Embedded Files
The Sun On The Horizon
Chapter Four
Talk Of The Town
The next day dawned under rolling grey clouds and a chill wind. Haranith had visited early and spent an extended time examining Daniel’s leg and overall fitness. When she released him he had been presented with an enormous hot breakfast, followed by an assisted wash and dressed in several layers of clothes. No bright colours this time. Instead, his pants, tunic, over-vest and long coat were dyed in graduating shades of green. One brown boot and a sock over his cast, matched with brown gloves and scarf finished off the ensemble.
I look like a tree, he mused, pushing down a secret pleasure with the effect.
When he made his way outside he found the expedition members gathered around a group of small vehicles: they looked like a cross between jet skis and the small ATVs Jack had been trying to get Hammond to invest in – a lifetime ago. Some were single seaters, some double with cargo trays in the rear. They sat on long skids and hummed quietly with a promise of power.
Sam would love these.
Sabire hoisted him down the steps and led him to a sleek machine with a long padded seat. Much fussing, balancing and helpful hands got him astride it with Sabire settled behind him, his long arms and legs easily reaching past Daniel to the controls. The anti-gravity support was fixed to the front stirrup, and with his broken leg securely ensconced he settled back, surprisingly comfortable.
Seven other vehicles were mounted: Haranith; Gramire; Gransire; Beni, the one whose idea this was; Pana, Haranith’s assistant, and two mature ladies, Ayshal and Lilya. Sabire patted him on the shoulder and gunned the engine. It purred in a powerful, contained manner and then they were moving, gliding gently over the ground, waved off by a large number of the Clan, children yelling and keeping pace.
The skid under them seemed to ride on a cushion of air and absorbed any bumps from the ground as they manoeuvred between the homes and out into open terrain. Their noisy escort tripped into a laughing heap, the other riders formed up around them and they picked up speed. The caravan and the broken remains of Ba'al’s Al’kesh were soon left behind.
Å
With the wind in his hair, the landscape opening out before him, the quick, easy motion of the vehicle under him: suddenly Daniel felt free again. He drew in a lungful of cool air laden with a natural tang, and he would have let loose a yell of pure delight if he could. He leaned forward, balancing his body to the motion of the bike as it curved around a small hill. Beyond, a sweep of rolling hills stretched away to the horizon. The land was lightly dusted with green vegetation and defined by ribbons of darker green where trees followed the course of small streams.
Daniel absorbed everything he could as they sped along: the unfamiliar bushes with tall spikes of purply-red flowers, the huge sleek brown bird circling high above them, the odd metallic scent rising from a patch of glistening minerals, exposed on one of the hillsides. Sabire would now and then point out a feature of interest, his explanation torn from Daniel’s hearing by the whistle of the wind.
Without a watch it was easy to lose track of time, but after what felt like a couple of hours their speed decreased and the sleek vehicles eased to a halt under the shade of a spindly group of trees. Daniel sat up, realising he’d slouched back to lean on Sabire during the journey. They remained sitting while the others walked over to them.
Haranith checked his leg, which was still resting comfortably in its cradle. She offered him one of the tiny pain pills he’d been taking – less regularly than a week ago – but he was grateful to wash it down with some water.
Ayshal unloaded several cloth-wrapped bundles from the panniers on her bike and shared out cold vegetable slices, boiled eggs and spicy flatbreads, washed down with warm wine that had a definite kick to it.
When lunch was finished, Gransire stepped over to him. ‘Sky-Fallen,’ something ‘town’ something something… The rest escaped Daniel, but the gesture toward one last rise indicated they were near their objective. Gransire shook out a fold of material and made to drape it over Daniel's head.
He flinched back, cracked his skull on Sabire’s chin, eyes going wide as an image of Ba'al leering through a veil of beadwork blotted out the kind face of his host. Strong hands on his shoulders and a babble of voices brought him back.
Whoa. Flashback. Terrific.
Gransire had retreated, looking profoundly apologetic. Haranith took the cloth from him and knelt by Daniel’s side. ‘Pyt Xur, peace.’ She took his hand, drew off the soft glove and laid his hand against her own fine-boned hand. She touched his skin. ‘Bedesh,’ she said, then indicated her own dark skin, sweeping an arm out to include not only the others in their group but those in the city beyond. Then she pressed his hand in hers and held a finger to her lips in a classic shh gesture.
I really am the only white person here. And they want to hide me? He nodded his understanding. Until he could communicate properly it probably was best to keep his identity hidden from the wider population.
Haranith nodded and let him slide his glove back on. She gently draped the cloth over his head and fastened the long tail across his face. It was fine enough to allow him to breath freely and also to see. She patted his shoulder and moved back to her vehicle. As the others followed, Daniel fiddled with the veil and fought off the feeling that he was once again a captive.
Jeez. Have a little faith. They’re trying to help. No way were they taking him to a base full of Jaffa who were just itching to hand him back to Ba'al. Get a grip, Jackson.
Sabire reached past him and pressed the bike’s starter button. Daniel fought down one final twinge of dread, straightened up and decided to face what was coming with an open mind.
Å
They moved off in double file, winding around a series of dips and gullies before straightening out onto a flat, well-paved road. The roadway was in good condition: tidy and bordered by flowering bushes. It was wide enough to accommodate two of the large travelling homes side by side. Daniel noted with interest that traffic moving toward them – an eclectic mix of multiple-user bikes, enclosed vehicles that looked to be hauling goods, and open carts drawn by small, bulky animals with flamboyant brown stripes – all pulled aside to allow right of way to Daniel's group and others heading in the same direction. He studied the animals as they passed: placid enough but with a stubborn air about them that promised trouble to the inexperienced handler.
A flutter of excitement ran through him as he caught his first glimpse of the town. Surrounded by fields of green crops, fruit trees, and grazing herds of what looked like antelopes, homes quickly became visible. In ones and twos, then bunched closer together, most appeared to be constructed of mud brick, designed with flair and a passion to be unique. Some single storied homes wound in complicated patterns through lush gardens, others supported a garden on their roofs. Others rose two, three, even four stories high, with balconies jutting out in unexpected places, whole walls leant at uneasy angles and looked as if a slight breeze would collapse them, but obviously they had survived for many years.
Daniel found himself grinning under his head cloth. Every home was decorated in a wacky, individual way. A riot of flowers arced up over one home, another blazed in bright blobs of geometric colour. Another bore ten-foot high images of what had to be its inhabitants. The residents themselves were as tall, slender and dark as those from the caravan, and wore a wide variety of bright clothing. They traversed the streets or tended their homes with cheerful enthusiasm. It was a picture of a peaceful, secure society and did a lot to calm his nerves.
The residential streets eventually led into a spiral road which hosted the business part of town. The bikes wound along for several turns before slowing and coasting to a halt opposite open parkland that occupied the centre of the town. Sabire killed the engine and tapped Daniel’s shoulder. He looked at their destination with bemusement. The builder must have had a thing for circles. Every door and window was round, even the chimney was circular. It looked like an oversized Hobbit’s house, and the front windows were crammed with a fascinating array of spinning, pulsating, wheezing and smoking… toys.
Daniel stared up at Sabire. You’ve brought me to a toymaker?
Sabire read his uneasiness and grinned. ‘Be at ease, Sky-Fallen. All will be wonderful.’
We’ll see about that. He let Haranith free his leg from the support and help him to stand. Several passers-by glanced curiously at the shrouded, injured figure surrounded by taller companions, but they merely nodded politely and moved along.
While Lilya, Pana and Ayshal headed off on their own errands, Daniel was escorted into the shop, led by Gransire and Gramire. Gramire and Beni cornered the shop owner and began to talk quietly to her. Daniel followed Sabire along the rows of display cabinets, trying not to knock anything with his crutches, marvelling at the intricately worked mechanical toys. Some were clearly animated vehicles or animals, but others hid their purpose well and sat on their shelves, humming or puffing inscrutably. After a few minutes, Gramire beckoned and they followed the shop owner into a workroom crammed with the makings of her toys.
‘Sky-Fallen,’ Gramire said. ‘Here to you, stands Pilletta.’ She indicated the stout, friendly-looking woman of middle age.
Daniel waved hello, which she returned, gazing curiously at him.
Beni stepped forward and spoke rapidly to Pilletta. Daniel caught the words ‘silence’ and ‘promise’. She responded solemnly and placed her hand over her bosom as a sign of her good faith. Then, all eyes turned expectantly to Daniel. Gramire gave him an encouraging nod.
Here goes. He pulled his gloves off, noting the frown that formed on Pilletta’s face. With precise movements, he unwound the head cloth, baring first his eyes, then his entire face and head. He resettled the glasses on his nose and looked squarely at the astonished toymaker.
Her mouth formed a perfect O as she studied him intently: his eyes, face, hands, broken leg and back to his face again. She processed this unique vision for several moments then gave a decisive nod that reminded Daniel of Ernest – staring at the first humans he’d seen in fifty years. Then she smiled a wide, welcoming smile, and stepped closer.
‘Greet the day, honoured one.’
Beni and Haranith both began explaining Daniel’s predicament. He balanced himself on his good leg and loosened his coat, exposing the silver silencer on his throat.
Pilletta immediately lost any shyness she’d had over his appearance and got right in his face for a good look at the bane of his existence. Daniel angled his chin up and held his breath. She studied it for a long minute, then darted over to a workbench. In a flash she was back, eyes enormous behind magnifying lenses, and wielded a series of electronic gadgets at him. Daniel caught Sabire’s concerned look and waggled his eyebrows at him. If Pilletta was anything like Sam, she’d study the silencer for ages before even touching it.
Å
What felt like hours later, Daniel had progressed from standing under a bright light to sitting under more bright lights, to now laying on a workbench under a barrage of small but powerful beams directed at his throat.
What’s the collective noun for lights? A spot? An illume. A dazzle…
Pilletta had erected a small screen to shield his eyes. He tried not to fidget. Sliding his gaze to the side he could see his escort propped, sitting and lounging on any available surface, drinking tea and commenting, or possibly making wagers, on each new piece of gear Pilletta brought to the task. Haranith had occasionally interrupted to give him water and check his health.
Daniel blinked and stifled a yawn. He was well past his afternoon nap time. He let his eyes drift shut, but they quickly sprang open again as Pilletta let out a satisfied grunt. She looked down at him and brandished a thin tool, which had many dangling appendages and a purpose that completely escaped him.
‘Sky-Fallen,’ she said, a determined gleam in her eye. ‘…happen …stop …talk.’
He chewed his lip thoughtfully, missing the crucial words but her expression filled in the blanks. She thought she could do it and was asking his permission.
The others gathered around, a tall forest of kind faces. Haranith looked concerned, but then she mostly did when dealing with him.
No contest, really. I have to try. The only other way to get it off is to go back to Ba'al and that’s not gonna happen. He turned back to Pilletta and nodded.
With a gravity Daniel deeply appreciated, the toymaker directed the others to places around the workbench and to take hold of his limbs with gentle but firm grips. Haranith stood at his head, monitors beeping and a bag full of equipment open next to her.
Pilletta leaned in, held up three fingers, then two, then one.
A low vibration seeped into his throat, running along his nerves with a subsonic disquiet. It made his molars ache and his heart fluttered out of rhythm, just enough to throw his breathing out. He inhaled twice, exhaled once, tried to concentrate on the hands supporting him instead of the weird feeling in his skin. It tickled, then felt like ice cubes. Rapidly it turned to a burning sensation. Pilletta gave a steady commentary but he couldn’t grasp any of it. He dragged in a breath, determined to endure as long as possible – anything to be finally free of Ba'al, to be himself again instead of a victim—
Pain lanced through his throat, closing his airway. Instinct took over. He fought the hands holding him down, body twisting, legs kicking out, as his lungs burned and his mouth gaped for air.
Voices were shouting. A fierce final zing of pain and suddenly air was racing into his lungs again. Daniel threw his head back and breathed, long deep breaths until his thundering heart slowed and his brain’s higher reasoning asserted itself over primal fear.
He breathed and coughed, coughed again, and realised that the coughs were vibrating sound from his voice box. He blinked and did another experimental cough.
Eureka!
Pilletta laughed and held the deactivated silencer in front of him, its filaments dangling like broken legs. Relief swept Daniel like a cold shower. Haranith sat him up and gave him a drink of water.
‘Thank you.’
The words came automatically, but the surprise of hearing his voice again made him pause. It sounded old and scratchy, a remnant of the past. ‘Oh. Hi!’ He grinned at Haranith, at Pilletta, and Sabire, Beni, everyone. ‘Hello!’
Whoops. Wrong language.
‘Nethur!’
‘Nethur.’ They all spoke at once and broke into delighted laughs.
‘Daniel, ant’w ren iw Daniel.’
This brought a chorus of ‘Ahh’s. Gransire stepped up and said, ‘Gransire Adjeta Molane Farola.’ He bowed formally, then made way for the others to do the same.
Once introduced to a string of names, Daniel inclined his head and returned the formality. ‘Doctor Daniel Jackson, born of planet Earth.’ He took Pilletta’s hand. ‘Thank you for the gift of my voice, Pilletta.’ And, oh, wow, didn’t it feel good to speak again. He felt like a little boy who’d been banished from the grown-ups’ room and was finally allowed back into civilised company.
‘Daaniel sounds like the air spirits, and resembles the earth spirits. Truly he is a blessed one. I will hold your secret in my heart.’ Pilletta pressed his hand solemnly to her breast.
Immensely grateful, Daniel sagged a little as the day’s exertion swiftly caught up with him.
‘Daaniel?’ Haranith tentatively took his pulse. His name sounded strange in their native accent: the first syllable stretched, the whole thing melodious and warming.
He mustered a smile and let her help him to his feet. She concealed him under the head cloth and Pilletta ushered them out of the shop, where they found Ayshal, Lilya and Pana waiting for them. Daniel wavered a bit as the cooling afternoon air surrounded them. Once settled on the bike he shamelessly leaned back into Sabire’s solid support. His leg was twanged with pain from too much movement and stimulation after so many days’ stillness in bed.
‘Home, Pyt Xur,’ Sabire said in his ear. ‘Daaniel,’ he added, sounding immensely pleased.
Daniel twisted around and looked up at his host. ‘Sabire, my thanks for your house and your shelter.’ His tired brain groped for the right words. ‘I am obligated to you.’
Sabire nodded gravely, then broke into a cheeky grin. ‘My generosity is unbounded and lauded by all. Of course, being custodian of the Sky-Fallen has done wonders for my allure. I have many moonlight appointments awaiting me.’ He winked, and gunned the engine.
Settling back, Daniel found a grin slowly forming. ‘I’m a date magnet? Huh.’ He cast his eyes over the pretty parklands as the little convoy retraced its path. It was too much to hope to find a Stargate sitting slap in the middle of the first town he visited.
There’ll be one. Has to be. The ancestors of these people were transplanted from Earth. There will be some remnant or sign of a Stargate. Unless… they were brought here by ship.
He closed off that line of thought and concentrated on the questions he would now be able to ask, until the motion of the vehicle sent him off to sleep.
Å
When Daniel woke the next morning, squinting into the sun seeping through the curtains, it took several minutes for the previous day’s events to catch up with him. He rubbed his throat, marvelling at the absence of Ba'al’s control over him.
‘Take that, you tin-plated despot with delusions of godhood,’ he muttered, then smiled at the sound of his voice. Now he felt more like himself, the communicator able to meet any situation and deal with it with the full range of his abilities.
Funny how Ba'al had chosen to linguistically disable him. He’d never seen or heard of the silencer being used by a Goa'uld before.
Or did he create it just for me? A chill crawled over him at the thought of Ba'al knowing him so well. But then, he did know me; a lot of my history. Somehow he’s researched me, talked to people who know me. Sarah – Osiris – yes, but he knows more…
‘Whatever. It’s done and over. I just need to find the Stargate.’ He rolled over and started, surprised to find Sabire sitting silently at the foot of the bed.
‘Hi! Sorry. Nethur, Sabire.’
‘Greet the dawn, Daaniel. I sincerely desire that the remnants of your leg have survived the ministrations of that harridan Haranith and it gives you no pain this day.’
‘Ahh, yup. Pretty much.’ Actually, he did feel good: well rested and only a low niggle of pain from his leg. ‘I hope the day finds you well, too.’
‘I am most exceptional, my friend. It is good to hear your voice. You have a most pleasing tone.’
‘It’s good to be able to talk again.’ Daniel eased himself up and leant back on the pillows.
‘First, I must feed you!’ Sabire jumped up and left the room, his voice trailing behind. ‘Mother Jacuna has provided a morning feast. Of course, she made enough to feed six of the Clan. I confess I took a small sample – just to ensure it was of suitable quality for our honoured guest…’ He reappeared with a tray groaning under mounds of food. ‘But you will not tell her that, will you, my guest? She will berate me fiercely and accuse me of starving the injured, you being so small and fragile as you are.’ He plopped the tray on Daniel’s lap and blinked at him imploringly.
It took him a moment to catch up, his translation-on-the-fly skills a little rusty. ‘I’m not fragile, Sabire, and I’m certainly not small. Well, not among my people, but I guess compared to…’ He trailed off as a teasing grin seeped through Sabire’s mock concern.
‘Ah. That was humour. I’d better eat this before I fade to nothing.’ He smiled at his host, then applied himself to the enticing food.
Sabire perched on the bed, fidgeted, glanced out the window, at Daniel then around the room. ‘Not meaning to intrude in the personal story of my guest, but I am wondering, as is every member of the Clan, how your journey brought you here, Daaniel.’
Daniel nodded and swallowed. He’d been pondering how to tell these good folk that they weren’t alone in the universe, that other races of humanity lived, travelled, fought and explored the planets of this galaxy and had done so for millennia. And how do you tell them about the Goa'uld? Or their own history on Earth?
Start at the beginning.
‘First, Sabire, do you know of an object like this?’ He took the sketch he’d done days ago from the bedside table. ‘It is very tall, hollow in the middle, made of extremely hard stone, with seven jewels on the outer track, and these carvings embedded on the inner ring.’
‘Everyone in the Clan has discussed this drawing since you first showed us. Nobody has seen its like. Even Binish who used to teach in the biggest school of Kemet, the First City to the east.’ Sabire looked at him carefully. ‘It is important to our guest, yes?’
‘Yes, yes it is,’ he answered ruefully. Sabire waited patiently for him to continue.
‘We call it a Stargate. We have one on my homeworld, Earth.’
‘Earth…’ Sabire echoed, savouring the word with wonder, his eyes alight with the idea of another planet where people lived.
‘There are many Stargates on many planets.’ Daniel waved his hand at the ceiling.
Sabire followed the gesture and remained staring, lost in thought for many minutes.
Daniel chose his words carefully, not wanting to overload the man with too many world-changing ideas. ‘My friends and I use the Stargate to explore these worlds.’
Carefully, Sabire asked, ‘Do people live on these worlds? People like us?’
‘Yes. Many planets are inhabited, and despite their very different cultures, they are very like you and I.’
Sabire processed for a moment, then frowned. ‘But, you did not come to us through your Stargate, Daaniel. Unless…’ His eyes widened. ‘It drops you from the Celestial like that all the time?’
‘No,’ Daniel replied quickly. ‘To travel through the Stargate is to merely step from one world to another, like walking through a door.’ He glanced out the window, the wrecked Al’kesh obscured by another caravan. ‘We travelled on that ship through the dark of space for many days. Sabire, you must know that for all the good, peaceful people living on other planets, there are also some who are evil, who bring only harm and destruction to others. I did not come here of my free will. I was a prisoner of those who now lie under the soil of N’Has’y. They call themselves Goa'uld.’ He gave the noun its proper pronunciation, instead of the contemptuous mangling he normally employed. He studied his host’s face for any sign of recognition. There was none.
Sabire sat thoughtfully for long, quiet minutes. Then he nodded and smiled. ‘When first I looked upon you, Daaniel, I knew you were a good person. Small and sickly, perhaps,’ he grinned, ‘but an honest person. Tonight, at the gathering time you must tell the Clan your story. And we in turn must combine all our knowledge to find N'Has'y’s Stargate. If all those other planets have one, then we shall have one too. I would like very much to see some of these worlds of yours. Are there many pretty lasses and lads? You will have to introduce me…’
Daniel laughed. ‘My friend Sam is pretty. Her hair is the colour of that lamp.’ He pointed to a gold glass shade on one wall.
‘Oh, such wonders! You must have many lovers on these planets?’
‘Well, no… well, a couple… no—but, I did meet my wife on the first planet we went to.’
Interested as Sabire was in Daniel’s love-life he insisted Daniel hold his stories back until the whole Clan could share in the telling. They spent the next few hours scanning every history book, literature collection and computer database they could access for any kind of a reference to a Stargate.
Å
There was nothing.
Well, not nothing, but just not what he needed right now. The first thing he’d discovered was the name the civilisation here identified themselves with: M’djay. And the FirstCity, where the central government was situated, was Kemyt, the word an almost direct descendant of the Egyptian word for the fertile shores of the Nile: kmt.
Hours later, drooping from exhaustion, Daniel rubbed his aching eyes, still blearily focused on the circular monitor that connected to the planet’s version of the internet. He was deep in the archive of the Institute of Public History, the main historical archive based in Kemyt. The excitement of finding the meticulous library records dating back six thousand years had slowly dulled. He couldn’t fault the record keeping of the M’djay: it was comprehensive, exacting and as far as he could tell, complete. No gaping holes caused by wars, fires, natural disasters – the record was intact from the day the M’djay were deposited on the planet, named it N'Has'y and took up living and thriving in peace. The vastness of the records was staggering and he couldn’t help a spark of envy: what was known of Earth’s history was but the tip of an iceberg that could never be retrieved.
The only thing missing was the name of the person, or being, who had brought the M’djay ancestors away from Earth to safety here. It had been erased from history.
He did find a well established mythology that the humans on N'Has'y arrived in a ‘great migration’ thousands of years earlier. The specifics were long buried and distorted by time and the telling. The origin of the migration varied from beyond the hills to over vast seas seething with deadly serpents. Nowhere was there mention of a ring or even a spaceship. One record mentioned standing water, and Daniel marked it for closer study. Turning to religious beliefs brought even less information; in fact there was none. For the first time in his anthropological career, Daniel was faced with a staunchly atheist society.
‘Nobody believes in any kind of higher being, someone all-seeing, all-knowing, who watches over the fate of the people?’
‘No…’ Sabire blinked at him, obviously surprised. He glanced over his shoulder. ‘You say that there are beings who watch us?’
‘Well, they’re not actually real. Most ‘gods’ are the product of myth or a society’s desire to place the ultimate responsibility for good and evil in the hands of an unseen power.’
‘Why?’ Sabire was genuinely intrigued. ‘Do these beings come to you and help you in difficult times?’
‘Not really. It’s more the belief in their existence that helps people. The gods don’t actually exist.’ Might leave the Goa'uld pretension to god-hood for another time.
While Sabire pondered that odd idea, Daniel kept flipping through the books lent by Binish. A gorgeous glossy tome on astronomy immediately captured his attention. On the first page was a star constellation, vaguely resembling a winged bird. It bore a label, a name in the curling N’hasy script. Carefully, Daniel translated the word.
Ah.
He reached for his notes and checked his translation. Could it be?
‘Sabire, do you know this?’
The big man needed only a brief glance at the picture. ‘That is Weril. He hangs in the eastern sky. We are too far north to see him here, but he is visible over the city of Kemyt.’
Daniel watched Sabire intently, a familiar shiver working through him: he was on the verge of discovering something important. ‘Weril? It’s a well-known constellation?
‘He is known in our tales. He is the guardian, the one who protects newborns, who guides the way of lost travellers, watches over the animals and draws snakes away from their prey.’
‘Draws… Well, that’s fitting.’
‘Do you know of Weril on your world, Daaniel?’
He ran his fingertips over the picture, trying not to jump to conclusions, but it was difficult. He thought about the way word pronunciation could shift over time. Weril—Werool—Merool—Merul… He was right about this – he had to be.
‘On my planet, Earth, many, many years in the past, in a country called Nubia—’ Daniel paused, rolled the word around his tongue, stretched the vowel, flattened the consonants. ‘Which in their language is pronounced N’Haas…’ He gave a mental sigh. ‘Uh, anyway, one of the gods they worshipped, a minor god really, but the son of a much loved goddess who held primary importance in the pantheon, his name was Merul. The iconography is different here. On earth he was identified by symbolic ram’s horns or a sun disk.’ But in the world of the Goa'uld that would have identified him too closely with Ra. If Merul wasn’t one of Ra’s allies, he could well have taken up the icon of his mother. ‘He was the son of Aset.’
Daniel searched Sabire’s face for recognition of the names, but was disappointed. ‘Aset was also known as Isis.’
‘So many names for each person. How confusing.’
‘Yes, it can be. Their stories are even more tangled. Aset, or Isis, was wife and sister of Asar, otherwise known as Osiris. She adopted Anubis, the child of her sister Nephthys, who tricked Osiris into conceiving the child. There was also their brother Set, who was jealous of Osiris and eventually murdered him. Horus, the child of Osiris and Isis wanted revenge on Set but at the last moment Isis stood between them, refusing to let her son slay her brother. It is said that, in his fury, Horus raped his mother, thus conceiving Merul. By all accounts Merul was a caring god, and followed in his mother’s path by guarding those who worshipped he and his mother.’ Daniel refocused on Sabire’s outraged expression. ‘Uh, it was all a long time ago.’
‘I believe I am grateful these gods have not visited us here on N’Has’y.’ Sabire sagged back, a deep frown of disapproval creasing his forehead. ‘You say that our Weril in the Celestial is named after your mythic ‘god’ Merul?’
Daniel nodded. ‘Yes, yes I do. I think it’s possible that Merul brought your ancestors here to N’Has’y, possibly to protect them from the Goa'uld who were enslaving humans on Earth.’
‘Protecting them from the snakes?’ Sabire pieced the story together perceptively. ‘The same snakes who journey in the body, like those we buried?’
‘The same. The Goa'uld took on the personalities of many of the mythological gods on Earth. It’s hard to know where the myths end and the real stories of Goa'uld atrocities start.’
‘If the snakes are evil as you have said, why would one wish to protect our ancestors?’
‘Well, there are some who will only reside in a willing host. They do not seek power for themselves and stand against the evil ones. They call themselves Tok’ra.’
Sabire stared thoughtfully at Daniel. ‘I believe you must also tell this tale to the Clan tonight. For now, let us keep searching for your Stargate.’
For most of the day, apart from lunch, a nap and numerous visits from neighbours bearing gifts and undisguised curiosity, Daniel and Sabire searched every archive and book for a sign of a gate, DHD, monument, ruin, anything that was connected to the origins of these people on N’Has’y.
There was nothing.
Å
As always, the night was sparkling. The inky black depths of space swept from horizon to horizon and showcased the glittering jewels of the galaxy to perfection. With what now seemed to be comfortable ease, Daniel had relaxed back into the solid support of his chair. With Sabire at his side and surrounded by the friendly chatter of the Clan and the heat of the fire, he found himself drifting, eyes searching the stars above for two little pinpricks that he knew of as home. Earth, Abydos, either would bring great comfort just to know where they were, that he was looking in the right direction when his thoughts fled homeward.
The absence of conversation brought his attention back to the planet he was sitting on. People were beginning to gather cups and dishes, some making noises about turning to their beds. Too tired and peaceful to move, Daniel slid his gaze around the gathering - and found Gransire watching him with inscrutable contemplation. Daniel quirked his eyebrows, silently inviting comment.
‘Would you tell us, Daaniel, your tale?’
All eyes turned to Daniel.
Slowly, with Sabire filling in the words he’d yet to learn, Daniel told them the story of the Stargate, of the Goa'uld, both on Earth and throughout the galaxy, and his theory that the N’Has’y ancestors had been brought here for their protection. His audience listened raptly, eyes wide, with little comment. He had the feeling they would be discussing this for weeks to come.
Finished, he slumped back into his seat and savoured the hot tea Jacuna poured for him.
Gramire leant forward, her faded brown eyes pinning him intently. ‘And what of you, Daaniel, our Sky-Fallen? How did your journey bring you to us?’
He took a long swallow of tea. A memory flashed by: standing chilled and defeated in the pouring rain, his life stalled, the future a yawning black hole ready to swallow him. And then a car pulled up… That story could wait for another telling.
‘I was taken, against my will, from Earth by a Goa'uld named Ba'al. He is a powerful System Lord, ranked highest among the Goa'uld. He had me taken to his homeworld, tried to secure my cooperation with tales of peace between our people. I wanted to believe him, but knew he was dangerous, deceptive. Ultimately he revealed his intentions to use knowledge he thinks I possess to gain greater control over all the peoples of the galaxy. Ba'al was attacked by another Goa'uld and he sent me away on his great ship. But it was damaged in the fight. We fled in the smaller Al’kesh…’
Many heads turned to the indistinct outline beyond the camp. ‘It too was damaged, and finally crashed here.’
Gransire nodded to himself and straightened in his blankets. Murmurs rose around the circle. Daniel stifled a yawn and shifted position, his leg beginning to throb in protest at the long day. Hoping to be excused he looked up and found the two elders studying him.
‘Daaniel, if we may ask?’ Gransire said mildly. ‘Will the Goa'uld Ba'al be looking for his captive? Will he try to reclaim you?’
Cold washed through Daniel’s body. He blinked, mouth open for an answer that would not come.
Such simple words, plainly asked. And they sucked all the air out of his lungs. Chills swept from his scalp to race down his spine. The warmth of the night was gone, there was only cold and darkness and a small pinprick of light from the fire far, far away.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid.
His ankle twitched of its own accord sending a stab of pain up his leg. He’d been so relieved at being free, congratulating himself at escaping the insanity of Ba’al and his court. He had lost himself in these people and their way of life, in the hope of going home. The lure of a new language, a new culture, a mystery to be solved and of having people interested in him and his story had been enough to swamp his good sense and allow any fears about Ba’al to be buried. He just hadn’t thought. But of course it would not end with the burial of the Jaffa from the Al’kesh. Ba’al had made it patently clear that the knowledge he was after was of enormous value. He would not just write Daniel off as killed in action without proof. Nor would the anonymous members of his little cabal.
‘They’ll come, in ships, and wipe you out.’
There were no Nox here to protect N’has’y. Visions of the carnage wrought by death gliders strafing Nagada filled his head. He looked at the people around him. Beautiful, beautiful people.
‘I was a beautiful child…’ Kendra. Even she had died for meeting Daniel Jackson. How many had died on Tsydon, victims of Zipacna’s deadly search for him?
This can’t happen again. These people have never known war and you’ve brought it to them.
He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then looked up at Gransire and Gramire, at the children and mothers and fathers, families and friends around him.
The curse of Daniel Jackson was about to be visited upon these innocents. Bleakly, he turned back to Gransire: unknowingly awaiting the news of his death sentence.
‘Yes, Gransire. I think it quite likely Ba'al will be looking everywhere for me. It’s only a matter of time before he comes here. I’m—’ His voice caught. He coughed and, considering what was about to come down upon them, said the most inadequate of words.
‘I’m sorry.’
Gransire cocked his head to one side, and Daniel felt naked under his perceptive gaze.
‘I think it will not be an easy thing, to find their captive, if they come.’
The people laughed in approval and dispersed to bed. Daniel barely felt Sabire hoisting him to his feet. He wondered if he would ever feel anything again. Except for fear.
Å
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