the Principle of Compassion, was based out of that location. Now, this takes place back in December, which is when I first," he waves his hands in an all-encompassing gesture, "found out about all of this stuff. So, my understanding of exactly what happened is incomplete. However, apparently something had gone wrong and she was no longer holding up her end of the bargain to protect the earth (or something along those lines). We traveled there and Carl, Auda, Henrik, Rebecca, and John Elwar confronted her. I was there, too, but I lost my nerve and fled, so I'm a little hazy on the details..." He looks down. "Not my finest moment.
Dale nods, matter of fact, with a slight smile.
"Anyhow, they did something that resulted in the 'destruction' of Constance. Thus, we lost our connection to the Principle of Compassion.
A slight look of surprise crosses Dale's face as he digests this information
"Now, since then I've learned a little more about how this whole 'Principle' thing works. The way I understand it, you have to locate the (unique) 'Agent of Change' and then this person finds one of the potential Principles. Then the Agent makes some sort of bargain with a particular Outsider (in this case 'The Lady') and the Principle becomes 'active'.
A slight hint of puzzled expression from Dale.
"Now, the problem we have, is that Compassion's Agent of Change is dead. Because of this, and because of the shifting nature of their plans, the Kings seem to have abandoned attempts to facilitate the awakening of a new Principle of Compassion.
A nod from Dale
"My thought, is that we can just bypass all of this Principle, Paladin, Agent, etc. stuff and just go right to the source. If the Lady has some sort of connection with the earth, perhaps we can just talk to her directly and ignore the rest of these ceremonial trappings.
"So that's my thought. If I'm going to contact somebody, maybe the Lady would be a good bet."
Dale ponders a moment, and nods to himself. "Well, I ain't no philosopher- king, but I don't actually recall reading anythings about da Principles being Ouitsiders. They're, like, part of da earth. Magical, but not alien to her. Like your immune system being separate from your brain. But still all part of you."
A look flashes across Redland's face, though it's difficult to ascertain what it signifies.
"Outties, well, they are not just magical, and not just monsters- they really don' belong here. They mess ting's up, just being here, and don' get me started on their eattin' habits. The Principles are natural. Even so, contacting The Lady is something that might be worth doing. I just...if it was that easy, why wouold they work through intermediaries? Why the whole Agent o' Change choosin' among tha Cannidates, one of 'em becomin' tha Vessal, embodying the Principle, rigmarole?. Still, worth investigating the idea...but, just 'cause The Lady isn't an Outtie, doesn't mean she isn't dangerous. Neither's a grizzly-bear, but mess wid' one and you can still end-up bear-scat. And, just 'cause you think you're dealin' wid The Lady, don' mean you might not be talkin' to some Outtie in a wig an' dresss. Wise to take your time, and ...precautions."
"One thing I recall Carl telling me is that there is a kind of joke that the being associated with the Principles seems to embody the opposite of its name, which I guess would mean that The Lady has a near complete absence of compassion. So, one possibility is that the whole rigmarole is actually a necessary component in the process, one that ... transforms reality or somesuch.
Dale nods and chuckles at that.
"Alternatively, it could be that the ceremonial trappings are part of a useful past, but have lost their relevance (or even oppose their original intention), kind of like shaking hands to show you don't have a weapon or something... er, assuming that was the origin of shaking hands... Sadly, like everything else it seems, we just don't know that much about how things work."
Dale nods in understanding, but looks a bit skeptical.
Pauses.
"Oh, and when you say 'precautions', what are you referring to?"
Dale swings his legs out from under the desk, gets up and paces for a bit. "Well, Doc, some of that's stuff I already told ya about: you make notes about what you're tryin' ta do, and how you're trying ta do it; ya, make sure you tell yer freind's waht's goin' on." Dale pauses momentarily and considers. "Of course, once ya gets started, it's all Jazz- ya gotta be ready to improvise on the spot, trust your intuition, if the logic of the moment demands it, and suit tha line your followin'. Then, your friend's really should be on hand with plenty of firepower ta take care of stuff if it all goes bad on ya. 'Never Call Up What You Cannot Put Down' is still pretty good advice. Have some guns on hand. Plus, enchanted weapons, if you can- just in case. Make sure you do the deed someplace where you won't be interrupted by Mundanes..or the cops, if you can."
"Then, ya gotta know who you'll be talkin' to, and everything ya' can about what they're like. Are they vulnerable ta anything? What can they do ta you? Does anythings scare 'em off? Blind 'em? Can you confuse 'em? Can they confuse you? Are they invisible? Tha' more ya know, the better armed ya are."
Redland starts to interrupt, but then realizes it's best to keep listening.
He's getting into his stride, gesturing more with his hands, now. "So, ya also gotta know about Wards and Summoning Circles. Heck, basic ritual magic. Ya ever done any chemistry experiments? Well, you want ta control as many variables as ya can when you Summon or Contact. The Circles help with that. You get a clean ritual space widdout too much contamination. Less likely ta get the wrong critter, or confuse the situation. Same ting' wid youse mind: you gotta concentrate on what ya want, and keep tha other thoughts in the background. Start to collect gear ya need for youse ritual, and only use it for that purpose. Protect it. Find gear that...'talks' ta ya, that...resonates wid ya, in a way that helps keep ya on your right mind."
"I'd sort of assumed that anything I summon up could pretty easily wipe the floor with me. Aren't all of these Outsiders (at least the one's intelligent enough that I'd bother trying to communicate with them) considerably stronger than us (or me in particular?)
A brief shake of the head from Dale, but no interruption.
"And how do you know, in general, what you're summoning up? So far, my contact with Outsiders has always been at their discretion. They've been down here and instigated communication with me.
A brief nod in response...
"Er, and I'm afraid I'm completely lacking in knowledge regarding wards, summoning circles, and, indeed, ritual magic entirely. Sorry I'm so ignorant on this stuff... I'm still pretty much aspiring to reach step 1 of the process. It's something that I've discussed with Carl a little bit, but only in pretty broad terms. Unlike a lot of mystical things, this one is not really his cup of tea, I'm afraid. He's often mentioned going to 'the Tower' where they have some sort of summoning room, but we've never really found the time..."
Dale shakes his head, slowly. "Jeez. If your gonna do dis thing, then you gotta know how to do it safely...well, safer. This'll take some time, so don' expect to be doin' a lot too soon." He ponders for a moment. "Well, to begin with, your right that a lot of things Out There are gonna be able to beat you at arm wrasslin': Don't wrassle 'em. Don' play their game, be a tool user. You'd be surprised how many things are vulnerable to a clip of ammo from a .45. Or, better yet, a Tommy Gun. And if that fails, a BAR, or even a luparaloaded with silver and iron shot."
Redland looks a bit confused.
"Jus' gotta be careful with the silver loads if the Ambient gets too hot. It's worth having a buddy nearby who can give you a hand. Then, having a knife or sword that's been enchanted to damage critters is even better.... but that'll cost ya. And the real big, or powerful ones are immune to most of that stuff...well, maybe not the enchanted weapons, but good luck stabbing Ol' Squid-Face- all you can reach is ankles, and he'll tear you to bits before you can get in another cut.. Worst comes, you can blow your own brains outta your own head before it's too late."
Redland makes a mental note here.
"I'll start in teaching ya the ropes on Summoning Rituals and Wards when we get back from the Dead Spot. To start wid, you're right- ya gotta have a good idea of the phone number of the thing your gonna call. Get the best mental image of it that you can. If you know any rituals that'll call it out, use 'em. If you can't research 'em, then at least get to know everything you can about the one you want to call. Keep all the extra...distractions...away from the ritual space- magical, mental, sensory. That's one reason you try and work in teams. Your buddy can watch your back. That's also why you use the Circle. Capice?"
"Yeah, that makes sense. I'm happy to learn all I can. It's always a good thing to know more.
An answering grin from Dale at that.
"Er, I was wondering, you say it's best to kill yourself before it's too late. Can the Outsiders make you do things you don't want to do? That is, can they directly manipulate your brain in some fashion (like I understand can be done by the King of Fate, to some degree), or can they only 'trick' you into becoming their pawn?"
Dawning awareness flows into Dale's face, and he shakes his heads slowly. "Jeez...Carl's been outta tha' Field too long. And I guess tha' old Farquellian Guard is mostly dead, and the Young Turks are kinda spread thin." Dale looks Redlands directly in the eye "Some can absolutely fool you into being a pawn- Ol' Thousand-Names is the best example. Think of him as 'Old Scratch'...know anything about Vudun? Ever heard of Legbah? Anyway, that's one sort- the games-player, the manipulator, the Tempter."
From Redland's face, it doesn't appear that he knows these other guys.
"Then, there's the other kind- they can, absolutely, mess with your mind. They can change the way you think. Get you to play fr their team, and make you think it's the most natural thing in the world.Some of them are able to control your mind...say the Nightsiders are one example...others are not so much trying to maniplate you, it's just the way they warp reality, and the way we respond...The King of Fate, though, he doesn't so much mess with your mind, he changes your Fate...deeper than the mind... So yeah, you wanna be prepared to off yourself, both for your own sake, as well as for your buddies, and for the World itself. "
"I had not realized the Nightsiders had that sort of power. Would the Fae also be in this camp? Is there any way to protect yourself from this, other than laying low or committing violence?"
Jack considers for a moment.
"Hmmmm. The King of Fate. I trust that guy as far as I can throw him. Would methods that protect me from 'Outside' influences, if any exist, also protect me from Theo?
"Now, with the 'Tempters', it would seem that I just need to be on my guard. One presumes they are more cunning than I am, but it seems that defense would be much simpler than in the case of those who can directly influence."
Dale considers a moment, then begins in his usual matter-of-fact way, looking into space. He takes out an American automatic pistol from under his left armpit, lays it on his desk blotter (facing away from the two of you), and proceeds to disassembles it by touch, while his mind is on your answer. "So, the Night...er Fae- yah, they can do what they call a Compulsion. Mind Control. It takes 'em some time to get it right, and they gotta concentrate hard, too. Mostly, being aware is your best defense. And Violence works, too. Runnin' away, well the Fae can run faster than you, and jump pretty good, too. So, you're better off dumpin' some energy, or a can of black pepper, over your shoulder. Maybe droppin' a flare, if youse got one and the distance is right. And you can just shoot evil fae...if you got the drop one one. Use a big gun, though. Just woundin' one might not stop him. I got a coupla spells that work, too, but the're hard on the spellslinger, too."
Redland makes a mental note here.
"As for getting Theo in some sort of Ward, or puttin' one around you- I wouldn't count on it. What he does, he does because he's got the Sophia on his side. It's above my paygrade." Dale ponders a moment. "I used to know Theo, kinda. Seemed like an OK joe, but who knows, now. Anyhow, he works on a real deep layer, fundamental: Fate. I'm not sure what you can do to stop that. Maybe... I can do some research. I kinda wonder, if the King of Fate is that powerful, why is the old King dead, though? Oh, and some folk will tell ya that he's gotta touch you to get you: I don' count on that, myself."
Redland grimaces.
He inspects his pistol, then nods, puts it back together by touch. Thinking for a moment, Dale continues. "Yah, the Tempters are tricky, and one of the simplest ways to defend yourself against 'em is to not deal wid' 'em." He looks back at you. "Your path make that kinda impossible. So, knowing that you gotta be on your guard is the next best thing. Don' take what they say at face value- check all da facts you can, and always wonder 'what's in it for dis guy? Who does he work for?' Then, take what they say wid a big bucket of salt. Still, in the war, when we'd captured a kraut, we still found out a lot from the lies he'd tell. Particularly when you could be pretty sure they was lies. Then of course, you gotta wonder if he knows you know, and once you know he knows that you know...und so wieter"
"A couple of quick notes before the questions...: 1) I initiated a conversation, telepathically, with the King of Fate, so he has my signature, which might have been a mistake. 2) I was briefly a 'Companion' of the Fae, when I allowed them to inject me with some of the necrophage, back in Los Angeles, in case that's relevant."
Dale nods, but doesn't seem put off, horrified, or terribly surprised.
He continues in a self-deprecating tone, "If there's something stupid that can be done, rest assured, I've done it ... or at least considered it."
That merits a brief chuckle from Dale, and a wry nod.
"Now, let's see, quick question. It sounds like you're considering the Nightsiders and the Fae to be the same. I've tended to call the Fae, those who have been, sort of, uh, made more human-like by their contact with Medea. I consider the Nightsiders to be the original version. Would you make any distinction between the two?"
Dale's eyes narrow slightly, following your point, but he doesn't interrupt.
He continues on, somewhat rapidly, "Oh, and I could see how a flare might be useful, but why would the black pepper or energy do anything?"
A slight smile at your question, but Dale waits for you to run out for the moment...
He starts to say something else, but then realizes that it'd be wiser to allow Dale some time to answer.
Dale considers for a moment, and counts off his answers. "Lessee. 1. The King Of Fate, if what I've heard is correct, can still find you in lots of ways. The fact that you used Brain Wave Radio on him does give him your BWR signature, and he can use that to Wave you." Pondering, his eyes look off for the moment before he continues. He picks up the strange pen, and begins to fiddle with it again. "That might make it easier for him to influence your fate lines, but it don't mean that your a heck of a lot more vulnerable than anyone else. I think he jus' has ta meet ya." A cog falls into place. "Maybe not even that, directly.... If he has a good idea of what makes you an individual, anyway, he can send a Sprite after you- jus' like Carl. So, tha' fact that ya used Brain Wave Radio to talk to Theo doesn't make you much more screwed-pardon my french- than if ya hadn't, I guess." Dale shrugs. "Ain't nobody safe, so get over it. Just think through the risks against the rewards next time. Before ya jump in the river"
Redland files away the term 'Sprite'.
"2nd. With fae communion, if it's anything like the Nightsiders, ya gotta be worried about getting irreversibly tainted." He grimaces. "I've know guys who got hooked on Communion, and slid over into Taint...kinda like hop-heads or alkies. If you're smart about it, all you get is the rush, a Fae friend...maybe, and you have the after-effects that are...interestin'. You get an idea the life they live... And, yah, the Original Vamps were the Nightsiders. I know more about them than the Fae. Once the Ambient began to rise, and the Age 'o Miracles started up, they woulda croaked eventually. If they hadn't been Saved by their Principle, Dr. Hannahlore...uh, you'd say 'Medea'...they'd have gotten Power Sick. By sharin' the Birthright, she's brought a lot of 'em into a common society, and she's even made 'em less predatory, and less like bastards. I guess. So, they are different biologically, and a lot of 'em are different in their outlook. Course, even back in the old days, they wasn't all bastards" Dale shrugs, looking a bit uncomfortable on the subject.
Redland makes a mental note about 'Elders'.
"3rd, well, the Nightsiders and the Fae, sorta, have really good senses- they can hear your heartbeat from a distance, they can hear the blood in your veins if they're close. they can see real well in the dark. They also have a real powerful sense of smell. So, you throw a cloud of pepper at 'em, they get hit by it more than you or I would. The sharp senses are great for huntin' but they are also a vulnerable ting'. Same deal with the energy: they can 'see' the energy real well, and a flash of it will distract 'em for a moment. It's the most interestin' show on the radio, for them. So they watch it. My guess is that the Fae are less distracted than the ol' Nightsiders, but it beats boxing with 'em...heck, wrasslin' with 'em is even worse- that's their strong suit." Pauses a moment. "Me, I'd sling a spell at one, unless I had a good gun and the range. If they we'ren't too big an' tough, the spell might kill 'em, or at least damage 'em real bad. Plus, the energy itself will distract 'em. Course, learnin' that spell costs. So does slingin' it."
"I like that, using your enemies strength against 'em. Also, it might allow you to escape without any violence, which is always a plus, in my book."
A nod and a smile from Dale at that construction
Jack tries to sequence his thoughts before continuing. "I haven't had too many dealings with Nightsiders. I'm given to understand that the rising Ambient you mentioned, combined with the, uh, 'Birthright' thing, have caused their numbers to diminish. The ones that remain struck some sort of deal with various Elders to allow them both to remain here unharmed. The only Nightsider I've met is a guy named Mr. Usher, who agreed to perform (or at least facilitate the performance of) a miracle for me. Presumably, a nice enough chap."
A nod...a slow one, from Dale.
"On the matter of Fae Communion, 'Taint' seems like a somewhat pejorative term. It's my understanding that this is (or was, I guess) the only way in which the Fae can propagate. Plus, it seemed wholly pleasant, unlike, I imagine, the after-effects of alcohol or drug consumption..."
Dale starts to shake his head at that, but waits and listens, instead.
He trails off slightly and then says, "Now, you talked abou something called a 'Sprite.' If I have my mythology right, I would say that is some kind of Faerie, but it sounds more like this 'spell slinging' you've mentioned before. Are either of those thoughts on the right track?"
"Well, Doc, be careful before ya decide to take Squire Usher...or rather his Elders...up on that miracle. I think you got the right idea about the Fae being a product of Hannahlore's Birthright and the rising ambient. And you're right about making deals to host Elders being one way to get around that for the Nightsiders. There may be more that we don' know about. The prospect of bein' cooked tends to get the creative juices flowin.
Jack nods his head in agreement.
Anyhow, if you do too much Communion with tha Fae, too often, the Phage gets ya and your now Fae..or at least at risk of it happenin' next time you share...even if you wait forever. If you'r careful, you can do Communion a lot of times, so long as you got the guts to go cold turkey and not Commune again until the Taint gets cleared out." A Puzzled expression crosses Dale's face. "Uh Doc, ain't ya never gotten drunk, or tried out somethin' stronger?" Quietly "jeezz. Ya, Communion is like that, only more so...and you kind get hooked on the Fae that gave it to ya, but that passes after you let the Taint fade."
Jack looks chagrined.
"Oh, and a "Sprite" isn't a spell like I know...it's Carl's name...a King thing. Once a King can ID somebody as a fairly unique individual, they can send a sprite, a point of glowin' light made with blood magic, out to...merge...wid that guy. Then, the Sprite comes home ta Papa, carrying information about who that guy is, where he is, what he's doing, and like that. If youse ever been "sprited" you'd know. Feels like getting smacked wid a wet noodle the size of a pillow...only sprirtually speakin'."
Redland laughs. "That's a very evocative description. I like it."
Dale nods and chuckles.
"Oh, on that miracle, my part in it is, basically, done. Rebecca would be the one that would experience the effects of the miracle, if there is any danger."
Dale's eyes narrow, considering, but he says nothing.
He switches gears abruptly. "I've always done my best to not engage in activities that might lead to addiction, and certainly those of a chemical nature: opiates, tobacco, alcohol, etc. I have an, uh, an addictive type of personality. With many things, I think that 'lead us not into temptation' is the right idea. On top of that, I've always avoided things (well, other than ideas, of course) that might externally influence my mind. After all," he says rhetorically, "what else do we really have?"
Dale tilts his head a little and nods- appreciating your point.
He ponders for a moment. "Well, that not entirely true. I used to be careful to avoid those things. Since falling in with this current lot, I've snorted the spirits of the dead, let a nice young lady drink my blood, allowed any number of people to tinker around in my brain, and have coughed up some number of memories to indescribable entities, among other things, I'm sure."
Dale chuckles quietly as he shakes his head.
He offers a crooked smile. "But what should I expect? You Americans are a bad influence!"
Dale's only response is a quiet snort!
He continues on in a quiet, somewhat halting manner. "You said, uh, that the, ... stuff ... passes after the necrophage has left your system. Is that always the case? Or can, er, can things linger?"
Dale considers for a moment, then starts off quietly, considering. "Well, Doc, ya gotta understand that I got limited experience with the Fae...all my close experience was wit the Nightsiders, years ago." He chuckles. "At least it was a nice young Fae lady...." Serious again. "Yup, you might be, uh, kinda sweet on her in the future...and it might be natural feelings about someone ya shared something special wid, or your addictiveness comin' in, or some Fae Glamour she's puttin' out. Hard to say. You might want to stay away from her, or at least keep your distance, or maybe let some warmblood ya trust keep an eye on ya when you're wid her...kinda like a chaperon. But, if you don' feel all like ya gotta go run home to her, and ya don' got a serious jones for Communion of the Non-Father-Pat sort, and you don' have the weird sensory spillover- you don' got thetaint...don't mean yo won't open a vein to her and get it next time you see her..."
Redland looks a touch uncomfortable (or perhaps just embarrassed) during this exchange. It is as though he wants to say something and move on simultaneously.
Dale pauses. Continues mildly. "So, what did you buy for Christmas for our little Becky-Weckio? And what did it cost ya from Squire Usher? If ya spill for me, I'll tell ya a tale that'll give you some idea how things can work...with the Vamps and the Outties, but ya gotta swear ta keep what I tell ya under your hat. Let ya learn from my mistake."
"Ah. I missed Christmas due to some sort of time-slip, and I missed my birthday due to nearly dying onboard a boat (stupid boats!). My new lifestyle has been murder on my holidays."
Dale shrugs, and quietly. "welcome to tha club, doc"
After this pointless aside, he gets (closer) to the point. "I also missed, uh, Becky-Wecki's wedding (It won't shock you to learn that I was doing something stupid), so I call this more of a belated wedding present. I'm not sure if this is entirely my information to share, but it's probably okay, particularly since it might be relevant to the 'Fate of the World' and all that."
An encouraging nod from Dale at that information...
He thinks of the best way to explain, not quite sure what Dale already knows. "Auda and Rebecca formed some sort of mystical bond awhile back (maybe when Auda first became King of the Body?). Technically, she is Auda's 'Consort', kind of like Julian to Carl, I think.
A nod in understanding, and a quiet "yup" from Dale.
As I understand it, it was never a proper pairing. That is, she wasn't the 'true' Consort chosen by the Worldsoul, or whatever. Now, Rebecca has become married to Henrik, and the/a proper Consort for Auda has come to light. It seems that it'd be better for Rebecca and Henrik (and Auda, I suppose) if the bond between Auda and Rebecca was ... undone ..."
Dale's gaze is level, and he looks like he's thinking through the possibilities.
He considers again for a moment. "I don't really remember it very well, but I, apparently, explored a bunch of different options and ascertained that the 'best' way to break the bond was to make it so that it never actually happened ('breaking' the bond being too dangerous). I've been told that if you get three Elders together, they can create a 'miracle'."
Redland sighs. "Like many other things, I don't remember exactly what I agreed to when I struck the bargain with Roderick Usher. When I asked Carl about it later (he was with me when I made the deal), he indicated that I had already fulfilled my end of the bargain. He didn't seem to want to discuss it, so I let the matter drop. I figure he has his reasons for not wanting to tell me."
Dale looks a bit speculative at this idea...
"Anyhow, what I gained, was that he agreed to gather together the requisite three Elders for me, whenever I happened to get the go-ahead from the relevant parties. I'm still waiting on that, as it has been difficult getting ahold of Auda, and I was never able to fully motivate Rebecca or Henrik to go to Vienna to get the ball rolling. I've started to have some reservations about the whole thing. Namely, I wonder if they really want to break the bond."
An approving nod from Dale
A brief pause and then he adds seriously, "Anything you tell me that you don't want me to pass on, I will take to the grave."
Then he gives a wry look. "Well, knowing me, I'll probably actually just forget everything. Either way, I won't say anything to anybody..."
Dale chuckles. "About that, Doc....since you'r so big on avoiding booze and drugs because they change your mind... and your mind is waht really counts, maybe you wanna get cracking on that note-taking thing again. Do you really want to go through life with big gaping holes in your memory. Dontchathink that your memory is kinda they key to who your are...hard to learn from yer mistakes, when you don' got no idea what they are..."
Redland appears at first downcast and then mildly distressed as Dake speaks.
"Anyway, my story isn't Top Secret or nuthin'." When Dale continues, his voice is quiet, and his tone is somber and confessional, pained. He is looking off into the distance, pulling up memories that he'd rather stay buried. "The Fate of the World don' hang on it...it's jus'...personally embarasssin'. I know a nice Nightsider lady name of Molly. Done tha Communion-thing wid her a buncha times, but I was able to walk away every time before getting irreversibly tainted. Anyway, after the Treaty, when we started to work w/ the 'siders, we were flying in an airplane on our waysomewheres, and I got careless...I spoke a Name. Jus' once, in passing, a little thing of two syllables. Got It's attention. It sent a Servitor to mess wit' the plane. We crashed. Not a real bad crash, but it was daylight...by the time we could get Molly under covers, she'd been burned pretty bad. That kind of hurt even the 'siders don' heal up from." Dale looks up, his voice still quiet, but his tone intent, and his gaze intense, and leveled directly at Redlands. " So...ya gotta know that what your doin' has consequences...and when you screw up, it's not jus' you that pay the price...it's tha folk around you, too, Folk you care about. I do what I can to make it right, but I can never really make it right..." Gently "Walk careful, Doc."
"Ah. That's terrible. I'm sorry to hear that. I'll certainly try to be careful about using the name of, er, the guy associated with my watch. I wouldn't want anyone to come to harm."
An idea strikes Redland, suddenly. "Hey! You appear to know a lot about the Nightsiders. You wouldn't happen to know a woman by the name of Meridon Caine, would you?"
Dale looks a little impatient, but still fairly good-natured. "Nope Doc, it's not jus' that you gotta be careful mentioning the guy holding the other end of your leash...the real point I'm tryin' to get across is that you gotta be careful all the time, in all stuff you do, that deals wid' the occult. That, and even if you try real hard, it isn't always you that pays the price when you screw up. Your gonna learn how to do lots of stuff, if you don' go nuts or die first, an' you gotta have a healthy respect for how bad your gonna screw up, how bad it can get, and why you gotta build a team that can help you not screw up so much- cause if you work solo all the time, your gonna screw up more often. It's jus' human nature"
Switching gears, Dale continues with a little less emotion. "Meridon Caine. Sure. She's like Society's Executor, uh the Night..er, the Fae's Executor. Kinda like a referee and probate judge all rolled into on. Pretty sure she's not a Fae herself, but a real important part of what makes them roll. The Fae hold together 'cause of...think of 'em like markers...ya know, debts, obligations, agreements. Meridon keeps track of a lot of that. She knows where the bodies are buried..if there were bodies..." Thinks a moment. "That might be changing as Hannahlore gets more influence, and organizes the Fae more." He shrugs. "Hard to say. Anyway, can't say for sure, but I kinda remember she's got a connection with Hannibal King, the Night- ehr, Fae PI outta Chi-town...."
Redland makes a sudden decision. "You know, you're right. Even though I've been finding it uncomfortable of late trying to write things down, I really need to make the effort. I'm not going to get better without trying, and, as you say, with my memory being a blasted sieve, I need some way to know what's been happening in my life and to retain the things that people are trying to teach me."
Dale nods, with feeling.
He glances briefly around Dale's office. "Say, do you have anything handy?"
Dale says, "Sure Doc!", opens a desk drawer and pulls out a small spiral notebook (sorta pocket-sized), and hunts for a pencil, finding one almost immediately, and hands both over to Redlands.
Jack'll thanks him and, somewhat shakily, jots down a quick note about Hannibal King.
"I'm wondering about Ms. Caine, because I was, apparently, quite, er, enamored of her. I was spending a lot of time with her during the time frame that we're presuming the event that triggered my memory loss occurred. (Ugh, did that sentence make any sense?) I also lost almost all of my notes at that time. This is one of the main reasons why I'm so eager to get back to New York. I'm hoping she can help me recover what I've lost.
After a moment's work, Dale parses what you are saying, eyes widening ever so slightly, and smiles.
"However, it's been mentioned (a time or two) that I don't always have the best judgment. Also, Carl doesn't appear to think too highly of her. I was wondering if you knew her personally or knew anything that might help me make a good decision, once I do return to New York."
"Glad to see you're not the cold-blooded perfesser-type, Doc! I've talked to the lady...once, I think, maybe twice. Seemed nice enough, but she had her business face on. Maybe she eats puppies for breakfast, but I kinda doubt it. Seems like you oughtta get-reacquainted wid' her, and see how it goes. Oh, ya also might want to come clean wid' her that you've forgotten what happened, and that, well yer startin' over. Kinda hard to fake that stuff. Wouldn't hurt to find out what Carl says about her, but you gotta make your own decision- he's got his own history, and twitches. Also, the folk who know her best are tha ones in Society..what we call the Fae, now (and what I still call Ticks when I get excited or drunk), and they might be afraid to get on her bad side, since she's important to them. Then again, if she was too hard to deal wid, they wouldn't have put up wid' her for as long as they have." Mildly, "How do ya know that you were sweet on her...and was she sweet on you, ya think?"
Even though he can't really remember anything, Redland seems embarrassed.
"About coming clean, I totally agree. I've been thinking about writing her a note or calling her, but I'm just not sure ... In fact, I'm such an idiot, I apparently asked her out on a date via a letter. At least, according to Carl."
He hangs his head a bit shamefaced.
Dale chuckles, and shakes his head slowly, wryly.
"The reason I know that I was, uh, 'sweet on her', is that I asked Carl for advice about what to do, so he has some knowledge of the situation. He didn't know her too well, but I wouldn't be shocked if he advised me to be cautious. This would, of course, make me all the more likely to do something rash."
A nod at this unexpected revelation.
"What Carl recalls (and Julian would also know most of this), is that we went to see the opera 'The Bartered Bride' and then went out to dinner. Or at least, that is what we had planned. Carl had rented a vehicle and driver for me, so it would be easy enough to establish that this is what happened."
Dale nods, following along.
"After that, though, it's hard to say. Carl left the city, while I stayed there for an extra week, so we lost contact. When we met up again, nothing seemed amiss, but shortly thereafter, on the trip across the Atlantic, I fell ill and raving, with subsequent memory loss. It may be entirely natural, but if anything unnatural happened to me, it would have had to have been during that time, since Carl (or some other person with 'vision') has been with me at almost all other times."
A speculative look passes Dale's face, considering. "Has Carl, or Henrick taken a look at you, before an' since? Carl would see your...I guess livelyness and impact on Life in general...you potential for growth and change. Henrick would see your Power-structure. If either had been changed a lot, they'd see it...if it was big enough, an' they was sharp enough. Anyhow, it coulda been you made a deal and bargained away that memory...either before or after the fact. Or, it ain't unusual for ya to lose yer marbles when one of the Outties (or even the nastier Servitors) bumps into your reality..and one result of that that I've seen is that you lose memory of the ting. Yer mind jus' sorta blocks it out. Like it's too nasty to keep, Or too strange to soak in."
"Or...you being the big Tea-totaller, could you have gone on a bender?...not likely, I guess, but I remember from my early 'import/export' days that some of my best customers were the ones that seemed like they'd be the driest, and some of 'em drank like fish....Hey, have you been havin' headaches since then, Dizzyness spells? Blurred eyesight? That'd be om a good knock on the noggin, an that can make you lose yer memory."
"I don't think Henrik ever took a, er, look at me prior to the incident. He has only ascended to his powers fairly recently, and I'm not sure how much training he's received. Carl does what he can to assist him, but I would imagine that it would be more effective if he had the tutelage of Auda.
Dale snorts at the whole situation, and in particular at the prospect of Auda stepping into that role...
"Carl has definitely gazed at my internal structure since the accident. He probably had looked before, but how closely, I'm not sure. I'd imagine it's one of those things that seems obvious after the fact, but prior to that, he probably didn't have any particular interest in my Vitalics or whatnot. Regardless, he didn't detect anything particularly exciting.
A slow nod from Dale, considering...as he pulls out some notes in his pockets, and spreads them out on his desk.
"I think all of your ideas seem plausible, though, of course, that's part of the problem! With the extent of my memory damage, it seems odd that I'd've bargained away so much, but then, I don't have any particular idea of the memory-to-effect exchange rate.
"If general exposure to Outsiders could cause an issue, then that would be seem a reasonably likely thing to have happened. I have been seeking these guys out, to some extent, whereever I go.
A brief frown at that idea crosses Dales' face.
"I did mention to Carl, when I first lost my memories, that I had some recollection of being hit on the head. And I've definitely been having dizzy spells, headaches, and (occasional) blurred eyesight (which has contributed to my difficulty in focusing and taking notes). Maybe it's as simple as that. As long as I don't deteriorate any further, this would be acceptable...
Dales' eyes narrow, thinking, as you list your symptoms.
"I was also considering the possibility that someone 'stole' my memories. I don't really know that I have any enemies to speak of, so that seems somewhat implausible. On the other hand, I have been poking my nose into a lot of things, and I travel with people who (probably) have enemies."
"Anyhow, it strikes me that there are three or four ways I might look into recovering some portion of what occurred: talk to Meridon Caine, recover my lost notebooks, go to the library at Tibet and see if 'the world' noticed anything, or ask an Outsider who may be keeping track of my movements..."
A brief nod in agreement from Dale at this plan.
He ponders for a moment. "That is, of course, assuming that it is a good idea to recover them. It's possible that I wanted to forget what happened for some reason or that I made a deal involving forgetting, that I'd breach by trying to recover them."
Dale waits to speak, but you can tell he's got something on his mind. "Well, Doc, as far as I can see, we're kinda made up of our memories. If nuthin' else, it's hard to learn from your mistakes if you can't remember 'em. I'd guess that, from your symptoms, you coulda had a hell of a concussion. If that's what's what, then if you can avoid gettin' knocked on the noggin for awhile, you'll stop a lot of the troubles. Meanwhile, if you did bargain away your memories, they're gone. What you'd be doin' is to kinda, re-earn them. The scarifice is paid, and anything you learn now will be second hand goods- not the same as havin' lived 'em, so I wouldn't worry about that kinda thing. I kinda doubt no Outtie Kneebreaker is gonna come back and grab the knowledge outta yer head."
Redland nods. "That makes sense to me, and I (largely) agree with what you're saying about memories. I'd also say that ..."
There is an interruption, as one of Dale's workers pokes his head in the door and says something to Dale. Redland can't understand the language, but from how animated the fellow is, it seems pretty obvious that something has gone awry (possibly in the kitchen?) at the club.
Dale looks back at Redlands, with an annoyed (and apologetic) look on his face. "Sorry Doc, I gotta go deal wid some stuff...before Yuri & Svetlana manage to burn down the kitchen. Anyway, it looks like I'm gonna be able to come wid you guys on your trip...we should be able to talk more on the trip. Russian trains ain't so fast, and even the Tsar ain't been able to make the trains run on time. Yet." A brief smile, and he departs, following the employee.
