Nov. Bargain, Part the Fifth, Subpart E.
Jan. 13th, 2004 12:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
camwynWe're getting there. "Grandfather's Legacy" continues, and won't be much longer. I'm keeping the promise I asked King George to witness, even if it's only a paragraph or two a day!
Right now, however, I've done more than a paragraph. We're up to the next segment of the story. The previous part can be seen here.
"Perhaps." Sagara's hood folded out of sight. "Send for Samadarshi, Majesty. He will have the truth from this man."
That's not a good thing to hear, under any circumstances. Considering the sheer number of poisonous snakes around me, I couldn't see where anything good could arise out of that sentence. "If you think I'm going to let your people get any closer to me-"
"Be still, Preston," said Sagara. There was an odd sound to his voice. It took me a moment to realise that it was as close as a cobra could get to laughing. "You stand in no danger – yet."
"But if I don't tell you what you want to hear, this Samadarshi of yours is going to bite me, I take it."
"No." It was the Naga King this time. "Our ways are not those of England, Preston. We have borne this wound a very long time. We can bear it a while longer, if doing so gives us the truth." He glanced to the banded snakes assembled closest to his daughters, nodding once. "We do not punish those who have done no wrong."
"Then we agree on something, at least." Assuming, of course, that he was telling the truth. "And I'm not English."
The King arched one eyebrow, extending his spear towards the crowd. One of the banded snakes, hardly thicker than my thumb, coiled itself about the spear's butt and made its way up towards the King's hand. "No? Scottish, then, perhaps?"
I started to answer him, but the words froze for a moment as I realized what he'd said. I'd spoken to the preacher at Shettleston, and put in a request for Census information, but hadn't yet had an answer. Same name, same smell- why, that might mean-
"No," I said at last, as steadily as I could. "No, I'm not Scottish. Though. . . one of my ancestors was."
The sound that went up from the crowd all around us was as unnerving as any I've ever heard. It might've been a collective sigh of relief, or it might've been something altogether less pleasant. Either way, it wasn't anything comforting to hear. Still, the Naga King inclined his head to me. "I see," he said as the black and yellow snake twined itself about his spearhead. "Some distant ancestor of whom your family no longer speaks, perhaps?"
I shook my head. "My grandfather," I said, "the father of my father. He came across the sea to Canada after a venture of his failed, and he came from Scotland. He died when I was very young. Everything I know about him comes from my father."
The Naga King nodded. I might be wrong, but he looked pleased somehow, as if I'd given him something of what he was after. "And so it unfolds. . . Samadarshi?" The striped snake lifted its head, tongue flickering. "Speak to this man, and tell him of our people. Say to him what became of my son." The King lifted his eyes from the yellow-and-black snake to me, adding, "Men are skilled liars, or tellers of truth, but no man can keep the truth from his eyes when Samadarshi speaks."
I didn't say anything. It wasn't like I had much of a choice.
The snake on the King's spear stretched out towards me for a moment. I caught a glimpse of something red glimmering on its head as it spoke. "Hear me, foreigner," it said. "My name is Samadarshi, and the words I speak are true. I tell you now of the fate of the King's son, and of the one who put this fate upon him. Woe to the one responsible! For the King has sworn by his right arm that such a one will not leave his presence alive."
I glanced at the King for a moment, but his expression was neutral. Then Samadarshi resumed speaking.
"Many, many years ago," the banded snake said, "Kauravya, the son of King Sankhapala, set out to travel to a faraway country and claim for himself a bride. Though he traveled with the retinue of a Prince, his companions' presence weighed heavy upon him, and when night fell he slipped away to make his prayers alone. No one among the Nagas heard anything of the Prince Kauravya for many summers after, but the place where the Prince was last seen stank of magic."
Given that I was facing a forty-foot-long cobra, a half-snake, half-man specimen of Indian royalty, and an otherwise normal snake who spoke flawless English, I thought the comment about magic was a little rich. Then again, stranger things happen in Oz.
"It happened, one night, that a dream came to Ulupi, daughter of the king," the snake continued. The taller of the two princesses bowed her head. "She dreamed of her brother Kauravya, who spoke to her as one who calls from afar, and this is what he said to her:
"'I beg of you, my sister, heed my words. My time is brief, and our father the king must know what has befallen. I am trapped beyond the reach of all our people's power, through the actions of men.'"
There was an angry muttering quality to the hiss from the crowd, but it didn't go any further than that.
"Kauravya said, 'Hear me, Ulupi. On the day I set out to find my bride, a man who fancied himself a hero met a man who called himself an ascetic. It was a meeting of men only, and would have gone unnoticed, but the ascetic knew of our people. He offered the hero his aid in a mighty deed: the theft of a Naga's ruby.'"
Here he dipped his head towards me, and I saw that I had been right. In the center of his head, where I would have assumed there to be nothing but scales, he somehow wore a tiny ruby. The story stopped as he hissed, "To take the gem from the brow of a living Naga is no mean thing, Preston. It is through these gems that we call upon many powers. We may pass unseen among men if we choose, or call the rains, or bestow children on those we favour- or withhold them from those who have angered us. Even the words which I speak to you now are made acceptable to your ears by virtue of the stone."
He seemed to want some kind of response; I nodded, and he went on. "Kauravya was mighty among our people, but he was only one, and the men who sought to take from him his ruby were mighty after their own fashion. He spoke of this to Ulupi, and of the spells the ascetic had used to trap him. Trapped he was, O foreigner! For they had taken his stone from him, and bound him about with many spells, so that he must surely do whatever he who held the ruby commanded of him.
"'Where then may your ruby be found?' asked the daughter of Sankhapala, but Kauravya the prince only shook his head. 'O my sister,' said the prince, 'I have passed beyond the lands of our people, and beyond all reach of our kind. The gem was stolen from the hero even as he had stolen it from me. It has passed over many lands and many waters, and I have passed with it, though it was never my wish to do so.'
"The princess asked then, 'How is it you speak to me?'. And her brother said: 'He who holds the stone now is a man of great learning. He speaks the tongue of the people of Rajmahal, and other places besides; he knows of the ascetic's spells. He has bought the gem, and keeps it now among his treasures, so that I must give prosperity to his business and abundance to his wife and children. He has set on the gem another charm, so that he may order me as he likes even from afar. It is this charm, O my sister, which gives my words strength to reach you now- for I have a little power left, and for this time only I have wrested the charm from his control.'
"In that moment the prince Kauravya stretched forth his hand and touched his sister's forehead. 'Thus may my captor be known,' said he; 'this is the smell of him, and this the look of him. He dwells in a land I have only heard named as Scotland. And though he does not speak or write his name where I may hear, I have heard his servants call him by the name of Preston.'"
We were in India, and it was September, but I don't believe I've ever had such a cold feeling creep over me as I did at the banded snake's words.
Right now, however, I've done more than a paragraph. We're up to the next segment of the story. The previous part can be seen here.
"Perhaps." Sagara's hood folded out of sight. "Send for Samadarshi, Majesty. He will have the truth from this man."
That's not a good thing to hear, under any circumstances. Considering the sheer number of poisonous snakes around me, I couldn't see where anything good could arise out of that sentence. "If you think I'm going to let your people get any closer to me-"
"Be still, Preston," said Sagara. There was an odd sound to his voice. It took me a moment to realise that it was as close as a cobra could get to laughing. "You stand in no danger – yet."
"But if I don't tell you what you want to hear, this Samadarshi of yours is going to bite me, I take it."
"No." It was the Naga King this time. "Our ways are not those of England, Preston. We have borne this wound a very long time. We can bear it a while longer, if doing so gives us the truth." He glanced to the banded snakes assembled closest to his daughters, nodding once. "We do not punish those who have done no wrong."
"Then we agree on something, at least." Assuming, of course, that he was telling the truth. "And I'm not English."
The King arched one eyebrow, extending his spear towards the crowd. One of the banded snakes, hardly thicker than my thumb, coiled itself about the spear's butt and made its way up towards the King's hand. "No? Scottish, then, perhaps?"
I started to answer him, but the words froze for a moment as I realized what he'd said. I'd spoken to the preacher at Shettleston, and put in a request for Census information, but hadn't yet had an answer. Same name, same smell- why, that might mean-
"No," I said at last, as steadily as I could. "No, I'm not Scottish. Though. . . one of my ancestors was."
The sound that went up from the crowd all around us was as unnerving as any I've ever heard. It might've been a collective sigh of relief, or it might've been something altogether less pleasant. Either way, it wasn't anything comforting to hear. Still, the Naga King inclined his head to me. "I see," he said as the black and yellow snake twined itself about his spearhead. "Some distant ancestor of whom your family no longer speaks, perhaps?"
I shook my head. "My grandfather," I said, "the father of my father. He came across the sea to Canada after a venture of his failed, and he came from Scotland. He died when I was very young. Everything I know about him comes from my father."
The Naga King nodded. I might be wrong, but he looked pleased somehow, as if I'd given him something of what he was after. "And so it unfolds. . . Samadarshi?" The striped snake lifted its head, tongue flickering. "Speak to this man, and tell him of our people. Say to him what became of my son." The King lifted his eyes from the yellow-and-black snake to me, adding, "Men are skilled liars, or tellers of truth, but no man can keep the truth from his eyes when Samadarshi speaks."
I didn't say anything. It wasn't like I had much of a choice.
The snake on the King's spear stretched out towards me for a moment. I caught a glimpse of something red glimmering on its head as it spoke. "Hear me, foreigner," it said. "My name is Samadarshi, and the words I speak are true. I tell you now of the fate of the King's son, and of the one who put this fate upon him. Woe to the one responsible! For the King has sworn by his right arm that such a one will not leave his presence alive."
I glanced at the King for a moment, but his expression was neutral. Then Samadarshi resumed speaking.
"Many, many years ago," the banded snake said, "Kauravya, the son of King Sankhapala, set out to travel to a faraway country and claim for himself a bride. Though he traveled with the retinue of a Prince, his companions' presence weighed heavy upon him, and when night fell he slipped away to make his prayers alone. No one among the Nagas heard anything of the Prince Kauravya for many summers after, but the place where the Prince was last seen stank of magic."
Given that I was facing a forty-foot-long cobra, a half-snake, half-man specimen of Indian royalty, and an otherwise normal snake who spoke flawless English, I thought the comment about magic was a little rich. Then again, stranger things happen in Oz.
"It happened, one night, that a dream came to Ulupi, daughter of the king," the snake continued. The taller of the two princesses bowed her head. "She dreamed of her brother Kauravya, who spoke to her as one who calls from afar, and this is what he said to her:
"'I beg of you, my sister, heed my words. My time is brief, and our father the king must know what has befallen. I am trapped beyond the reach of all our people's power, through the actions of men.'"
There was an angry muttering quality to the hiss from the crowd, but it didn't go any further than that.
"Kauravya said, 'Hear me, Ulupi. On the day I set out to find my bride, a man who fancied himself a hero met a man who called himself an ascetic. It was a meeting of men only, and would have gone unnoticed, but the ascetic knew of our people. He offered the hero his aid in a mighty deed: the theft of a Naga's ruby.'"
Here he dipped his head towards me, and I saw that I had been right. In the center of his head, where I would have assumed there to be nothing but scales, he somehow wore a tiny ruby. The story stopped as he hissed, "To take the gem from the brow of a living Naga is no mean thing, Preston. It is through these gems that we call upon many powers. We may pass unseen among men if we choose, or call the rains, or bestow children on those we favour- or withhold them from those who have angered us. Even the words which I speak to you now are made acceptable to your ears by virtue of the stone."
He seemed to want some kind of response; I nodded, and he went on. "Kauravya was mighty among our people, but he was only one, and the men who sought to take from him his ruby were mighty after their own fashion. He spoke of this to Ulupi, and of the spells the ascetic had used to trap him. Trapped he was, O foreigner! For they had taken his stone from him, and bound him about with many spells, so that he must surely do whatever he who held the ruby commanded of him.
"'Where then may your ruby be found?' asked the daughter of Sankhapala, but Kauravya the prince only shook his head. 'O my sister,' said the prince, 'I have passed beyond the lands of our people, and beyond all reach of our kind. The gem was stolen from the hero even as he had stolen it from me. It has passed over many lands and many waters, and I have passed with it, though it was never my wish to do so.'
"The princess asked then, 'How is it you speak to me?'. And her brother said: 'He who holds the stone now is a man of great learning. He speaks the tongue of the people of Rajmahal, and other places besides; he knows of the ascetic's spells. He has bought the gem, and keeps it now among his treasures, so that I must give prosperity to his business and abundance to his wife and children. He has set on the gem another charm, so that he may order me as he likes even from afar. It is this charm, O my sister, which gives my words strength to reach you now- for I have a little power left, and for this time only I have wrested the charm from his control.'
"In that moment the prince Kauravya stretched forth his hand and touched his sister's forehead. 'Thus may my captor be known,' said he; 'this is the smell of him, and this the look of him. He dwells in a land I have only heard named as Scotland. And though he does not speak or write his name where I may hear, I have heard his servants call him by the name of Preston.'"
We were in India, and it was September, but I don't believe I've ever had such a cold feeling creep over me as I did at the banded snake's words.
