Nov. Bargain, Part the Fifth, Subpart C.
Dec. 22nd, 2003 12:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
camwynAlso known as part three of "Grandfather's Legacy", or part three of "Sergeant Preston versus the Creepy Thing." Part two may be found here, for those of you who don't remember where we left off.
I won't lie; it took a few moments for me to realize what had happened. The fall had knocked the wind out of me. It wasn't until I had enough breath back to think straight that I realized something had gone wrong. There are parts of the Yukon where it doesn't snow until the second week of September, after all. It took me several minutes before I realized that Jackson's painting wasn't of one of those parts. Or before I realized just how warm the air around me was, and humid. Or, for that matter, how wrong it smelled. I don't quite know how to describe it, but it smelled . . . brown? Yes, I think that's about the right word. Brown, like fresh, warm soil and wet fallen leaves- and other things, for that matter. If I wasn't too mistaken, there was a smell of sheep on that sweltering wind, or possibly cattle.
As soon as I had identified the smell, I realized I was still lying on the ground where I'd fallen. I got my hands under me, propping myself up- and came face to face with the biggest snake I'd ever seen, a king cobra.
It stared at me, and I stared back. What else could I have done? We don't have snakes in the Yukon. Definitely not snakes as big around as a man's leg, or long enough to rear up their front ends and keep eye contact. It couldn't have been more than half a foot away from me. I might not know snakes, but I know striking distance when I see it.
"Prince?" I said softly, not taking my eyes off the snake for an instant. "Prince, old boy-"
The cobra hissed, flicking its tongue at me. My heart sank as I realized that I couldn't hear Prince anywhere. If he was back at the Tate-
I held up a hand a little, trying to ease myself into a position where I could back away smoothly. There's people in the North Country who say that you can talk your way out of bear trouble if you use the right tone of voice. I've never had to do that myself, but it's worked with dogs more often than I can count- even the ones with wolf blood. I very much doubted I could reach my gun before the snake could strike, and without Prince that meant I had no choice but to try words. "Sorry about that, big fellow," I said to the cobra. Its head bobbed a little; I couldn't tell if it was getting ready to strike or not. "I didn't mean to come here, and I don't want to cause any trouble. Just give me a moment, and I'll be out of your way."
Its head bobbed again, and I got my heels under me. For a moment I wondered if Mr. Otani ever had to use jiu-jutsu on a snake.
"What do you think you are doing here, English?"
It was the snake speaking.
Well. That changed things. Apparently I was back in- no. No, I couldn't be back in Oz, could I? Not if the animals used words like 'English'. I shook my head, holding out both hands to show them empty. "It was an accident," I said. "I was trying to get home and came this way by mistake-"
The snake hissed loudly, tongue flicking at me. "Liar. There are no English for many miles."
It occurred to me that the snake had an accent, even though it was speaking plain English. I don't mean the hissing way it had of pronouncing its esses, either. I mean it had a distinct accent, just like a human. I couldn't quite put my finger on it- but there were more important things to think about. "I'm sorry, but it's true." A thought occurred to me. "There was magic involved, and the magic went wrong."
I don't know how it managed to pull it off, but somehow the cobra contrived to look suspicious.
"Not mine," I said quickly. If this was Oz, and the snake knew the word 'English', then it had encountered the Prufrocks. "I'm a friend of Dorothy's-"
"I do not know this 'Dorothy'," said the snake. There was that accent again.
"Dorothy Gale, of Kansas- the princess?" It still looked suspicious. "This isn't Oz?"
Its hood flared briefly. "You are in Rajmahal, English," it snapped. "In the country of the Nagas."
Rajmahal- that was an Indian name. Well, that explained the accent, sure enough. "And a lovely country it is, too," I said, starting to ease myself up to my feet. "At least, what I've seen of it."
"We do not appreciate visitors," the snake said quietly, lifting more of itself up to match my height without any seeming effort. Great Scott, how long was that thing? Or was it simply getting bigger as it spoke?
"I'm sorry," I said carefully. "I never meant to come here."
Its head dipped briefly. I realized it was looking at my uniform. "So it would seem. But you did come. The king must be told."
"The king?" I asked. Was it a royal snake, I wondered? Or more like the royalty of Oz?
The cobra dipped its head again, nodding this time. "His Majesty, Sankhapala," it hissed. "I am Sagara, his minister."
Probably a snake, then. "Pleased to meet you, Sagara," I said as formally as I could. "I'm Sergeant Bill Preston-"
I've never seen anything move as fast as that snake did. "Preston?" it hissed, rearing up to nearly twice my height and flaring out its hood like some ancient shield. "Your name is Preston?"
I tried to back up a step- who wouldn't?- only to stumble over something. Sagara had gotten a coil around behind me. "Uh- yes! Is that a problem?"
Sagara hissed so viciously that I grabbed my revolver. "I knew I recognized your smell!" he said, bringing his head down to look me in the eye. "You dare to come here? You dare?"
I kept firm hold of my gun, but didn't draw it yet. "I don't know what you're talking about," I said steadily. "I've spent most of my life in Canada. I've never been to India."
Either Sagara was holding back the urge to strike, or he was trembling with rage. He stared at me, tongue flicking in and out like a metronome. I took very little comfort in the fact that he was by now big enough to make a reasonable target.
"I swear to you," I said, "on my honor as a Mountie-"
Sagara hissed again. "You were a fool to come here, Preston. An absolute fool."
"It was an accident," I repeated. "Believe me, I don't want to be here."
"Nevertheless," Sagara said, "you are here. The king must know. All the Nagas must." I could've been wrong, but for a moment it looked like he was smiling. "It is not often we get such a chance as this."
That didn't sound good.
I won't lie; it took a few moments for me to realize what had happened. The fall had knocked the wind out of me. It wasn't until I had enough breath back to think straight that I realized something had gone wrong. There are parts of the Yukon where it doesn't snow until the second week of September, after all. It took me several minutes before I realized that Jackson's painting wasn't of one of those parts. Or before I realized just how warm the air around me was, and humid. Or, for that matter, how wrong it smelled. I don't quite know how to describe it, but it smelled . . . brown? Yes, I think that's about the right word. Brown, like fresh, warm soil and wet fallen leaves- and other things, for that matter. If I wasn't too mistaken, there was a smell of sheep on that sweltering wind, or possibly cattle.
As soon as I had identified the smell, I realized I was still lying on the ground where I'd fallen. I got my hands under me, propping myself up- and came face to face with the biggest snake I'd ever seen, a king cobra.
It stared at me, and I stared back. What else could I have done? We don't have snakes in the Yukon. Definitely not snakes as big around as a man's leg, or long enough to rear up their front ends and keep eye contact. It couldn't have been more than half a foot away from me. I might not know snakes, but I know striking distance when I see it.
"Prince?" I said softly, not taking my eyes off the snake for an instant. "Prince, old boy-"
The cobra hissed, flicking its tongue at me. My heart sank as I realized that I couldn't hear Prince anywhere. If he was back at the Tate-
I held up a hand a little, trying to ease myself into a position where I could back away smoothly. There's people in the North Country who say that you can talk your way out of bear trouble if you use the right tone of voice. I've never had to do that myself, but it's worked with dogs more often than I can count- even the ones with wolf blood. I very much doubted I could reach my gun before the snake could strike, and without Prince that meant I had no choice but to try words. "Sorry about that, big fellow," I said to the cobra. Its head bobbed a little; I couldn't tell if it was getting ready to strike or not. "I didn't mean to come here, and I don't want to cause any trouble. Just give me a moment, and I'll be out of your way."
Its head bobbed again, and I got my heels under me. For a moment I wondered if Mr. Otani ever had to use jiu-jutsu on a snake.
"What do you think you are doing here, English?"
It was the snake speaking.
Well. That changed things. Apparently I was back in- no. No, I couldn't be back in Oz, could I? Not if the animals used words like 'English'. I shook my head, holding out both hands to show them empty. "It was an accident," I said. "I was trying to get home and came this way by mistake-"
The snake hissed loudly, tongue flicking at me. "Liar. There are no English for many miles."
It occurred to me that the snake had an accent, even though it was speaking plain English. I don't mean the hissing way it had of pronouncing its esses, either. I mean it had a distinct accent, just like a human. I couldn't quite put my finger on it- but there were more important things to think about. "I'm sorry, but it's true." A thought occurred to me. "There was magic involved, and the magic went wrong."
I don't know how it managed to pull it off, but somehow the cobra contrived to look suspicious.
"Not mine," I said quickly. If this was Oz, and the snake knew the word 'English', then it had encountered the Prufrocks. "I'm a friend of Dorothy's-"
"I do not know this 'Dorothy'," said the snake. There was that accent again.
"Dorothy Gale, of Kansas- the princess?" It still looked suspicious. "This isn't Oz?"
Its hood flared briefly. "You are in Rajmahal, English," it snapped. "In the country of the Nagas."
Rajmahal- that was an Indian name. Well, that explained the accent, sure enough. "And a lovely country it is, too," I said, starting to ease myself up to my feet. "At least, what I've seen of it."
"We do not appreciate visitors," the snake said quietly, lifting more of itself up to match my height without any seeming effort. Great Scott, how long was that thing? Or was it simply getting bigger as it spoke?
"I'm sorry," I said carefully. "I never meant to come here."
Its head dipped briefly. I realized it was looking at my uniform. "So it would seem. But you did come. The king must be told."
"The king?" I asked. Was it a royal snake, I wondered? Or more like the royalty of Oz?
The cobra dipped its head again, nodding this time. "His Majesty, Sankhapala," it hissed. "I am Sagara, his minister."
Probably a snake, then. "Pleased to meet you, Sagara," I said as formally as I could. "I'm Sergeant Bill Preston-"
I've never seen anything move as fast as that snake did. "Preston?" it hissed, rearing up to nearly twice my height and flaring out its hood like some ancient shield. "Your name is Preston?"
I tried to back up a step- who wouldn't?- only to stumble over something. Sagara had gotten a coil around behind me. "Uh- yes! Is that a problem?"
Sagara hissed so viciously that I grabbed my revolver. "I knew I recognized your smell!" he said, bringing his head down to look me in the eye. "You dare to come here? You dare?"
I kept firm hold of my gun, but didn't draw it yet. "I don't know what you're talking about," I said steadily. "I've spent most of my life in Canada. I've never been to India."
Either Sagara was holding back the urge to strike, or he was trembling with rage. He stared at me, tongue flicking in and out like a metronome. I took very little comfort in the fact that he was by now big enough to make a reasonable target.
"I swear to you," I said, "on my honor as a Mountie-"
Sagara hissed again. "You were a fool to come here, Preston. An absolute fool."
"It was an accident," I repeated. "Believe me, I don't want to be here."
"Nevertheless," Sagara said, "you are here. The king must know. All the Nagas must." I could've been wrong, but for a moment it looked like he was smiling. "It is not often we get such a chance as this."
That didn't sound good.
