From: kjc@aramis.rutgers.edu (Kelly J. Cooper)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [MG] Jameson through and out of [storm]
Keywords: all caught up now ... sorta
Date: 19 Apr 93 05:08:50 GMT


"If you add a teaspoon of wine to a barrel of sewage, you get sewage.
 If you add a teaspoon of sewage to a barrel of wine, you get sewage.
 This, my son, is entropy."

"In spite of the cost of living, it's still popular."
                                        -Kathleen Norris


     The storm passed for the group in Master Corder's basement with
little incident.  Master Corder had built it well, having included a
water feed and Danna Corder and her children had provisioned it
carefully.  Danna's mother awoke eventually, and Danna fed her careful
doses of herbs to relieve pain.  The young couple both awoke ill with
slight fever, but suffered little more than head-aches and coughing,
thanks to Danna's ministrations.  The babe sniffled as well, but
seemed otherwise healthy.

     The young woman, Jameson was soon told, was Corder's eldest niece
Kri and the man, her husband Chas.  They had with them their infant
son, called Benja after Master Corder himself.  Corder had found them
at Danna's mother's home, their own having collapsed.  When he'd
gotten there, the house was nearly shaking apart and Danna's mother,
whom everyone called Mum, had been trying to keep things together.
She had been buffetted by the loose debris the wind flung about, and
was nearly unconscious when Corder found her and carried her back.
She had turned down his first offer to take shelter with them,
preferring to stay in the home where she had raised her children.
Despite perhaps losing everything, she remained calm and was a very
peaceful woman.  She seemed to enjoy Jameson's company immensely.

     The only person who had not fared the storm well was Master
Corder himself.  He lay in a deep fever, tossing and moaning quietly.
The elder children took turns laying cold cloths on his forehead and
eyes while Danna mixed brew after brew of fever-breakers which she
gently forced him to swallow.  The storm seemed to go on forever, and
they all lost track of time.  Moments were measured by the tasks that
needed to be done.  Corder had built the basement expressly for this
kind of contingency, as well as storage, but the water had to be
hand-pumped and the toilet, crank-flushed only once an hour.  The
furnace had to be stoked and fed with cords of wood that needed to be
broken up.  Foods were prepared and the elders sometimes had to be
helped with their eating and taking care of themselves.  A number of
them refused to let Jameson touch them, so she kept herself to Mum,
while Danna and Kam helped the others.

     When they were tired, they took turns sleeping, making sure
someone stayed awake beside Corder throughout.  Jameson had little use
for sleep, but found that both Kam and Danna _needed_ a certain amount
of time for taking care of Corder.  It seemed to help them, so she
didn't interfere.  Instead, she spoke with Mum.

     "Silly fool."  She was leaning on her hand looking at Corder with
both worry and affection.  "Mind you, though, I'm a sillier one for
not movin' in th'first place.  Ah, we get so caught up in things, as
we get older.  Plates and 'wares, nice pictures and fine weaves.  Them
an' memories seem like all we have."  She smiled quietly at Jameson,
her eyes bright.  "You're lucky, child, to be young.  You can live
your life with little more than what you carry on your back."  She
poked a toe at Jameson's pack and shook her head.  Soft thick curls of
grey danced around her shoulders.  "Wait til you're old and boring."

     Jameson grinned broadly at her, "But Mum, you're not boring at
all."  

     Mum made a dismissive noise and clucked.  "Perhaps, perhaps.  And
perhaps you're not so young."  Then she chuckled and caught up one of
her grandchildren, who had come running by, and tickled her until she
was breathless.

		  *		*		*

     Jameson lay quietly in the dark.  There was almost no noise
coming in from above.  She wondered briefly what time of day or night
it could be, then listened more carefully.  She could hear, softly, a
woman crying.  Jameson stood and made her way around the sleepers each
on their mats and blankets upon the floor.  In the dim light of a
latern burning low, she saw Danna kneeling over her husband, tears
streaming down her cheeks.

     Jameson knelt beside Danna and said a soft prayer under her
breath, to whomever might be listening, then turned and caught Danna's
face in her hands.  The woman's sunken eyes could barely focus on
Jameson's, and she blinked slowly.  Jameson said, very softly, "sleep,
Danna, and be at peace."  The woman sank to the floor and Jameson
wrapped her in blankets, then shuffled to sit at Corder's head.  

     His head was especially hot to her cool hands and she gently
lifted it into her lap and began to speak ...

     "Benja Corder, listen to me very carefully.  I need for all of
Benja Corder to listen to me now.  We are going to overcome and absorb
our enemy and make its strength our own.  Benja Corder has a family
who loves him more than life and he cannot leave them.  It is not yet
his time.  Know this ..."

     Jameson's hands rested lightly on Corder's face and she began to
speak blood music, the song of that which is ourselves knowing and
unknowing, that which we feed and which feeds us.  It is not magic, it
is a different voice.  A different mind.  But it is neither voice nor
mind, it simply is.  It is blood.

     It is time, Jameson said to the blood of Benja Corder, it is
time.  Soon or the burning will destroy the body.  Soon or the burning
will destroy the mind and loose the soul first into sorrow, then into
freedom.  It is time.  Weave.  Build.  Grow.  Warm.  Surround.  Weave.
Engulf.  Take in.  Absorb.  Move.  Cool.  Weave.  Slip.  Cleanse.
Make.  Unmake.  Sing.  Weave.  Remember.  Flow.  Become.  Through.
Easy.  Gentle.  Weave.  Breathe.  Ease.  Heart's blood.  Heart's
blood.

     Heart's blood

     Hearts blood

     heartsblood

     heartsblood

     ...

     heartsblood

     ...

     heartsblood

     ...

     Very far away, Jameson heard someone scream.  It was not her, nor
was it Corder.  She filtered it out, concentrated on the rhythm of
Corder's heart.  Swimming, she was flowing and pounding.  Muscles
stretch and contract.  Blood makes noise.

     Kam, woken by the scream of one of the old Aunties, stared at
Jameson where she sat with Corder's head in her lap.  Both had their
eyes wide open and staring.  Both drew breath deeply and expelled at
exactly the same moment.  Muscles rippled across the bodies of each as
one.  Both breathed out, then stopped.  One heartbeat, two, three ...
ten pounded in his ears.  Still they didn't breathe.  Twenty of his
own heartbeats crashed against his ears when suddenly, as one, they
both took ragged gasps of air and Corder sat up, his hands going to
his head.  He was drenched in sweat and it occurred to Kam that his
fever had broken.  He noticed Jameson back away from Corder as his
wife grabbed and held him tightly.  The children stood awkwardly
before them until they were gathered into the arms of both their
parents and Corder laughed, and though his throat sounded raw, the
laugh was very much alive.  And Kam wondered for perhaps the
two-hundreth time what sort of person Jameson W. Walker might be...

		  *		*		*

     Jameson unbarred the door and walked slowly up stone steps into
the brightness that was a clear morning.  Looking around she saw the
ground littered with devastation and sorrow, but also hope and
rebuilding.  In a strange way, the city almost seemed cleaner, despite
the debris.  Scrubbed behind the ears, perhaps.

     She slung the pack over her shoulder.  She'd had enough of the
Corders' elders and wanted to let the Corder-youngers have a chance to
celebrate together.  Jameson was glad that their house had stood.  As
she began to walk away, headed for the Dragon's Inn, she heard a voice
calling and she turned to see Kam hurrying toward her.  Holding his
hand out, palm toward her, he almost stuttered several questions
before stopping and finally saying, very solemnly, "Thank you."

     Jameson grasped his hand and smiled, "You're welcome."  He looked
into her eyes for a long moment, searching for something.  Jameson
gently disengaged her hand and turned away.

     Before she'd taken three strides Kam called out, "You'll be back,
for more lessons, hey?  And your, what was it called?"

     She swung around, laughing.  "Bicycle, Kam.  Yes, I will most
certainly be back."

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Kelly J. Cooper         \     A-wop-ba-ba-loo-bap-whop-bam-boom
Tragically Hip Waif      \      Comments appreciated.
...individual at large... \       kjc@cs.rutgers.edu
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