Misnakes

I told the kid flat-out, “I’m not doin’ it.”

“You promised,” he countered. Damn. Outlawyered by a six-year-old.

“So what if I promised? I’m a snake.” Checkmate. Or so I thought.

“You’re also my friend.”

Crap. “Well. That was MY misnake,” I said.

The kid couldn’t even do me the solid of laughing.

And I’m not a snake, of course. I just look like one. So my checkmate had been a bluff anyway.

“Alright,” I said, fresh out of stalls. “Let’s get this done.”

The kid gave one of his 90-watt smiles. “I’ll get you a mouse later,” he promised. I’d hold him to that, too; snake or no snake, a mouse was a mouse.

It’s not that what he was asking was hard. I’m good at what I do, and right now that was being a snake. I could swallow the ring. I could swallow a bracelet. Maybe even a small shoe. But even a normal ring was going to be uncomfortable, and the Ring of Alazraq was going to be really uncomfortable. Like, socially uncomfortable. Awkward, even.

We… used to date.

No, they weren’t a ring at the time. Like I’m not really snake, they’re not really a ring. Well, maybe they are, kind of… they’re bound to it, anyway, which is kind of like it’s their body, which I guess makes them… a ring. But they weren’t a ring when we were an item. You know how it is, running into an old flame after a couple of centuries.

On top of which… It’s my fault they’re a ring now.

Wow! It feels good to be able to finally admit that, you know? I went through decades of denial. Which I admit is probably not as bad as going through decades of being a ring. Which is also my excuse, such as it is. My mitigating factor.

But that’s not really the story I was telling. I was telling you about one of my more honorable moments: keeping my promise to the kid. And, yes, technically I was bound to do that, but I could have talked him out of it, if I’d tried, so, yes, 1 point of honor, thank you very much.

Now this might sound familiar. Hah. See what I did there? AS in, I’ve done it before, and I’m a…? Oh. Well.

Anyway, this might sound… cliche. Snake sent in to filch something by swallowing it. And that is a cliche, it goes all the way back to Gilgamesh, that one. (Gilgamesh was a forgery, by the way, but I digress.) But here’s the thing, I wasn’t filching, technically. The kid was no thief, and if anyone had excuse to be a thief, it was him; folks like him had been the underdogs in the place he lived for longer than I’d been a snake. But he wasn’t. Hell, he was a positive influence on me. In fact, probably the only reason I was being honorable at all was was that… I didn’t want to let him down.

Anyway, the ring. The ring was called the Ring of Alazraq, but that’s just the name of the magician who bound them to it (except that it’s not). Their name – that is my, um… friend’s name – is Sofal. (Which I really wished had turned out to be more appropriate.)

And she really did belong to the kid, by rights. Human rights, anyway. Yes, yes, I do use a lot of qualifiers, thanks for noticing. Why? Because I’m constantly having to navigate the bizarre customs of humans, so I hardly ever make absolute statements.

As I was saying, by human rights, the ring was his. His grandfather had gotten hold of it in, speaking of cliches, a poker game, years before the kid was a risqué notion in his parents’ minds. But the the year before the story begins, the original owner – the Loser, let’s call him – had passed on, and his heirs had been furious to learn that Sofal was gone. They tracked her down, found the owner, accused him of theft and, because the heirs, like most heirs to large fortunes, looked a lot more like the people in charge of the law than did the kid’s grandfather, they got him sent to prison and the ring back to their grubby hands.

So no, the kid was not a thief. By law maybe, but by rights no. And I know that a lot of humans would argue about that, but mostly those same humans would argue the opposite if the skin shades of those involved were reversed. You lot are a mess.

The kid would have probably gone thought his life none the wiser, knowing only that the grandfather he’d never met had been framed before he was born. But he’d had the arguable fortune of meeting me, and I ruined it.

I didn’t do it on purpose. We were just making conversation, feeling out the new familiar/friend bond. What? No, I’m not going to use the m-word. For one thing, the kid would never have considered himself that and for another, if you don’t like how I’m telling the story, buzz off.

So the kid’s telling me about his family, mentions that granddad is in the clink, so I said something like ”That’s rough.” Next thing, he says his dad told him it was a frame job and it over something called the “Ring of Raznak” and that set off an alarm, probably because, as I’ve said, I have some past history with it. I asked, all casual, “Do you mean maybe ‘Ring of Alazraq’?” and the kid shrugged and said, “Maybe.”

You people came up with the idea of Karma and, I don’t know, maybe that’s what you have, but for us it’s a whole lot more direct. Our mistakes come back in our face like you wouldn’t believe.

So I had him describe the ring, and he’d never seen it but he’d gotten a really detailed description from his old man. It was a big part of the family lore. And what he described was.. well, it was Sofal, alright.

So I told the kid about them. It. The ring, not that Sofal was in it. And certainly not how they’d come to be in it. But when I got to the bit about what she could do… The kid’s jaw set like no 6-year-old’s jaw ever should, and I could tell later that hat was the very moment he’d decided to spring Grandpa.

So that’s how I came to be slithering across the lawn of Weisant Manor at midnight, looking for a way in. I was kind of shocked when I didn’t find any defenses again types like me. I got paranoid, thinking they had to be hidden, I just wasn’t noticing them, but nope. I might as well have been an actual snake as far as the Weisants were concerned.

Not that getting in was easy. I was only about 5 feet long, which sounds big enough if you think of that as a height, but my height was 3 inches at my thickest point. The window was at least three feet up and, in case you never knew, snakes aren’t great jumpers. Part of the whole “no legs” feature.

There was a tree that could probably get me up to the roof, but what then? Go down the chimney? You know what chimneys are above, right?” Fireplaces, incinerators, that kind of thing.

I made a circuit around the manor house, and on the way I spotted a doghouse. That made me nervous, but it seemed empty. Yes. I could see straight inside, and it was empty. Did that mean there was an insomniac dog around? No way, I’d have been sniffed out by now. Still no sense tempting fate: if it was inside, I didn’t wan to being let out to pee while I was around.

On the other side of the house, I spotted the flagpoles sticking out under one of the windows. One held what I took for the family banner, the other a flag of that I think you call the Confederacy. But I didn’t care about the flags, just the poles. Yeah they’d do.

The tree had a rough trunk and, though there were no branches, many had been pruned, and not the best job of it, so plenty stuck out a fraction of an inch. More than enough for a snake to get a grip on.

Once I got into the branches proper, about twenty feet up, it was easy. I found that exactly two branched reached far enough toward the house to get me to the roof, they got mighty thin before they did. I got nervous as I, made my way out. The worry here wasn’t that the fall would kill me, it was that it wouldn’t. If I discorporated, I’d re-form back in the kid’s presence within a day. If I fell and, say, broke my spine – and a snake is mostly spine – I’d be stuck paralyzed until I was found. Which hopefully would be by the family dog or something else that would dispatch me, because I got found first by anyone or anything that could recognize what I am, there was no way it wouldn’t lead back to the kid. Or be pleasant for me, just to be clear.

As I got out there, the branch in fact bowed distressingly low… but that ended up just making it a shorter drop to the roof. I landed with a thud, but a tolerable thud. Whew.

Alright. No, to find those flags… other side of the house. There. One. Two. Now, which one? Confederacy or Weisant? I decided I’d rather face a family than a whole nation, so I eased myself down as far as I could, trying to get the flagpole as close to my middle as possible, then… I hesitated. It was the fall to the ground all over again if i missed, but I was pretty certain I could make this, so I gathered my courage and dropped. The flagpole knocked the wind out of me a little, because a snake’s lung (yeah, just one) goes a good ways through the body. But I wrapped myself securely around the pole, caught my breath and moved to the window.

The window was shut. Of course it was. It was Georgia, in the summer. Gotta keep the air conditioning in. And snakes can’t open windows. Part of the “no arms” feature.

But like I said, I’m not a snake, I just look like one. And glass is not a problem for me. See, glass is really just a mirror. You people think a mirror a special kind of glass, but it’s not, it’s just a kind that easier for you to use. Anything that casts a reflection is a mirror. And to me, a mirror is essentially a doorway to the next mirror.

Now, some things cast a distorted reflection, being bent or curved. Funhouse mirrors, say. Using those is… unpleasant. As in I’d rather crawl over lit coals than feel like I’m turning myself inside-out. But these were flat panes, and window panes are actually better than a standard human mirror for this purpose because they’re mirrors on both sides. It took me a moment to sync up my reflection with my real self, but once I did that, I was able to push through the glass like it was thick treacle. And no, I wasn’t really going through the glass. that would have left a hole. I was going into one mirror, and out the one on the other side.

And like that, I was inside Weisant Manor.

Before I could take my bearings, I was hit by the scent of Sofal, still familiar even after hundreds of years. Did that mean they could they smell me? Well, probably not, rings don’t have these neat forked tongues. (Seriously, Jacobson’s organ is one of the main perks of the form.) But I couldn’t know… and I didn’t know which way to hope.

Then I got the bearings. I was in a storage room of sorts, or maybe an unused guestroom. I found myself on an old wooden desk just inside the window, and around me were a number of dressers, a chifforobe, and a bed with file boxes stacked on it. Thicker than the smell of Sofal was the smell of dust.

I’d worried that I’d be locked in, but the house wasn’t well sealed on the inside, and there was almost an inch of space under the door that I’d be able to wriggle under by flattening my ribs. Before I tried, though, I stopped.

Another perk of the form: I had the vibration sense of a snake, even though I wasn’t deaf. And I felt… nothing. No footsteps, no thrum of music through the floorboards… nothing. “Sofal” means “good fortune”; maybe they were having an effect on things for me, and the Weisants were early sleepers. Hopefully their dog was too, or was shut into a room.

I slid, with some discomfort, under the door, and was in a carpeted hallway. The carpet was less comfortable to slither on but other than that, there was no great difference. Except that now, tasting the air, I had a direction for Sofal; down. I slithered down the carpeted stairs, to the second floor. More carpeting! If a snake could sneer, I’d have sneered; people don’t have enough appreciation for the beauty of polished hardwood.

But Sofal’s smell was stronger here. They were on this floor, not a doubt in my mind. The hall lined the walls, with an open central area above the first floor, and there were several doors along each wall. nothing to do but follow my tongue. I found myself creeping slowly, silently along the hall at first, then realized that I was being stupid; it’s not like I had watch my footsteps. I picked up the pace, just as silently, and found the door inside of thirty seconds.

This door, too, has a space under it. No smell of any ward, just Sofal, and maybe a few minor knickknacks. They mustn’t even have a magician in the family anymore; I started to think they probably didn’t know Sofal was anything more than a ring. Thankful for the laxity of whoever had build the house, I wriggled under the space.

It seemed I saw the flash against my lidless eye just as the alarm went off, but it was probably slightly before. Crap. So caught up in looking for mystical alarms, I blundered right into a laser beam. The barking started almost the moment the siren did. But there was nowhere else to go but continue under.

Human and canine footfalls were already thundering up the stares when I reached the other and found myself in a room of display cases. No time to do anything but hide. As lightninglike as I could manage, I slithered behind the heaviest looking case, a glass-fronted cabinet in the corner, and tried to think of a plan B.

The door burst open without anyone messing with a key or lock, and I saw under the case a pair of human feet, and two pairs of white canine paws. I snuck forward to get as good a look as possible without being seen; the dog wasn’t big, by dog standards, some kind of medium shorthair breed – bull terrier, maybe – but by my standards, it was a monster. I saw its snout as it sniffed the floor enthusiastically; it was pointed, It looked like my bull terrier guess had been right.

“There’s a spirit here.”

A shiver ran up my exceptionally long spine in a very short time, The words hadn’t come from the human. They’d come from the dog.

Damn it. That’s why there weren’t any wards. They didn’t need them, they had a guard dog familiar. Which was sniffing its way around every edge of the room, and was almost to my case.

Good fortune, Sofal, I thought. I need that good fortune now! Thank karma for pests in houses, that’s when I spotted a well-chewed hole in the wall. Could I fit through? The dog was shouting, “Here! It’s under here!” and scratching ineffectually at the floor under the case, and that settled it. At least if my head were though I wouldn’t see anything coming.

It was a squeeze. I got splinters. But, as the case was being pulled aside, I also got through. I was inside the wall just as the dog (which was not a dog any more than I’m a snake) was scratching at the hole. I decided to keep moving. I didn’t get far before I ran into the mouse who’d chewed the hole – or maybe its great-great-grandchild, who knew? Sorry, I thought as I cruised by. Love to eat you but no time!

I’d bet you’d never convince that mouse that that was the luckiest moment of its life.

I didn’t know where I was going, other than “away”. I got to a hole where an electric cable went through the floor, and I followed it down. Anything to get wherever the familiar wasn’t especially if it lost track of where I was

Then I started putting the pieces together, and then I started getting the heebee jeebees. And do you know how hard it is for an ageless spirit to get the heebee jeebees?

“Weisant,” the kid had said. But he’d also said “Ring of Raznak”, hadn’t he? No, not Weisant. Wieshund. White Hound.

See, some, familiars get bound to a person, like I did to the kid (in that case, more or less by accident). Others, like Sofal, are unfortunate enough to get bound to an object. But some… some are bound to a bloodline. A literal familiar.

Some familiars resent their binding. For others, it’s just another way to pass the time. But some… some take pride in it. Some like what they’re bound to. Crazy, in my view, but it happens. This one hadn’t sounded very deferential to the human. And it had to be older than the family name. If they’d been a generation or two without a magician… I wouldn’t be surprised if the familiar were the one in charge.

Enough. I had to figure out what to do. I could feel their footfalls through my belly wherever they went. First they went up to the third for, straight to the room I’d come in to. Followed my scent, no doubt. Then back down to the room, they’d found me in. Then to the first floor. The familiar was sniffing, but he had no idea where I was. For now, anyway. I don’t know what he was capable of. Maybe something more dangerous than passing though mirrors.

I felt safe for the moment, but no more. I needed a plan. I had to escape.

But… they knew that much, didn’t they? I heard them – mostly the familiar, which seemed to support my thoughts on who was calling the shots – talking about needing to find me before I got away.

So… what would they not expect me to do? Well, what would I not expect me to do?

I sure as anything wouldn’t expect me to go back to the one room they’d found me in. That’d just be foolish.

That’s what I told myself the whole way up the pipes to the second floor.

I didn’t know what I’d find when I got to the mousehole. They might have just blocked it up with steel wool, or a heavy board. But they hadn’t; if anything, the familiar had dug the hole a little bigger trying to get at me. But the case had been moved, so it would be an unprotected stretch coming out of the wall. But no one was there, and I knew where the alarm was. Well, One of them, anyway.

I squeezed through, and it was an easier process. No new splinters. I got under another case as quickly as possible. I wanted to catch my breath, but I didn’t know when they’d be back, and if he sniffed me here again, I’d never get another chance. In fact, i might never get another chance at anything; I couldn’t count on finding a second miraculous mousehole. I started to sniff around for her, half-focusing on the feeling of approaching footsteps. I followed my tongue up behind and onto the top of one of the dressers. When I realized where Sofal was being kept, I wanted to slam my head against the wall until it bled.

There they were, in the display case I’d originally hidden under. So close and I’d had to run.

It would take me a bit to phase through the glass, but then I realized that it was already open. the human must have opened it at some point to do an inventory count, and left without closing it. Maybe the familiar had called him away and he’d panicked. For some reason I liked the idea; maybe I liked thinking that someone else was more afraid of it than I was.

I didn’t let myself plan, I just slid down and over to the case, got inside. Sofal was on the top shelf, and it was easier than climbing the tree. But I was exposed the whole time.

I couldn’t help but hesitate, just in case there was one final defense, mystical or otherwise. But no, there was just Sofal. Heavy, gaudy, thickly engraved gold with an ostentatiously big lapis set in the center, but basically just ring-sized. I sniffed one last time, letting my tongue vibrate against them, before I took the ring between my jaws and started to swallow it.

Who?! came Sofal’s voice the moment I made contact. Yeah. This was the part I’d been dreading. You know, before I’d found more immediate things to dread.

Hey, I thought back as I continued to swallow. How’ve you been?

Semar?! Yeah. There’s no disguising yourself for us, when we speak through contact.

Yes, I said. I’m breaking you you out. The rind was past my throat now, on its way to my stomach. Time to go. I hit the floor slithering, and just in time; I don’t know whether it sensed something was up, or just got a hunch, but I felt the footsteps and man and dog coming up the stairs.

Where have you been?! Sofal demanded.

Lot of places, I responded as my head went through the hold. Look, I’m focusing on escaping right now, could we… And then the lump of the ring, about one third down my body hit the edge of the hole. Oh damn.

Was that a mental laugh? A scoff? Oh I know that ‘damn’. Sofal said. That’s the ‘damn’ I heard before I got put into this ring.

I surged every muscled I had to surge, and felt a few of them pop in ways that I hated thinking about, but I got the bulge through. But not quite in time; the familiar’s jaw’s snapped down and the pain shot through my spine to my brain, but and I thought for a second I was done… but he was too enthusiastic with the teeth, and bit straight through my tail. The rest of me shot through the opening and I was in the wall, and Sofal with me.

There was the mouse again, eyes wide enough to nearly drop out. Sorry, little guy I thought, no room, I just ate a friend. I got away as quick as I could, dropped to the first floor again… only I still had no way out. And it was worse; the familiar didn’t know my aura well enough to track me, but after decades he had to know Sofal’s, and right now that was the same thing. Well, my aura was surrounding theirs, so that might buy us a little time, but that was all. Fortunately, Sofal had been put bound to the ring for a reason. And given how we’d left things, that was going to be a delicate negotiation.

Sofal, I said, we need to get out of here.

We do? Sofal asked. Why is that? They sounded unimpressed with the urgency of the situation.

Because of we don’t that familiar is going to kill me and put you back on the shelf for the rest of ever!

That shelf has been my home for the last… well since before humans stopped using horses. Sofal said, sounding almost bored. But you’re right, he’ll kill you. And I suppose I don’t want that to happen.

Uh. Thanks. So, yeah, we need to–

So just give me back, Sofal said.

What? Okay, there had been flaws in my plan so far, but those were to be expected those. This one was not. I’m here to rescue you!

From what? Sofal asked. From this ring?

Well… no… I told you it was going to be awkward. Just from the house.

Why would you think I’d need that? I… didn’t have an answer. In a rescue, the rescu-ee is just happy to be rescued, right? Oh, no. Was I starting to think like a human?

Just bring me back, Sofal said. I’ll tell Caleb you’re an old friend, and you were just trying to help me. He won’t kill you.

Caleb?

Without having lungs, Sofal conveyed all the significance of a sigh. The familiar. The one shaped like a dog. I’ll explain it to him. He won’t kill you this time, I promise.

What are you, friends? I thought I was reacting with simple disbelief, but Sofal must have caught something worse, because the last of their nostalgic congeniality vanished. Yes. He’s my only friend, Semar. For… what it is? Has to be at least a century by now, that I’ve been here. A succession of humans have come and gone. The only one here for me has been Caleb. No one else. You least of all.

I… Oof. “Awkward” was an understatement. I can’t just leave you. Someone else needs you.

I felt the ring turn to ice in my gut. You didn’t come here to rescue me at all, did you? they said. I don’t know why I believed it. I must really have remembered you more fondly than you deserve.

It’s not like that! I argued. I only just found out you were here! Through him!

Through whom? Sofal asked, now with interest.

You rightful owner! I said, with “checkmate” in my voice.

Sofal was silent for just long enough to let me know I’d made a mistake. My… WHAT?

Oh.

Oh, damn.

I really had started thinking like a human.

Not your owner, I tried to clarify, the ring’s owner! But I’d already dug myself too deep to slither out.

When the thoughts came, they were a strange combination of scathing.… and empty. You came in here, to steal me from my home…. so that you to give me to a human. To turn me over to a master. Your master.

NO! I mean, okay, technically, but only technically! Look, the kid’s not a master, he’s a literal child! He’s a friend!

Again there was silence. I don’t know whether Sofal was gathering thoughts, or restraint.

Well it’s good that you have a friend again, Semar, they said at last.

Silent breaks seemed to be working for Sofal, so I decided to try taking a breather before saying anything more.

The kid didn’t send me here, Sofal. I’m the one who told him you were here, and what you could do. Because I needed to come back for you. I couldn’t leave it how… how I left it.

It’s still how you left it, Semar. It will be unless you can get me out of this ring. But that time was an accident. This time you tried to sell me out.

The kid needs to break his grandfather out of human prison. I said. He was put there for stealing you. Which he didn’t do.

How unjust, Semar, they said. Tell me, what is his prison like? Is he able to walk about in his cell? Is he able to speak? To scratch his nose? What a lovely prison that would be. I dream of such a sentence.

My list of justifications were burning up like a lit fuse. I don’t know why it shook me like it did. A snake should be used to not having a leg to stand on.

I’ll… I’ll bring you back here when we’re done, if you like, I said, knowing it was going nowhere. I’ll keep looking for a way to undo the binding. Like… like I should have been all along.

Oh, Semar, they said – and the thing is, they seemed genuinely sorry. I gave up those delusions long ago. My second century imprisoned, probably. I’d have told you that, if you’d been around. No. Leave me here.

I’m sorry, Sofal, I said. I started to regurgitate her. Snakes are good at that.

I’ll still talk to Caleb, they assured me as they came out of my mouth. We were cut off for a moment, when we broke contact, but I slid my tail through the center of the ring and they picked right up. He’s protective; he’s taken the form of a guard dog to heart over the generations. But he’s not cruel. He’ll release you. This time.

I’m grateful, Sofal, I said. I really am. You have no cause to show me that kind of consideration. But I’m afraid it won’t work.

They took a moment to process it. What?

Maybe you don’t remember what we’re like, when we serve someone willingly. When we take pride in it. He might let me live, but there’s no way he wouldn’t insist on finding out who sent me. And I can’t sell out the kid. I’ve done that enough for one life.

Semar, don’t be stupid, you won’t get ou– Realization hit, and the ring grew icy again. NO!

I’m very, very sorry, Sofa. I really wanted you to give your help. I slid more of my tail through the ring, until it was snug. Then, my stomach turning at what I was doing, I forced them to shift us into the borderlands, where the walls were still visible, but they weren’t there. More powerful than the mirror. Sofal was had always been more powerful than I was. That’s why they were so prized for the ring. They screamed their objection, started hurling invectives at me for my violation of them. I had to wear the ring to stay in the borderland, and I had to touch it to move it, so I heard their anger, their disgust, their hatred, the entire way back to the kid’s home.

And I listened. Because I deserved it. I’d done the thing we could never be forgiven for; I’d become n’draj. I’d knowingly enslaved one of my own kind. I was genuinely no better than a human.

Snakes can’t cry. I guess there was some dignity in that. Maybe.

When I got back to the kid’s place, before dawn, I made my way in. I’d said nothing to Sofal the entire trip, and I wasn’t about to start. There was nothing to day. I was n’draj; no apology would mean anything. I dropped the ring, and Sofal at last fell silent. To me, anyway; I’m sure they were still raging and sobbing at my violation of them.

When the kid got up, I said, “Got it.”

The kid looked at it, picked it up. “It’s pretty,” he said.

He couldn’t hear her. He had the knack but he was still a human; he’d need to know who he was trying to talk to, and I wasn’t about to give him their name or teach him how to ask for them. To him, it was just a ring, and would stay that way.

The rest of the story’s pretty by the numbers. There were no wards or mystic guardians at the low-level prison for petty thieves and bullies. It was in and out. Hardest part was finding the old man, but we were able to pick him out from the family photos.

Grandpa was pretty bewildered but after ten or fifteen years he wasn’t looking a gift snake in the mouth. We got him to the kid’s home before the morning alarm was up. The family was shocked, but Grandpa was a clever guy, and never mentioned me or the kid in his escape; made up a quick story about getting out on an outside labor exchange. The family put their heads together and found some cousins outside of town he could go stay with. Oh, after the hugs and tears and all that.

Grandpa left the ring with the kid. Once bitten twice shy, I guess. Fortunately, the kid had the sense not to keep his new toy around; she’s out away in a lead-lined box (my suggestion).

There’s nothing to connect my visit to the kid. The family has no known talent, and the incident with Grandpa was over a decade ago. Plus they didn’t live in the same part of town anymore. It was pretty safe, but the lead would be good insurance.

I don’t know what Sofal thinks about in there. I kind of wish it were nothing. But there’s nothing to be done about it. I don’t believe in justice, anyway.

If there were any, I’d be the one in the box.