Chapter 6

It had been the talks about Light-based physiology and medicine that had brought me to Dust in the first place. Not immediately, but eventually, as a consequence of my desire to understand how those who lived in the Light could heal, and how far that healing could be taken. It held out some promise as an answer to one of the potential problems I saw with carrying out my plans, and it tied in also with my sense of what I would need as accompaniment to expanding my abilities as a shape-shifter.

I was become more fluid and facile with my transformations. I could shift from form to form in less than the blink of an eye. I still hadn't found what I was looking for though, and I was beginning to think I was going to have to look outside myself for that answer. I built a quick list of possibilities and set myself a schedule for exploring them. The first item on my list was a visit to Constantine Fylakas, the artificial man who had been the sentinel intelligence left behind to await the rebirth of the Guardians on Earth. That rebirth had come in the person of my Great Great Grandfather Dave McKesson. If an inherent understanding and appreciation for the Light and its potential was the key I sought, 'Uncle Con' was a likely source.

"Skye, I would love to help you, but what I understand of the Light isn't something I can teach, and in any case, as you describe it to me, your use of it for this shape-shifting is well beyond what I understand the Light to be capable of."

"I was afraid you might say that Uncle Con," I agreed. "Shape-shifting draws on many things, the Light only being one of them. Still, every McKesson knows to value your insights. What would you recommend I do?"

"What everyone does, here on Obsidian when they hope to set foot on the path to new understanding." Uncle Con opened his mouth as if to say more, but hesitated, waiting for me to answer my own question.

"Of course," I continued for him after a moments thought. "I need to make a trip to the Garden of Knowledge."

I slipped through the shield wall guarding the Garden and into the cool calmness that resided there. I saw a few people sitting at benches here and there, usually alone and lost in thought, but occasionally in groups.

I walked up to the edge of the paving stones and looked up - a Teacher stood there, soft robes draped over him. With a wise and kindly voice, he greeted me.

"Welcome Skye McKesson. How may I be of service today?"

"Hello Teacher," I answered, smiling. It was difficult to see the wise figure before me as an artificial construct, even knowing that they had been designed to engender exactly the feelings of trust that I was feeling. "I seek a path that I am not sure you can help me find."

"We all find our own paths in life and in all things," He said, motioning down the path in front of us. "Walk with me a while and we can talk."

We walked down a path of soft earth bordered by worn, smooth stones until we were walking alongside a smooth, slow flowing stream.

"I like this place," I said as the peacefulness sank into me.

"Are there many places you have come to like?"

"Sure. Every place has something that makes it worth going to, I think."

"So you wish to travel to many different places?"

"Exactly." I sighed.

"The path you seek is unknown to you, but you have sensed its existence?"

"Since I was very young. But even within the family I haven't found anyone who knows what I need to know. Nor anyone who understands my need."

"Are you a McKesson?" The teacher stopped walking then and turned to face me.

"Yes, of course!" I answered as calmly as I could. What the hell kind of question was that?

"Are you a Guardian?"

"No. Not yet. I could be. But the path I feel is there for me is a different one."

"Are you different then?" the Teacher asked as we began walking again.

"Different?" in a family full of startlingly unique individuals, how do you measure differences? "I am another of a generation of McKessons. We live by our differences."

"So Sky McKesson is not just different from men, but different in a larger sense?"

"Maybe not different, beyond the obvious differences I mean, but destined for different things."

"Destined?"

"Destiny plays games with my family, Teacher. My father, my grandfather and my great-grandfather have all been touched by destiny, as has my mother and grandmother. I would not be the first McKesson to have fate reach out and touch me."

"You speak of differences and generations and fate," Teacher once again stopped to speak. "I cannot know your path. Such things are beyond me. I can only suggest that your search for differences must begin with the familiar. You have made a good beginning by exploring the Light and some of the path that your grandfather found before you."

"So I should keep exploring those things, and looking for the differences?"

"If that seems a wise path, then you should take it." Teacher answered with a non-committal air.

We stood again at the border of the Garden and I thought us done, but the Teacher remained, looking at me.

"What?" I asked.

"What do you call this future self you think you will become?" Teacher asked. "If not Guardian, then what?"

"A walker," I answered. "My future self will be a Walker between the Worlds."

"Walker." Teacher said with a mysterious smile. "It seems you have heard that phrase somewhere before."

And with that the Teacher was gone.

The winter season in Angels Camp is very different than what I grew up with on Arbor. At least I had the family Thanksgivings as a touchstone. Halloween was fun, even if it was a bit overblown. I avoided the majority of the festivities associated with it, though I did borrow a set of armor from the Guardians of the Valley of the Wind back home to wear on costume day at school. It was nicely form-fitting, but not in a lascivious way. I got called 'Xena' a lot, but wasn't sure if they referred to the recent holovid mini-series or the original television series from back in the twentieth century. I had to think it was the mini-series, because of the hair color. Ben and I actually matched sort of, as he was wearing a Roman charioteer costume and called himself Ben Hur. I referred to him several times during the course of the day as Judah, but only a few people got it. You could tell who had read the book or seen one of the movies made of it.

Teddy wore a full blown tux with white tie and tails. Top hat, cane, cummerbund and gloves, the whole works.

"If you'd only shelled out a little more for a monocle I could call you Mr. Peanut," I teased her. I drew a blank, once again proving that I read too much outside of my own generation. At least as far as my peers are concerned.