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Sep. 18th, 2007 10:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gone_byebyeSometimes the fact that the other Jedi (other than Atton Rand) kept mostly to themselves rubbed Ray a little bit the wrong way, but this wasn’t one of those times. Having your feet go out from under you during a training drone exercise, so that your tuchus hits the ground hard and the back of your head hits the ground even harder? Not a good impression to make on your erstwhile colleagues. Ray didn’t trust himself to sit up just yet. He’d seen stars. That was never good. He wasn’t even sure he trusted himself to open his eyes. “Okay,” he muttered, reaching up to feel for blood or fractures. “I think I need to work on my footwork. Remind me not to use that pattern again.”
“All right,” a stranger’s voice said amiably enough. Ray opened his eyes-
That was not the Milliways sky. For one thing, there were no clouds in it. For another, the temperature was far too warm, reminiscent of early summer. And the noises he was hearing were those of a park and distant people, not the territory behind the Bar.
“I’m a reasonable man,” Ray said after several moments’ silence, “so I know I’m not in Oz. I’m too old to get there without an invitation, for one thing. I think I’d like to know where I am, though. This isn’t Milliways, is it?”
“Never heard of Milliways,” said the same stranger’s voice, “but if those clothes of yours’re anything to go by, you’re a long way from Dal Zerba, friend.”
Ray rolled his head sideways as far as he dared. The speaker was a man of largely Asiatic features, a little paler-skinned than you might expect in someone Korean or Han Chinese. The texture of his hair was wavier than anything Ray usually saw with that set of facial features, which suggested a possibility of some Ainu in him. At least, it did until Ray saw what he was wearing: robes cut in a fashion that wouldn’t be far out of place in European courts of law a few centuries ago.
Huh boy.
“Dal Zerba,” Ray repeated carefully.
“Last place I saw anybody wearing robes like that,” the man said, “was down at the Exchange, and he was here from Dal Zerba.”
Ray was almost sure he ought to know that name, or that accent, but he couldn’t quite pin it down. Carefully, he tried to sit up-
“Ho there, friend, that can’t end well,” said the man, moving forward to ease Ray’s sudden bobbling. “Looks like you’ve got a real beauty of a lump there. Just how hard did you hit your head, anyway?”
“Harder than you can possibly imagine,” Ray muttered. He didn’t think hard enough to knock myself out of the end of the Universe would go over well.
“I can imagine a fair amount,” the man returned. “The College of Applied Alchemy’s across the way from my office. Not a day goes by that somebody doesn’t get thrown into the wall by an explosion.”
Alchemy? College? Well, that gave an idea of the local technological and scientific level , at least. “Sorry,” Ray said, a little louder. “I blew myself up this morning. This is something else.”
“Oh,” said the man. “Well, then, you ought to get yourself back to the College. Someone there should have something for that head of yours.”
“Right,” Ray said. “Can you point me in the direction of the College, please?”
“Over there,” said the man, waving one hand towards a cluster of buildings. “Follow the smell of chemicals. You can’t miss it.”
Before Ray could ask him to be a little more specific, the man gathered up his robes and went on his way. Ray blinked a few times, rubbed his head once more, and silently thanked the Force that he’d had enough sense to attach his ‘saber to his wrist with a long braided lanyard- and installed a dead-man’s switch in it for occasions like this. His head was throbbing enough. He didn’t really need a freshly cauterized thigh slice to go with it.
Wincing, he pushed himself to his feet and set out for the College of Applied Alchemy.
‘The smell of chemicals’ didn’t even begin to cover it. Whatever they were working on in there reeked to high heaven- and this was coming from a man who regularly had jobs in industrial New Jersey. He might not have minded quite so much if the people he asked for more specific directions didn’t all look his clothing over first with a vague air of amusement. Wherever Dal Zerba was, it was starting to sound like a serious hick town. By the time Ray reached the College proper, his head wasn’t just throbbing, it was starting to tighten up with a major tension headache as well.
That was probably why he almost ran into the little bearded fellow in a somewhat singed outfit- that, and the man was moving oddly, which Ray didn’t quite take into account. “Hey! Watch where you’re going,” said the man.
“Oop- I’m sorry, sir, I-“ Ray winced and touched the back of his head again. “I’m looking for someone to help me with a head injury.”
“Hmph. Well, you’ve come to the right place. I wouldn’t trust the medical faculty with the well-being of a chicken.” The man glanced at Ray’s clothes. “You know-“
“I am aware,” said Ray grimly, “that I’m a long way from Dal Zerba. Six different people have informed me of this fact today so far.”
“I was going to say that I’ve got a brew upstairs that usually takes the swelling down on my own impact injuries,” said the man mildly. “But since you bring it up, you really don’t look like you should even be wearing those clothes. You’re no more a Dal than I am an Angarak.”
. . . oh. Oh. This was Gara, then. Ray only knew of two universities on Gara, and this wasn’t the one in Tol Honeth, so it had to be the one in Melcene. All right, he could work with that.
“You’re the first person who’s had enough sense to spot that all day, sir,” Ray said with a rueful smile. He gave the man a closer look. Unlike most of the other scholars so far, he was dressed in sturdy, plain-looking fabric, the sort of thing that you’d expect was at least fire-resistant if not outright fireproof. He had a pointed, somewhat scraggly beard, and the slightly squinty look of someone who could probably do with eyeglasses if they’d only been invented yet. His stance was off-kilter, leaning a little to one side, but Ray figured that was probably due to the clubbed foot. “I’m not even supposed to be on this continent, frankly.”
“That sounds like a story I wouldn’t mind hearing,” the man said, “but you shouldn’t be standing around like this with your head in that condition. Come on, I’ll get you fixed up. What’s your name?”
“Raymond, but everybody calls me Ray. What’s yours?”
“Senji.”
“All right,” a stranger’s voice said amiably enough. Ray opened his eyes-
That was not the Milliways sky. For one thing, there were no clouds in it. For another, the temperature was far too warm, reminiscent of early summer. And the noises he was hearing were those of a park and distant people, not the territory behind the Bar.
“I’m a reasonable man,” Ray said after several moments’ silence, “so I know I’m not in Oz. I’m too old to get there without an invitation, for one thing. I think I’d like to know where I am, though. This isn’t Milliways, is it?”
“Never heard of Milliways,” said the same stranger’s voice, “but if those clothes of yours’re anything to go by, you’re a long way from Dal Zerba, friend.”
Ray rolled his head sideways as far as he dared. The speaker was a man of largely Asiatic features, a little paler-skinned than you might expect in someone Korean or Han Chinese. The texture of his hair was wavier than anything Ray usually saw with that set of facial features, which suggested a possibility of some Ainu in him. At least, it did until Ray saw what he was wearing: robes cut in a fashion that wouldn’t be far out of place in European courts of law a few centuries ago.
Huh boy.
“Dal Zerba,” Ray repeated carefully.
“Last place I saw anybody wearing robes like that,” the man said, “was down at the Exchange, and he was here from Dal Zerba.”
Ray was almost sure he ought to know that name, or that accent, but he couldn’t quite pin it down. Carefully, he tried to sit up-
“Ho there, friend, that can’t end well,” said the man, moving forward to ease Ray’s sudden bobbling. “Looks like you’ve got a real beauty of a lump there. Just how hard did you hit your head, anyway?”
“Harder than you can possibly imagine,” Ray muttered. He didn’t think hard enough to knock myself out of the end of the Universe would go over well.
“I can imagine a fair amount,” the man returned. “The College of Applied Alchemy’s across the way from my office. Not a day goes by that somebody doesn’t get thrown into the wall by an explosion.”
Alchemy? College? Well, that gave an idea of the local technological and scientific level , at least. “Sorry,” Ray said, a little louder. “I blew myself up this morning. This is something else.”
“Oh,” said the man. “Well, then, you ought to get yourself back to the College. Someone there should have something for that head of yours.”
“Right,” Ray said. “Can you point me in the direction of the College, please?”
“Over there,” said the man, waving one hand towards a cluster of buildings. “Follow the smell of chemicals. You can’t miss it.”
Before Ray could ask him to be a little more specific, the man gathered up his robes and went on his way. Ray blinked a few times, rubbed his head once more, and silently thanked the Force that he’d had enough sense to attach his ‘saber to his wrist with a long braided lanyard- and installed a dead-man’s switch in it for occasions like this. His head was throbbing enough. He didn’t really need a freshly cauterized thigh slice to go with it.
Wincing, he pushed himself to his feet and set out for the College of Applied Alchemy.
‘The smell of chemicals’ didn’t even begin to cover it. Whatever they were working on in there reeked to high heaven- and this was coming from a man who regularly had jobs in industrial New Jersey. He might not have minded quite so much if the people he asked for more specific directions didn’t all look his clothing over first with a vague air of amusement. Wherever Dal Zerba was, it was starting to sound like a serious hick town. By the time Ray reached the College proper, his head wasn’t just throbbing, it was starting to tighten up with a major tension headache as well.
That was probably why he almost ran into the little bearded fellow in a somewhat singed outfit- that, and the man was moving oddly, which Ray didn’t quite take into account. “Hey! Watch where you’re going,” said the man.
“Oop- I’m sorry, sir, I-“ Ray winced and touched the back of his head again. “I’m looking for someone to help me with a head injury.”
“Hmph. Well, you’ve come to the right place. I wouldn’t trust the medical faculty with the well-being of a chicken.” The man glanced at Ray’s clothes. “You know-“
“I am aware,” said Ray grimly, “that I’m a long way from Dal Zerba. Six different people have informed me of this fact today so far.”
“I was going to say that I’ve got a brew upstairs that usually takes the swelling down on my own impact injuries,” said the man mildly. “But since you bring it up, you really don’t look like you should even be wearing those clothes. You’re no more a Dal than I am an Angarak.”
. . . oh. Oh. This was Gara, then. Ray only knew of two universities on Gara, and this wasn’t the one in Tol Honeth, so it had to be the one in Melcene. All right, he could work with that.
“You’re the first person who’s had enough sense to spot that all day, sir,” Ray said with a rueful smile. He gave the man a closer look. Unlike most of the other scholars so far, he was dressed in sturdy, plain-looking fabric, the sort of thing that you’d expect was at least fire-resistant if not outright fireproof. He had a pointed, somewhat scraggly beard, and the slightly squinty look of someone who could probably do with eyeglasses if they’d only been invented yet. His stance was off-kilter, leaning a little to one side, but Ray figured that was probably due to the clubbed foot. “I’m not even supposed to be on this continent, frankly.”
“That sounds like a story I wouldn’t mind hearing,” the man said, “but you shouldn’t be standing around like this with your head in that condition. Come on, I’ll get you fixed up. What’s your name?”
“Raymond, but everybody calls me Ray. What’s yours?”
“Senji.”
