Full Text for Gift of the Magin

What follows is the full text for the scenario "Gift of the Magin".

Like numerous pinpricks the tiny assailants swarm over William, zoom in, attack, fly off, regroup, plan, attack again. Simultaneously wanting to kill the tiny vermin and explore new territory, William finally resigns to fate and begins a scan. "Bijou country," William says, taking stock of the swampy environs. "High sulphur concentrations. Low tech society. Numerous..." Swat. "...lifeforms."

Its spindle thin arms clacking together in an agitated fury, the creature huddles in William's shadow, saying nothing. William reaches to touch the creature reassuringly on the head but suddenly draws back. "It may think I'm hostile," William says, studying the alien's bumpy cauliflower like head. "It uses this organ on its head to gather sunlight like a plant. I don't think that it will be able to speak to us, but maybe we can find another way to communicate with it."

Pawing at itself with seemingly impractical hands, the creature finds a stick, raises it ceremoniously, taps it once against its lumpy tri-lobed head. Instinctively searching for the object found only minutes ago, William follows the creature's ritual, raises the Imystyl, taps it once. Scratching a symbol in the dirt with the stick, the creature draws a picture of itself and of William, connects the two with a vivid line. "I think it just said hello," William says. "If this is how they communicate, we may be able to find some of their other messages in the dirt!"

After squinting at the message for several minutes, William is unable to make much out from the drawing. "Too many footprints through this. I can't make out what this was supposed to be. Probably a couple of weeks old at least."

"This is an island, I think," William says, staring at the stylized scribbling in the dirt. "Judging by its location in the drawing and the postures of the figures around it, I think that a fairly important person must live in the island house."

A distorted shape hanging from a representational line, the pictograph depicts some form of primitive trapping. "It may be a warning," William shrugs, "or it may just be a historical record."

The figures etched into the sand are fairly simplistic line drawings depicting the natives carrying out everyday activities.

"This set of symbols may be a creation myth," William says with excitement, indicating a series of stylized trees. "See how people are leaping out of the trees here? I've seen very similar paintings in India. Of course, it could just mean they build houses out of tree trunks..."

Shrieking with pain, William bends double as a trap bites bloodily through meat and into bone.

William works quickly and finally the steely trap mouth snaps open with a clang.

Waving its arms, the creature steps back a pace, makes a series of complex hand gestures. "Scanner's useless for something like this," William says, frustrated. "Must be SOME way we can communicate." Minutes pass as William tries to make out a meaning of the creature's hopping up and down, its wild gestures, its gas blowing tricks. Frantically the creature begins to run in circles. "Terrific," William mutters.

A stick figure. Using the Imystyl to indicate itself, the alien taps its chest. then continues to draw. An island house with a bridge. Again the alien indicates with his writing utensil, but this time points at the bridge behind him. Finishing his primitive artwork with unnecessary flourishes meant to indicate trees and houses, he shows William an animal with lines drawn through it. Picking up a wooden platter off the ground, he shoves it towards William. "He's a bridge keeper," William says. "I think he wants us to give him an animal before he will let anyone go across."

Arranging the dead animal on the platter, the alien steps out of the way to allow William to pass by.

Deft even by modern standards, the Henresian artist renders a quick picture in the dust. In grisly detail, the gangly creature sketches out a number of toothy looking traps and then a cluster of weedy grass. "I gather that the weeds are probably things we want to stay out of," William guesses. "Apparently the alien is saying that there are traps hidden in the weeds."

Patiently William waits for the alien to finish its drawing task. It seems uncertain of what it wishes to say as it rapidly begins a drawing, erases it, starts again, pauses to think. A hollowed out cylinder finally takes form in the dirt as the alien dashes it out with broad strokes. "A log?" William says. "I don't understand. What.." Emphatically the alien stabs his picture with his Imystyl and then draws a house on an island. He connects the two drawings with a line. "Take a log to the house on the island?" William asks.

It's them! They kidnapped the princess. Kill them!

"It's an arrow," William says, looking at the marker. "Pointing north"

The arrow etched in the dirt clearly points east.

Batting at a troublesome alien gnat, William examines the markings carefully. "It's a directional pointer," William says. "Pointing south"

"Animal trap," William says, looking closer at the clever construction of the mound. "They place a thin mat over it and whatever walks over... Click. Down you go." In the depths of the hole, green scales glint from filtered light as a hideous growl floats from below. "Whatever they caught, it sounds big and angry. Think we should free it before it dies?”

"Animal trap," William says, looking closer at the clever construction of the mound. "They place a thin mat over it and whatever walks over... Click. Down you go." Teeth gnash together inches from William's face as something brown and furry hurls itself up the wall of its enclosure. "I don't think it's pleased about being someone's dinner," William says, scared but not angry with the trapped creature. "Maybe we should let the thing out."

"So I am found," the creature says solemnly, his figure outlined in the phosphorescence of the chamber. "I surmised that the Magin would eventually call in Offworlders. My mother is above all resourceful." Apparently sensing William's surprise, the creature explains. "You are surprised that she would send hunters after her own offspring? I am a throwback, a mutation, a deviation that must be corrected. Surely you have seen the same thing in your own race from time to time.  I am tired of bargaining for my life, however. My people will do anything to kill me. Will you?"

Expelling a foul odor from vents below his eyes, the alien slumps visibly, the last of his proud spirit drained from him. "So even among outsiders I am to be outcast," the alien then says in a whisper. "Outcast first by my own people, then by those on Talitha IV. It is as it has been since my youth, since those foolish days when I stole the Talking Stick and placed it in the lair of the BladderClaw.

"Then I owe you my thanks," the creature says. "And though I am in your debt I would ask one favor. On Talitha is a princess, Jhenna. She is about to wed, but I fear that someone in this sector has designs on her life. Her death would destroy an important political keystone in this sector and several other worlds would fall in its wake. I ask this because she...that is to say.. that we...It...It is difficult to explain." Love always is, William thinks.

"You have freed Jhenna," He Who Speaks says, nodding. "This item has special meaning to the two of us. This changes a number of things." Onions, William suddenly thinks, smelling an acrid scent... "I stole a relic when I was young. I stole it because I saw how much they cared for it and how little they cared for me. I placed it in the Lair of the BladderClaw. Now it is time to heal wounds. Take the Talking Stick back to the Magin. It will mean much to her, more even than my death.

Bowing in response to William's greeting, the creature kneels and scribbles in the dirt with a stick. "I am She Whose Steps Are Wise?" William says uncertainly, reading the scanners translation. "Other worlds call me the Magin." William infers rapidly that the name is a title and tries to look intimidated. The Magin continues to dig symbols into the dirt. "I must assume that you are sent from Algieba," she writes. "Many messengers have been sent. I do not know whom to trust. I only know that my own world is threatened by He Who Speaks who lives on the other bank of the river. He sets traps to snare us all. Kill him and I may perhaps know that I can trust you.

Becoming used to the ritual, William drops by the Magin's side, watches as she scrawls out her message. "It occurred to me after you left to tell you that you would do well to stay close to the water. He Who Speaks has set a number of traps but he can't stand water so he stays away from it. Also look for our hunter's directional arrows in the dirt."

Racked with shudders, the Magin takes the Talking Stick reverently from William's hands. Stroking it with her pared hands, she seems completely absorbed with the object. "I know that I may trust you," the Magin writes, setting the Talking Stick aside. "This relic means much. It will heal many old wounds and I shall be too occupied to deal with the Algiebian issue. I wish instead to send you as my envoy of honor. Please accept this invitation which I declined. Perhaps you may do some good there yourself."

Unsure of the wisdom of setting the creature free, William reaches into the darkness and tries to touch the animal. Fingers. Clasping the free hand, the Algiebian curses as he tumbles into the light. "Cursssse their trapsssss," the Algiebian ambassador says, his face smattered with mud and blood. Tufts of grass hang like whiskers from the chinks of his scaled body. "I come to sssseee the Magin, sssshe refusssesss to sssee me and then I fall into an acurssssed hole. I thank you for your assistance. This may help you in your travelssss here." Tossing a leaden bar on the ground he bares a double row of razor sharp teeth.

"Something the scanner can read," William mumbles gratefully, drawing it across the alien characters scrawled in the dirt. "It seems to be a warning about a someone called He Who Speaks. It says that he stole something called the Talking Stick."