Challenger Campaign

Interlude          Conversations in Yemen

Davis & Qidan

[S: I think that the Party (despite the lessons of Yemen) is relying on Qidan to make most of the travel decisions. Well, it make sense. He's likely not to turn on us until he delivers us to his king, after all. So.. what was Qidan's decision about the best time to travel?]

Somewhere in Yemen
Dr. Davis asked Qidan, "How often have you snuck into Yemen?"
He shrugged. "The border between Yemen and Oman is not very clear. I grew up where both the sultan and the sherrif make claims."

Davis: "What routes have you used?"
He looked puzzled. "What do you mean route?" Realizing that he'd answered as best he could, she shrugged.

Davis: "How did you manage to get a position as a peasant at the Yemeni castle?" [I know: who looks at peasants? However -- other peasants look at peasants, and he was with another peasant.]
Qidan: "It is good work for a peasant in Yemen. If you bribe the right person you can get a good job."

Davis: "What information can you give us if one (or more) of us gets separated from the Party?"
Qidan: "Do not get separated. None of you can pass for long as someone from this part of the world."

Getting to Know You: Davis & Ava
Various campsites going east through Yemen.
Fires are kept very small, just for cooking, as little smoke as possible and quickly back to coals. It is chill out at the edge of the camp, but can be stood for a bit to talk before retreating under blankets in separate parts of the camp. Above the stars are solid diamonds in the blackness, except near the 3/4 moon where its light swamps the fainter stars.

Dr. Davis' addition to alcohol probably made her more talkative at camp during the escape from Yemen, as she would be trying to ignore and endure the symptoms of withdrawal. Luckily, Dr. Davis was interested in what makes Ava tick and there came a night when she could ask about his background. "From what I've heard, your father has traveled a lot -- has lived abroad a lot. I must guess," she smiled, "that that's how you acquired your knowledge of Arabia and ease with its language. Did you grow up mostly outside of Anglia?"

"Oh, yes," he smiled at her. "That is the life of the Foreign Service. Syria, India, other places. And when we weren't on station somewhere, we would vacation somewhere else." He laughed. "I do remember being startled, I spent a few years at St. James as preparation for Cambridge. My first year there, when there was snow on the ground, I wondered if the world were coming to an end. It seems my father had always chosen warm places for postings, snow was something you climbed up to the mountains to see. So, while the general convention is that travel is broadening, exposing the mind to different cultures and ways of life, one can 'travel' as well to Anglia."
"Father insisted on learning the local language at a posting. Though I think he gave up in India, there are far too many to learn. I know he has been studying Italian of late." His brief laugh settled into a smile as his eyes fixed on her. "But you must have been exposed to different wonders as well, the daughter of one of the more prominent druids of Anglia. You must have seen some amazing things."

Smiling Madeline bit her lip. "I never thought of Papa as prominent. Full of strange whims and brilliant poetry, always studying something.... He was most pleased when my elder sister Emily became a druid...," her voice trailed off for a moment, leaving unspoken the disappointment she herself had given by not taking that path. "We lived a very rural life. I nursed dogs and cats and squirrels and songbirds long before I knew it was possible to be a physician. But my -- step-mother set a wonderful table and, though infrequent, all sorts of strange and interesting people would dine with us over the course of the years. Mr. Campbell, Mr. Lyell, Mr. Owen, Miss Elizabeth Anderson, Mr Rassendyll, Mr. Morris, the Kingsleys, Brother West Wind, Sister Riversand. [Artists & scientists of the philosophical bent.] It wasn't until I was older that I realized how odd and, yes, free-thinking those conversations were. My step-mother would send me upstairs, but I used to hide on the stairs and listen in case someone would talk about the exotic places and strange things they had seen. And when I was older, it was Miss Anderson who wrote me an introduction to the University."
"Papa taught me some astronomy and some botany. I know herbs, of course. And that many star names are Arabic." her eyes twinkled at her erstwhile tutor, "But it's only due to these travels," she made an encompassing gesture, "that I've seen some of the amazing things that druids can do. And it was only on the last expedition that I came to learn why my father taught me so little of what a druid should know, while so evidently desiring that I become a druid." She smiled again and shook her head, "My growing up was nowhere as interesting as yours. Do you speak Syrian, Italian, Hindi and other languages too?"

"Our guide," he inclined his head toward Qidan across the camp, "would tell you that I speak Arabic with a Syrian accent, I imagine. My Hindi is pretty weak, as most of the time Dad was posted there I was in school in Anglia. One, two, three, hello friend, that sort of thing, is the best I can manage, I imagine. I learned a little French and German, could probably make myself understood there. Italian ... we were there for only a month on a vacation. It is enough like French that I could manage a bit there." He leaned back against a rock. "Have you ever been to Tuscany? That's where we were the last summer before I went off to University. The hills, gently rolling, dotted with stands of dark green olive trees. Neat vineyards covering half of each hill, and a warm to the air that made each morning a delight and each afternoon a lazy delight. And the food ... spectacular." He shrugged a bit in the dark evening. "Do you need another of these blankets? I think it will be another cold night."

Madeline smiled. "Thank you for your concern, but our -- condition has not yet disagreed with me. We were lucky that Qidan and the others have been able to obtain blankets enough for us all. But I've been a bit worried about Po and Mr. Blake; they do not seem to have the constitutions the rest of us are blessed with."

She went back on topic, "You do make Tuscany sound a beautiful place. The most I've yet seen of Europe is the Louvre; there've been no chances to just wander. Even Paris was seen under false pretences," she added with some regret. "Perhaps Mssr. Wuld Ali's daughter would never have been threatened by djinn and nisnasis, had we not been so enamoured of our role in saving the prince of Yemen. I pray that that was the only harm we did, and that one we righted not knowing our fault. But," she shook off the sadness of guilt, "I think the most spectacular sight I've yet seen traveling was the Niger River Falls. The play of rainbow over more water than seems possible in geography was -- heavenly. Have you seen such elsewhere?"

"I don't know if it was the most spectacular, exactly," he said after a moment. "But there was a small waterfall, maybe ten to twelve feet high, into a clear and perfectly round pool, near the excavation in Greece. A stone bench was there, worn into a curve that was comfortable to sit on by thousands of years of people sitting and contemplating the scene. The druids of the area said that no Old One lived there, though it was just the sort of place that should have one. It was of old an oracle, I was told. No matter what, I could feel its ... ancientness in a way that I've never felt anywhere else." He shook his head. "I don't know how to describe it."

Madeline nodded. "I know that feeling," she said softly. "There are places that seem part of time itself. And it seems that part of you would merge into that -- timelessness -- were you to stay there long enough." For a moment she was still. "Very different from this expedition, or, rather, adventure we are caught up in." She smiled, trying to soften the words, though they had been spoken softly.

Madeline: "Did you think adventuring would be more to your taste than Parliament or land management or ... or other studies?" [I'm not sure what of the normal duties of the nobility is "common knowledge"; in Victorian England the middle class noted nobles mostly when they made a stir in Parliament or in the gossip columns. :-) ]

"Well, I don't know about adventuring, per se," he said, the smile fading into a seriousness. "Quite often, Foreign Service is a family thing. I have good prospects for a career in the Service. More stations are being established throughout the world. Counsel, certainly, if not an Ambassadorship." A heartbeat's pause. "Are you interested in traveling?" he asked softly.

"Oh, yes," she said almost involuntarily. "When I was a child I wanted terribly to be out seeing the world, visiting exotic places, helping wonderful and interesting people and creatures. Too much interested in the outer world, too little of the inner, Papa used to say. Becoming a doctor was supposed to help that, I thought; I would see more of the inner person. But -- it was the person who always interested me, not the gods." She smiled somewhat wistfully, looking away, "Not all that long ago I thought that traveling to strange and exotic places with -- with someone I loved and being useful, no matter how hard the work there, would be the most wonderful life possible." Her smile became warmer and her eyes met his. "In this past year I've found that travel -- and being useful so doing -- is extremely interesting, at least. It has had its intense moments of -- of dread and excitement. But travel, with all its happenstance, is quite an introduction to all sorts of people. Small inconveniences as well as large dangers can reveal much about our characters."

He nodded but his eyes didn't leave hers. He seemed to be more than looking at her, and she was warm inside, her heart suddenly fast. "Yes," he agreed softly. "Character is shown in the dark and adversity. Not just in first class dance floors." There was another heartbeat that made her head swim. "I think you would always find a way to be useful, no matter how hard the work. No matter how strange and exotic the place you traveled to." Long gone feelings bubbled inside her, terrifying suddenly where once she had delighted in them. Quickly, she thought, change the subject.

"If I may ask, what was your favourite station in all your travels?"

For a moment she thought he was going to say something else. She could hear him take a half breath and the shifting crunch of the hard ground as he settled back, feigning relaxation. "Favorite station? Well, I don't remember well the places before Syria really. I think the most impressive place was the brief tour in Greece. It was only a few months, and it was so different than the places I'd been. The artwork was incredible, very different from the stylized forms of the Arab world. As an Anglian I found it much more accessible than the iconoclastic designs of Arabia, don't you find?"

Madeline blinked. "I -- think that the Arabic arabesque appeals very strongly to the scientist in me. It has a precision reminiscent of crystals under a microscope, and an intricacy like the web of a dried leaf or the momentary perfection of a snowflake. As an Anglian, I find the Greek art contradictory. The grandeur and, yes, human-ness of the sculptured form urges one on to," she hunted for the words, "something heroic. But -- its frankness," she blushed a little in the darkness, and pulled her wrap closer "-- would be rejected by many in 'polite society' if associated with a real human. Is that not true? Can we pretend to think like the ancient Greeks?"

[ This topic dead ends into discussion of the classic art work, held at a safe emotional distance. He'll quote some writings of someone else's analysis of Greek art, etc. Later conversations represents other nights.]

Madeline: "Is it possible that the king of Oman can be anything as bad as the rulers of Yemen certainly are?"

Ava: "Little is known of the Omani, really. I met briefly with Colonel Miles, the first to visit Oman for any substantial time. Standoffish, hard to know, he said. Their land grows enough for them to survive, there is little or nothing really that they need to import. Militarily no match for Anglia, of course. But stubborn and independent, we have learned from the Qatari and others. They would destroy wells to prevent an invader's advance, and while we could place a fort and control a port by force, it would be useless to have a place with no water." He seemed to think for a moment, and continued with a slight frown. "And there are those in the Foreign Service who think we have placed enough such forts."

"What do you think -- about such forts? Are there specific situations that cause you concern?" she asked.

[Presume the discussion wanders off to slightly nebulous discussions of politics safely in the third person, of no import to our story.]

Madeline: "How long does the Foreign Service keep one at a station?"

"It varies," he said with a slight shrug. "There are some people who settle into a country, stay as lower level functionaries. For the most part, people are moved after one to five years, with some famous exceptions. The Office does not set a fixed schedule, so that they can readjust and save face if someone makes a serious error. They need to be able to replace an ambassador or consul in order to change relations with a country, it is another of the bits of the 'language of state' that you have to learn. For example, a new consul who was a retired military man would send a significant message, without the need for words that could be used to someone else's advantage."

Madeline: "Then it is neither an advantage or a disadvantage in diplomatic circles to have been in the military? It is a matter of choosing the man most suited to the political needs of the post? Those in charge of the Foreign Office must surely be well-traveled themselves, in order to make such appointments. I never considered the matter before. How odd, to have so little awareness of how ones own government works. It is almost like discovering a new world."

Ava: "Not many of those who leave the military go into the Foreign Service, actually. Enough to have the experience to draw on, but most cannot switch...how to describe it? Their way of thinking? Their way of reviewing what they see? The military has its way to solve problems, the Foreign Service uses very different methods. And a very different language." He smiled. "It's not so much a new world, but a different race I believe. The language of State are words that do not mean what they mean in normal life." He nodded. "Medicine has its own language as well. Useful, no, required for doctors to work together. Yet from the outside does it not seem to be a different world, in your own back yard?"

Madeline answered, "I had not thought of it that way. Yes, one's training and one's profession do greatly affect how one sees the world, how one analyzes a situation and chooses a course of action. The different," she smiled, "languages of a profession seem odd to those outside the profession. But," she slipped into seriousness, "at times one might think the mind patterns those languages produce in their speakers can be even more at odds -- almost alien. The Foreign Service seems to understand that." She glanced at her companion with renewed respect.

He nodded. "You have to. It was part of what my father drilled into me as the importance of learning the language where you travel; it teaches you how they think. Learning Arabic, for example. Well, it is clear how they treat women for example. There are no terms for women of any importance, for example. The language of the place tells you a lot about the place and the people."

Madeline: "It seems, from what you've described, that -- as you've said -- a child raised in a Foreign Service family often finds himself suited to the Foreign Service. I am guessing, though, that it would be easier for such a child to choose a different profession, than it is sometimes for a child from a different type of career background whose parents want him to follow in their footsteps. Simply," she hastened to add, "because of this understanding that different views suit different environments. Do you think this is so? Or am I idealizing your Foreign Service?"

That brought a laugh from him. "Nobody, but nobody, idealizes the Foreign Service. Especially those in it. From any one vantage point in the Office it looks like everyone else is a complete fool." He settled in after the laugh. "I don't know. Some of those I have known have gone into Foreign Service, but it seems like there are one or two from different families who choose other paths. I would say there is the same number of disappointed fathers and mothers as you would find with any other family and career profession." He was quiet for a moment. "It is not the same with druids, I gather."

She shook her head. "No." She smiled ruefully and that crept into her voice. "Well, it may depend on the druids and the gods they talk to. My experience is more limited than you might imagine. But if a god tells you to break up your family and predicts horrors about your children, well, druids listen. The rest of us don't because we can't, and so it seems we ought to have more control over what we do or don't do." A note of irony may have coloured her tone as she went on, "Unless one has been taken over by a mesmerist or a djinn, it seems one really can't blame one's actions on anyone but ones own self, ones own knowledge -- or lack thereof, one own perceptions -- and blindnesses. Oneself." She looked at him and said softly, "I don't think 'the stars' made you jump to our defense; your noble character impelled you to it."

"However, I also know that not everyone sees life this way. Mr. Blake has talked of 'fate' in the past; Po, of 'karma.' You have seen more of the world than I, what does your experience tell you?"

More than a week had gone by since the Party had been captured and stripped of their baggage. In that time, the craving that Dr. Davis had never acknowledged for her "medicinal flask" had worn away her self-control. She was edgy, almost frantic, with silent need. There came a night when Madeline felt almost too restless to sit and have her usual gentle conversation with his lordship. The night felt oppressive and she constantly resisting thoughts of that particular steel flask in her medicine kit, counting the days since she'd last been able to "take her medicine." Fool, she berated herself. A doctor should not think of such -- indulgence -- as medicine. It demeaned the word. But the questioning darkness loomed much too close this night. She turned to Ava, anxious to fend off the darkness with other questions.

Madeline: "If one travels a lot, does one get homesick? I was surprised, a little, that when I moved to London I _did_ feel that way. But with work and lots of people to wonder about, it did pass. And I had traveled so very little at the time."

A short silence. "That is, I believe, why my father always traveled with his family. Wherever we were was home." He smiled again. "But I know what you mean. My first semester at St. James, yes, I definitely know what homesickness is. As you say, it did pass."

"Do you have a large family? Traveling in a group," she gestured again and smiled at him warmly, "certainly has advantages over being thrust alone into a strange place. I -- oh, um," she stuttered for a moment then recovered and swallowed. "I'm sorry. My own words brought back -- something I think I keep trying to hide from myself. I -- know less about my own family than I ought. And having said so much," her eyes dropped and she stopped. Then she looked up and the words spilled out, uncontrolled. "Your father is a wise man, I think. I met my mother for the first time in my memory, a white druid in an African jungle, a few months ago. Where she is now, I do not know; druids come and go with the land and the gods. She did, in some sense, give me the means to see a piece of art, different than Egypt's or Greece's, but grand and approachable in its own way: a crystal tortoise. But, being a druid matter, I think, it may only have been in my mind's eye. It is one of the amazing things you mentioned, but I know of no way to share it save, perhaps, through Po and a Mind Link. Most people do not welcome Mind Links, though, I think. Po has not asked for one almost this entire trip, although he felt it vital last expedition. You see, we had also discovered that I had a twin sister who, for mostly ill, sometimes masqueraded as me. I have wondered how very different things would have been if we, like your family, had been able to stay together through our lives."

He was quiet for a moment. "It must have been difficult for you," he said gently, invitation in his voice.

"I -- am sorry," she gulped. "That was uncalled for on my part. And I am very afraid that I am going to disgrace myself further by crying -- or talking too much. Which is not something you deserve, either. I am -- unconscionably over wrought. I can't seem to help it tonight. Not," she tried to smile, "the sort of behaviour people expect out of a doctor, is it? How do you cope when 'the world is too much with you?'"

He made a point of looking around. "I don't see any patients around. So it doesn't matter how the Doctor would behave. And I don't see you fainting like most women. You kept your head in the harem and escaped all on your own. I think the world may be a ... challenge for you, but I refuse to believe it is 'too much' for you. As for the world, look out there." He gestured out to the fields, black in the night, and the stars far above. "There is nothing there, nothing near. The fields, the houses, the rude huts, gone in the blackness. There is almost no world there." His voice grew quiet. "How easy it must have been for those who lived here to imagine there was nothing, nothing except a few glittering points of light unapproachably far away. There is no world to be too much with you, save the world in your mind, your memories."

Madeline gave a shaky little laugh. "I have been known to faint, though it is not a common thing with me. Rather embarrassing, in fact." She took a long breath and let it out. "You are right. Of course you are right. Are not the things that haunt most people within themselves? The words ill-said, the deeds badly done, the what-ifs and what-might-have-beens? The wound that causes the most damage is that one left to fester untreated, rather than washed out and cleanly stitched." A memory of him back in Sanaa thickened her voice, "I should not ask what you do with bad memories."

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