“She has her mother’s beautiful eyes,” he said, and Ellie giggled. She liked attention. A lot.
“Newet watch over her,” Danyel said piously. It was considered a bad idea to compliment a young child too much, lest demons take notice. No doubt this was a relic of a more real danger — the need of the Goa’uld for healthy and attractive hosts.
“As you say,” Hor-Aha said. His eyes twinkled. “Never have I seen such an ugly and misshapen child!”
Ellie giggled again.
Jack shifted from foot to foot. “We’ve got a problem here.”
“And you wish me to get to business,” Pharaoh said. “Not dote upon your daughter. Very well.” He turned from Danyel with a smile. “What is your problem?”
They outlined it in broad strokes, stressing how much Teal’c had done for Egypt and for Pharaoh’s father, how surely the rebellion against Ra would have failed if not for Teal’c. All of it was true. There was no denying that Teal’c had done more than the rest of them, that his help had been the thing that was essential. Without a leader among the Jaffa, the Jaffa would surely have rallied to Ra’s cause en masse.
Hor-Aha heard them out, but Danyel wasn’t surprised when at last he shook his head, forestalling Danyel’s next speech. “I know all that Teal’c has done,” he said gravely. “If any man were deserving of my consideration, it is he. But why does he not come with you today to plead this case in person?”
It was Jack who answered. “Teal’c doesn’t think he should,” he said.
“And why is that?” Hor-Aha’s eyes moved to Jack.
Sam took a deep breath. “Teal’c is concerned about opening the Stargate.”
“As well he should be,” Hor-Aha said. He shook his head again. “Sa-Mantha, you know that I have great respect for Teal’c, and if there were anything that I might do as a man to ease his plight, I would. But I cannot risk the safety of my people. Surely you understand that. We have remained safe these last three years because the Stargate has been buried. If we were to unbury it for several days, use it to send a scouting party forth into Ra’s realm…” He spread his hands regretfully. “We would court the displeasure of those false gods who enslaved us for so long. I cannot agree to this. Much as I regret Teal’c’s fate, I cannot risk the future of my people for the good of one man. You know as well as I that if the Stargate were unburied there would be nothing to prevent Ra from using it to our ruin. Unless there is some way you may prevent this?”
“Not that I know of,” Sam said, her eyes on his. “I mean, I do know of ways to prevent the gate from being used, but nothing that we can build here with the materials we have.”
“Then I must refuse,” Hor-Aha said.
“But,” Danyel began.
“Unless you can show me a way it poses no danger to my people, I must refuse,” Hor-Aha said. “Surely you understand that, O’Neill?”
Jack swallowed. “I do,” he said.
“Please convey to Teal’c my deep respect, and that whenever his time comes he will receive the greatest honors I can bestow,” Pharaoh said. “For he dies in the service of my people as surely as if he were struck down by a staff weapon.”
“I’ll tell him,” Jack said. “Come on, kids. Let’s go home.”
Aset held the taper as though she were a priestess, carrying the flame from lamp to lamp. Teal’c watched the pleated linen of her shift move against her skin, outlining for a moment the curves of breast and hip, then concealing them again. Her hair fell in a thousand tiny braids, woven with gold and faience beads. He had bargained for the beads in the market after their victory, and counted himself well-rewarded by her smile; he had watched her with the hairdressers, sitting in the shade while the women worked, and a patient youth fanned them, raising a breeze in the still air. He had not realized then that she reminded him of Shau’nac — and perhaps there was no real resemblance, except in grace and courage.
She lit the last lamp, leaving him in the center of concentric rings of flame, and ground out the taper in the dirt of the floor. “My Teal’s in his temple,” she said with a smile, and Teal’c winced.
“I am no god, Aset,” he said, and she stooped to kiss his cheek.
“Only to me,” she said, in his ear, and straightened, fixing Danyel with a reproving stare. He sat just outside the rings of light, unusually quiet, what was left of the Tau’ri’s first aid kit resting by his knee.
“You will protect him, Danyel,” she said, and he looked away.
“I’ll do the best I can, I promise.”
She was poised to say more, to demand more, but Teal’c caught her hand. “We must begin,” he said, and kissed her palm.
Her breath caught, but she nodded. “I will go.” She gathered her skirt close and passed through the ring of lamps. The door closed solidly behind her.
Teal’c waited, resting his hands on his knees, letting the silence build, but the first stages of kelnorim did not rise to envelop him. Unworthily, his first thought was to blame Danyel Jackson, but the human was astonishingly still and silent. He was not the problem, Teal’c admitted. He had achieved kelnorim under far more difficult conditions, on the eve of battle and on Apophis’s ships, and he knew this was the result of a troubled spirit. And the only remedy for that was to purge himself of the concern that weighed him down. “Tell me of Shau’nac,” he said.
Danyel lifted his head. The flame of the lamps was between them, hiding his expression. “What about her?”
“You said that in your time, I married Drey’auc,” Teal’c said. “And she bore me a son who lived to be a man and a leader of our people. I knew Drey’auc in my time, and would have called it an honor to be her husband. But Shau’nac —” His voice was no longer steady, and he paused until he was sure he had it under control “I would have gone on bended knee to Shau’nac, for she was brave and beautiful and wise beyond her years. But she chose to serve in the temple, and then Amaunet chose her for a host, when her own host was injured beyond saving while they visited Chulak. It was an honor unprecedented.”
Danyel gave a bitter smile. “Amaunet. Yes. An honor indeed.”
“I am sorry, Daniel Jackson,” Teal’c said. But at least there were things he did not have to say. He didn’t have to explain what it felt like to see Amaunet with Shau’nac’s face, to know over and over that she was utterly lost to him.
“No, don’t apologize,” Danyel said. “Sha’re — I mean, Shau’nac —” He stopped, shook his head ruefully. “It’s not something you get over, it is? But it’s what Jack said once, you find ways to go on.”
Teal’c nodded gravely, and when Danyel spoke again, his voice was artificially bright.
“Shau’nac did go to the temple in our world,” he said. “But she was never Amaunet’s host.”
“And her fate?” Teal’c waited. “I can hear in your silence that her story does not end well.”
“Like I said, she found a way to communicate with her symbiote,” Danyel said. “And she believed she had persuaded it that what the Goa’uld were doing was evil. She thought she’d convinced it that it wasn’t a god, but one sentient being in a universe full of sentient beings, with no more rights or powers than anybody else. She persuaded it to wait to take a host until a willing one could be found. That’s the part that I thought was relevant, that the symbiote could be talked into waiting.”
“Go on,” Teal’c said.
“She brought the symbiote — it was called Tanith — she brought Tanith to the Tok’ra because she thought they could find it a host, and because if she could convert one Goa’uld, they could probably find a way to convert more.” Danyel sighed. “But Tanith lied. It was Goa’uld through and through. It arranged the whole thing so it could spy on the Tok’ra, and it killed Shau’nac when she realized what it had done.”
Teal’c had guessed as much, but it was a surprise to find the thought as painful as it was. It was better than being Amaunet’s host, he told himself. She had died free, trying to bring others to freedom
.
“This, then, is why you say I must not trust my symbiote,” he said. “No matter what it says. I must persuade it to wait for a better host, but believe nothing it says.”
“Yes,” Danyel said.
“So be it.” Teal’c settled himself again, and closed his eyes. This time, the first stages of kelnorim came easily, the wordless place where his consciousness seemed suspended in his own body, and he could lose himself in contemplation of its workings. A sense of well-being suffused him as all the minor complaints of his body were eased away, and he focused carefully on the source of that content. He could sense it, like a coal glowing deep within him, like a spark in the far distance, a single star on a clouded night. He knew better than to push, to rush. It would only throw him out of balance, and out of this state of ease and relaxation. Instead, he rested, aware of his breath, his heart, the blood moving in his veins, and only after an indeterminable time did he reach out again and allow himself to fall toward that distant light.
He left his breath behind, and the movement of his blood, and still the spark was impossibly far. He had never been so deep into kelnorim before — he was barely a consciousness, barely a stirring of awareness, and something like velvet, like darkness, frayed at the edges of his self, tempting him to dissolve into its warm emptiness. Somewhere in the reaches of his mind, he knew he was in danger. His teachers had warned him of this blissful dark, and how easy it would be to remain in its embrace. And yet the spark was so close now. Only a little further, and he could touch it, though he could not quite remember why that had mattered —
The spark shifted, turned, swelled like a fish rising, and he was aware suddenly of its presence resting against his self, bright and curious.
What?
And then the shape changed, glittering surprise.
Who?
Teal’c, he thought, and felt his memory right itself. I am Teal’c, and that is the symbiote I carry within me.
You are alive, it said, still with surprise and growing pleasure. You think and speak and live.
I do, Teal’c thought at it. I am Jaffa, and I carry you in my belly, in a pouch made for you.
By my mothers and yours, it agreed. And soon I shall be grown and ready — will you be my host?
Teal’c could not suppress the shudder, and felt the symbiote tremble with him.
Is this not what you wish? it asked. What all things wish, to serve their gods?
I am Jaffa, Teal’c thought, carefully. It is not my place to be a host.
You fear it, the symbiote said. Why?
Shau’nac. Teal’c hadn’t meant to reveal so much, but the images came tumbling through him, the beautiful priestess, lost, erased by Amaunet’s possession of her body, a cascade of grief and anger.
The spark flickered, recoiled. I have cared for you, meditated with you — healed you, it said. And you think this of me?
It is truth, Teal’c thought. You know it to be so.
The spark trembled. I do. And I do not wish it to be so! I will not leave you under these conditions, I will not take a host as that one did —
As do all your kind, Teal’c thought.
No! I will not! The spark flared, its anger crackling through both of them. I will show you — find me a willing host, or none at all.
You will stay with me, then, until you have a host willing to accept you? Teal’c asked. Though it may be difficult, and painful for us both?
I will, the spark answered. I, Egeria, swear it so.
Very well, Teal’c answered. And I will keep you until that time.
It was time to leave, he knew. He had the agreement they had sought, but he could no longer find his way back to himself. It was as though the symbiote had drawn him down into an unseen river, its surface frozen; he felt fear, but only as a distant warning, something faintly remembered. The spark wavered then, strengthened, and abruptly he was flung back out of the darkness, rising through the layers of kelnorim with a speed that left him gasping.
“Teal’c?” Danyel said. “Teal’c!”
Teal’c opened his eyes. The lamps were burnt out, except for one or two that flickered low, and Danyel crouched beside him within the circle, worry changing to relief.
“I thought,” he began. “You weren’t breathing, there for a minute, I was afraid —”
“I am well,” Teal’c said. He took a careful breath. His muscles burned as though he had been in battle, but already he could feel the symbiote transforming the toxins into something more benign.
“Good.” Danyel sat back on his heels, shaking his head. “That’s — that was a little too close, Teal’c. I don’t think you should try that again.”
“I do not believe it will be necessary,” Teal’c said. “Egeria has said it will wait until it finds a willing host.”
“That’s good —” Danyel stopped abruptly. “Whoa, wait a minute. Who?”
“Egeria.” Teal’c glanced at his belly, at the stark lines of the symbiote pouch. “That is its name.”
“Whoa,” Danyel said again. “That’s… OK, I was not expecting that.”
“Who is Egeria?” Teal’c asked.
“She’s – she was a goddess of health, she was an adviser to King Numa, and she fought Ra,” Danyel said. “And she was the mother, literally, of the Tok’ra. The resistance against Ra. I don’t know how she could be here, how your immature symbiote could be her. She had to have been born thousands of years ago.” He grimaced. “Well, thousands of years from then. More or less now.”
“Our timelines were very different,” Teal’c said, after a moment. “Surely this means nothing.”
“I hope so,” Danyel said. “Or we have an even bigger problem to deal with. If this is the real Egeria and we kill her… I can’t even begin to imagine the consequences.”
Chapter Seven
Sam picked her way carefully down the long ramp to the building site, Ellie a comfortable weight against her back. She’d been wakened early — sometimes she was sure Ellie knew when her adults were worried, and was wakeful herself — but the baby had settled down again, fed and changed, would sleep at least a little while longer. Tamit trailed behind them, carrying the basket that held their lunch and the baby’s toys and Sam’s sandals, a parasol cocked over her shoulder. Thank God for childcare, Sam thought, even if a fourteen-year-old with mathematical skills wasn’t exactly what would have been recommended back in Colorado.
The sand was warm under her feet. She’d want her sandals later, but right now the heat was pleasant, distracting her from thoughts of Teal’c. That was one thing that hadn’t changed, she thought. No matter when you were living, work had to go on.
The Royal Architect Sethnakht was standing in his usual spot, up on a cracked block of granite that gave him an overview of the entire site. His scribe Ankhaf sat cross-legged at his feet, papyrus spread ready on his board, and several of the gang foremen stood ready, nodding as Sethnakht gave them their orders for the day. Beyond them, the walls of the temple complex had begun to rise, the outer buildings still marked with stakes and faded ribbons, the main temple about half-finished, the mud-brick walls carefully reinforced with stone. The first three columns were in place, and masons were finishing the details of the carving; the new stones had not yet arrived, Sam saw, and hid a sigh. The last foreman bowed, backing away, and Sethnakht turned to greet her.
“Bright lady of our morning!” he proclaimed. “With her handmaid dutiful as the morning star.”
“Good morning, Sethnakht,” Sam said. There were blocks placed beside the granite to serve as steps; she shifted Ellie to a slightly better position, hiked up her skirt, and climbed to join him. Tamit dropped into a crouch to wait for her, raising the parasol against the strengthening sun.
“The day is brightened by your presence,” Sethnakht said. He was tall for an Egyptian, almost as tall as she, with a lean body well revealed by his shenti, a collar of gold and beads resting on his collarbones. He grinned at her, showing good teeth. “Let us ru
n away to the river, lady, where the breeze is cool and there is beer —”
“But no work to be done,” Sam answered. She strongly suspected that if she ever said yes, Sethnakht would panic, but she liked him well enough to indulge him.
“Heartless!”
“Taken,” Sam said. “The new columns haven’t arrived?”
“No.” Sethnakht’s attitude changed instantly. “I’ve had a runner from the port purporting to explain the delay. I sent him on to Pharaoh, let him make his excuses there. In the meantime, I’ve told the brick-layers to carry on with the rear sections. At least we can get that much done.”
Sam nodded. The complex would memorialize the victory over the false Ra, and she couldn’t help thinking of Teal’c and the symbiote inexorably growing within him. Three weeks, he had said, was too long to wait, and now that Hor-Aha had refused to let them open the Stargate —
I’ll have to do it, Jack had said to her, softly, sitting by her side in the garden behind their house.
We’ll figure something out, she had said, but she still hadn’t come up with anything.
The problem was that Pharaoh was right, it was a huge risk, even if they went somewhere else first. If they dug up the gate, got it working again, there was nothing to stop Ra or any other Goa’uld lord from dialing in and attacking. And they had only just defeated Ra the first time around, there was no reason to think they’d get that lucky a second time. In Danyel’s time, the SGC had built a titanium iris that blocked the gate, kept anything from materializing, but here, where copper tools were an expensive rarity, that was hardly an option.
“Sam?” Sethnakht was looking at her, and she forced a smile
“Sorry.”
He shook his head. “What’s wrong?”
Sam sighed. There was no point in not telling him, and he might see something she had missed. “I’m worried about Teal’c. His symbiote is almost mature, and he will die without it.”
“And the symbiote will become a Goa’uld,” Sethnakht said.
“We won’t allow that to happen,” Sam said. “But it will mean Teal’c’s death.” She looked away, not wanting him to see the tears that prickled at the corners of her eyes. “We asked Pharaoh to let us use the Stargate to find him a new symbiote — we know a place where we can steal one, with only minimal risk — but he refused.”
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