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  “Sebak,” said Nebti, and lowered her head as she walked.

  Daniel looked over his shoulder at the rest of his team. “Heads down,” he said in a low voice. “It’s a sign of respect.”

  Typically, Jack was the last to drop his gaze to his feet. Dixon was first, apparently not the least bit offended or perturbed.

  He’d make a good anthropologist.

  Some fifteen paces from Sebak, Nebti halted and dropped to her knees. Daniel copied her, ungainly with the weight of his pack, and heard the others copy him. Heard Jack bitching under his breath. “Elder Sebak,” the girl said, still staring at the ground. “This man is Daniel. He has come to speak to Khenti.”

  Daniel risked looking up. Elder Sebak had a thin face, grooved with age and experience. His dark eyes were deepset, his nose proudly hooked. His short hair was mostly gray and clipped close to his head. Something in the way he held himself brought Kasuf to mind.

  It’s only because they’re around the same age. It’s only because both men hold high authority. I’m projecting memories.

  And it had to stop. He’d never be able to focus on this mission properly if he kept seeing Abydos, Abydonians, every time he turned around. If he kept seeing the lost faces of his adopted family.

  “Elder Sebak,” he said. “My friends and I come to you in peace. Not from beyond the divide, but from a place much further from your hearths and homes. It is a place we would speak of with you and Elder Khenti and the rest of your village council, but not here. For such important words we need a more private place.”

  Sebak blinked slowly, looking him up and down. “You are the Elder of your people, Daniel?”

  Before he could answer, Jack spoke up. “No. No, that would be me. I’m the Elder — I mean, leader. Jack O’Neill. Colonel. And associates.”

  Sebak nodded but his gaze now shifted to Sam, and fixed there. “A woman with hair of gold,” he murmured. “Is this a possible thing? It is not known among the women of Adjo.”

  “Apparently not, no,” said Jack. “Which would be just one of the reasons we’d like to talk somewhere else. Without an audience. And preferably not kneeling. If you had my knees, sir, you’d completely understand.”

  Serenely unfazed by Jack, once more ignoring him, Sebak’s gaze shifted again. “Daniel, how is it that you know my name, and the name of our senior village Elder?”

  Ah. Yes. Now for the tricky portion of the program… “Sebak, when we arrived we met a young woman. Lotar. She was very kind, very helpful, she — ”

  “Lotar?” said a voice from the back of the silent, watching crowd. “What have you done with her? Where is she now?”

  Sebak turned as a young man, maybe eighteen or nineteen years of age, forced himself between the gathered villagers. His face was scarred too, as though one cheek were made of wax and had melted in a hot flame then cooled again to firmness. But it wasn’t a burn scar, Daniel was certain. Something else — something unknown — had caused the imperfection. Beneath the flaw he was as handsome as Skaara.

  “Bhuiku?” he said, before Sebak responded. “Am I right? You’re Bhuiku, Lotar’s promised husband?”

  The young man pulled up short as though he’d run into a Goa’uld force field. “You know me?”

  “Lotar told us about you,” he said. “Before she continued with her passing time rites. She continues at the shrine, Bhuiku, preparing for your wedding.”

  And since that wasn’t exactly a big fat lie, I’m not going to feel bad about saying it. Not if it keeps Lotar out of trouble.

  Sebak looked at the young man. “Go to the Elders’ hall, Bhuiku, and strike the summoning gong. Elder Khenti will hear it and know he is needed.”

  Bhuiku bowed. “Sebak. I obey.”

  And without a word of complaint or question, Daniel noted, as Lotar’s intended made his way back through the crowd.

  “Come,” said Sebak. “We will wait for Khenti in the Elders’ retreat.” With a gracious wave of his hand he indicated that they should stand and follow him.

  The crowd parted for them, whispering and pointing at Sam, who was trying to pretend the fuss about her hair wasn’t getting on her nerves.

  “Never mind, Carter,” said Jack with a sidelong smile as they impersonated a gaggle of baby ducklings following an unlikely mother duck. The sound of the summoning gong, hollow and booming, shivered the warm air. “Before our next mission you can do a full-on Sinead O’Connor,” he added, raising his voice. “That’ll fix the style police’s little red wagon.”

  “If you’d only thought to bring a pair of clippers with you, sir, I’d do it right now,” she replied.

  Jack snorted. “Shame on me for my lack of foresight. Daniel — ”

  Only partly paying attention to the banter, he was avidly taking in the layout of the village and wishing he could risk pulling out the camera. But he was pretty sure he’d just spook the locals if he did and that wasn’t the best way to get them on side.

  “Yeah?” he said, noting that the Goa’uld symbols for Setesh and Ra were painted over the doorways of every building they passed. Interesting. So either the passage of time had mingled the descendants of each Goa’uld’s human slaves or —

  “Daniel!” said Jack. “Stop being an anthropologist for five seconds and pay attention, would you?”

  “Sorry, sorry,” he said, abandoning delicious speculation. “What?”

  “This Sebak,” said Jack, his voice dropped now to a barely audible murmur. “What do you make of him?”

  Sebak was marching a few paces ahead of them, his sprightly stride belying his age, admonishing curious villagers with sharp looks and gestures indicating they should mind their own business and get on with their chores. He was leading them away from the main cluster of village buildings, up a sloping hard-packed dirt street towards a long, low mud brick building whose walls were daubed with more Goa’uld glyphs and other, unfamiliar symbols.

  Fantastic. There’s a good chance these people have developed their own written language, completely independent of all other human cultural influences. This place could be a linguist’s paradise. Damn. I wonder if Hammond will let me bring Doctor Shipp on board, she’s —

  “Daniel!” said Jack, grabbing his sleeve. “For crying out loud would you stay focused?”

  “I am focused, Jack,” he said, and tugged his arm free. “Everything I see tells me something you might need to know. Sebak is highly respected, possibly feared. He’s obeyed unquestioningly and — ”

  “Yeah, I noticed that,” Jack said sourly. “Remind me to ask him what his secret is, will you?”

  “The important point is that Sebak’s not the senior Elder,” he continued. “Which means Khenti’s even more formidable. Jack, I doubt you’ll get very far with these people if you don’t cut back on the wiseass commentary. For the purposes of this mission you can’t be Jack O’Neill the super soldier. You’ve got to be Jack O’Neill the humble petitioner.” He shook his head. “Which kind of boggles the mind, but — ”

  “I can do humble,” said Jack, sounding offended. “I can be as humble as the next guy, just you watch.”

  Daniel looked at him. “Jack, no offence, but when they were handing out humble you were off plundering the arrogant self-confidence barrel. Which is good, it’s great, it’s fine,” he added hastily, as Jack opened his mouth to blister him with pithy invective. “Arrogant self-confidence is exactly what we need from you… 99 percent of the time. But this isn’t that time. Now we’re in tricky 1 percent territory…”

  Jack took a deep breath and let it out, slowly. “I can do humble, Daniel.”

  “Can you?” he said. “Really?”

  “Yeah, all right, I can’t,” said Jack, scowling. “But that’s why you’re here.”

  “Exactly. Except there’s no point in me being here if — ”

  “Yes! I get it!” Jack continued to scowl. “Ixnay on the smartassery. Message received, loud and clear.”

  “Good,” he said, profound
ly relieved. “Now I suggest you go on letting me be our spokesman, at least for the moment. Obviously you’ll get the final word on any decisions that need to be made but — ”

  “Really?” said Jack. “Too kind, I’m sure.”

  He sighed. “Jack…”

  “Later,” said Jack, looking ahead. “Seems we’ve arrived.”

  They had, just as the summoning gong fell silent. Directly in front of them, at the end of the packed dirt roadway, was the long, low Elders’ retreat. Sebak stood in its open doorway, his hands clasped before him.

  “Here is our place of private consultation,” he said. “In the village hall we hear disputes and settle grievances. Our retreat is where we gather for meditation. We will wait within for Khenti and the other Elders to return from the shrine of rebirthing.”

  He stepped aside, one hand inviting them to enter.

  Daniel followed Jack in, the others close behind him, and looked around. The first word that sprang to mind was Spartan. Four walls, no windows. No table or chairs. No decorations of any kind. The only place to sit was the floor. There were four lumpy-looking palliasses scattered about, probably stuffed with straw and crawling with critters.

  “So. This shrine you’re talking about,” said Jack, looking around the retreat’s austere lamp-lit space. What he was thinking showed clearly on his face. Crap. Not exactly the Hilton. “Is it the same kind of shrine where we met Lotar?”

  Khenti shook his head. “No. The shrine of rebirthing is only for the Elders.”

  As Sam, Teal’c and Dixon drifted sideways to stand along one wall, Jack took center stage and adopted a standard at ease pose, his hands clasped lightly in front of him.

  “So, it’s a special shrine, for special people?”

  Sebak considered Jack in silence for a moment. “The Elders of a village are tasked with its safety and well-being. Where you are from, do your Elders not gather in… special… places?”

  Daniel risked a pointed look sideways. Jack, you idiot, this is not the time for the politics of equality!

  “Yes, they certainly do, Elder Sebak,” he said, his tone deliberately soothing. “But not one for rebirthing, as far as I know.”

  “No rebirthing?” Sebak demanded, pinning him with a sharp stare.

  “I don’t think so,” he said cautiously. “At least, I don’t recognize your terminology. Perhaps we do share the same ritual but just call it by a different name.”

  “Perhaps,” said Sebak, dismissive. “Khenti will speak of this when he returns.”

  “Which will be when, exactly?” said Jack.

  From the look on his face Sebak clearly didn’t care for being questioned. “Khenti comes when he comes. You will wait. You will see him.”

  “Yes, of course we will,” Daniel said quickly, before Jack could answer. “Thank you. Sebak, Lotar told me your village is called Mennufer.”

  Sebak nodded, his expression easing. “Yes. Mennufer.”

  “Or as the Greek put it, Memphis,” Daniel explained, glancing at the rest of the team.

  “Tennessee?” said Jack, incapable of helping himself. “What does that make your river? The Mississippi?”

  “Our river is the sacred Nile,” said Sebak.

  “Of course it is,” said Daniel, with another quelling look at Jack. “The Nile, source of all bounty. A blessing upon the people of your land. And Mennufer, the good place, sacred seat of the gods.”

  Sebak smiled again. “You understand.”

  “I try to,” he replied. He gestured at the glyphs painted over the retreat’s four walls. “You are protected by Ra and Setesh?”

  Sebak’s face went still. “You know their names.”

  “I recognize their symbols.”

  “You are their emissaries?”

  “No,” said Jack. “Really, really no. Whatever the opposite word is to emissaries, that would be us. Sebak, we’re no danger to you. I give you my word. We’re not here to harm you or your people.”

  Disturbed, Sebak began to pace the open space between the four painted walls. “Save your words for Khenti. He is our senior Elder. He is the speaker for the people of Mennufer.”

  Daniel touched Jack’s forearm. “Don’t,” he muttered. “Just let it go for the moment. First Lotar, now Sebak. They’re still deathly afraid of the Goa’uld, Jack.”

  “Which is a bit odd, don’t you think? Seeing how the Goa’uld haven’t set foot on Adjo for three thousand years?”

  “Well…” Daniel shrugged. “Jesus last walked the earth two thousand years ago. That hasn’t lessened his impact any.”

  “Guys,” Sam said softly. “Not the time for a comparative religion debate.”

  She was right, as usual.

  Sebak stopped pacing and turned. “This man,” he said, pointing at Teal’c. “This man is not like the rest of you.”

  “He may look different,” said Jack, “but he’s one of us, Sebak.”

  Sebak stepped closer. “It seems to my eyes that a god has written upon his forehead.

  “No god has touched me, Sebak,” said Teal’c. “On that you have my word.”

  Sebak’s gaze moved from Teal’c to the glyphs on the walls. For the first time since they’d met him, uncertainty shifted across his austere face. “I do not sense a lie in you. But neither do my eyes deceive.”

  “I think,” said Jack, letting his own authority crackle through his voice, “these are words to be saved for Khenti.”

  Sebak walked to the open doorway and gazed outside. “Yes. He is senior Elder. He is the wisest of us all.”

  “Nice deflection, Teal’c,” said Jack, as Sebak stepped out of the retreat to stand on the dirt pathway leading to its door.

  “Are you going to tell this Khenti who Teal’c really is?” said Dixon.

  Jack glared at him. “Speak up there, why don’t you, Dixon? I don’t think Sebak heard you.”

  “Sorry, sir, but I think it’s a reasonable question,” said Sam. “These people have retained enough of their history to recognize Goa’uld symbology. They might not know Apophis, but — ”

  Jack shut her down with a look. “Major, Teal’c is one of those bridges we don’t cross until we reach it, is that clear?”

  She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “We don’t need to complicate this situation. They don’t need to know he’s a real live Jaffa. Not if the idea of the Goa’uld scares the pants of them… which I think it’s pretty obvious is the case.”

  Daniel nodded. “Agreed. The less we say about Teal’c’s origins the better. Unless not telling them the truth looks like putting the mission at risk.”

  “And who makes that determination?” said Dixon. If he was offended by Jack’s slap down, he didn’t show it.

  “Who do you think?” said Jack.

  Before Dixon could reply, if he even intended to reply, Sebak re-entered the retreat, hands clasped and eyes fervent.

  “You will kneel now, Daniel. All of you will kneel. Khenti approaches with the rest of the council. The time has come for you to speak your truths… and Khenti will tell you what they mean.”

  Daniel held up a hand as Jack opened his mouth. “Thank you, Sebak,” he said. “You’re very kind.” And as Sebak stepped outside again to greet Khenti he knelt, resolutely ignoring Jack’s expression. “Humble, remember?” he muttered. “Go on. Surprise me.”

  Jack smiled. “One more word and I’ll deck you, I swear.”

  Khenti, senior Elder of Lotar’s village of Mennufer, ceased his whispered conference with Sebak and entered the retreat. Pressing his gnarled hands together, he dropped his chin to his chest in greeting. Like his fellow Elders he was dressed in crimson-dyed linens. Also like them he was small, sun-baked and shriveled by a hard life. But he was set apart from his companions by a clumsily inked tattoo of an ankh upon his left cheek, below the eye.

  Daniel stared at the tattoo, intrigued. Amazing that the symbol has survived this long. I wonder what its significance is to this population, as opposed
to the people of ancient Egypt. Will I get the chance to ask him? I hope so. I hope that kind of question isn’t considered rude.

  Behind Khenti stood Sebak and two other village Elders. All three of them appeared to be a few years younger than Khenti, in Earth terms maybe a hard-fought fifty-five or sixty. He’d have to ask Sam what that meant in Adjoan years. The two planets didn’t have the same timeframe references, due to dissimilar axes and rotations and astronomical stuff like that. There’d be some kind of complicated mathematical equation to work out the difference. Probably she could do it in her sleep.

  Khenti, eyes hooded, reserving judgment, lifted his head. “Strangers, be welcome to this village of Mennufer,” he said, then looked at Jack. “Sebak tells me you are the Elder of your people?”

  Jack nodded, his demeanor as respectful now as if he addressed General Hammond. “Their leader, yes. Colonel Jack O’Neill. And with me — ” He started pointing. “ — are Doctor Daniel Jackson, Major Samantha Carter, Teal’c, and Colonel David Dixon.”

  Again, Khenti lowered his head. “All of you, be welcome. Here is the council of Mennufer. Sebak you have met. This is Madu, and this is Panahasi.”

  The men nodded. Like Khenti and Sebak they bore no sign of previous illness. That could be significant. Only the unblemished get to rule? Something else I’ll have to ask about when the moment’s right.

  “Be upstanding before us,” said Khenti. “Tell me, what are these odd things you bear with you?”

  They all pushed to their feet, Jack grunting painfully. “They’re weapons, Elder Khenti,” he said, patting his MP5-K. “Devices we use for self-defense. We’ve come a long way. We didn’t know what to expect when we arrived.”

  Khenti’s thin lips curved in a smile. “You are a prudent man. You have a care for your people.”

  “Yes, I do,” said Jack. “It’s my job as their Elder. Just as your job is to protect the people of Mennufer.”

  “And will it come to pass that I must protect them from you, Colonel Jack O’Neill?”