Stargate SG-1: Trial by Fire: SG1-1 (24 page)

The smile returned, riding on the back of a sigh. "Do you know
where you are?"

"Not in Kansas anymore."

And he wouldn't even be here... la-dee-da-dee-da-dee-da-da...
if he only had a brain.

The smile crumpled into a frown. "Why didn't you trust me,
Deodatus? It would have been easier. I gave you my word, didn't
I? We'd never harm you."

No. It was a ritual, wasn't it? To see what it would take to make
him beg off? They'd pushed him to the edge and hauled him back,
three times. Three elements. Water. Fire. Air. What about earth?

"How often... How often do you get it wrong?"

"Never. Not once."

Perhaps. They'd timed it perfectly. Just long enough to make
him lose consciousness. And a few bonus seconds to ensure he
wasn't faking it.

"How long have I been out?"

"You woke up briefly and had some water. I'd be surprised if
you recalled it. Then you slept for several hours, which is normal.
You were exhausted."

No kidding. He risked a sit-up and realized that somebody had
put clothes on him in the meantime. Including the same white,
embroidered tunic as Tertius and a pile-up of guys by the entrance
to the chamber. They jostled for good viewing spots and ogled him with scary enthusiasm.

"Salve, frater," blurted a daring spirit.

Greetings, Brother?

His left hand shot to the top of his head. Nope. Nobody had
shaved him while he couldn't scream blue murder. Just checking.

"Howdy." He decided on half a grin.

The brothers murmured approvingly, still gawking as though
they expected him to burst into song or, at the very least, into a
speech. Jack looked away, scanned the rest of the room, until his
gaze settled on the raven mask that sat next to him on the bench. He
carefully ran a finger over its crest. The feathers were real and the
craftsmanship amazing. The beak had been carved from a piece of
olive wood and polished to a sheen. It gaped angrily. The bird was
about to caw. And say what?

"What does it mean?" he asked softly.

"It marks your status among us," replied Tertius. "You are a
neophyte, a Raven, who follows and lives on death."

Did Tertius know how appallingly and unbelievably apt this
was, or had it been fluke? The man's face gave away nothing, and
Jack refused to pursue the implications of the totem he'd been
assigned.

"Who are you?"

"Pater sum."

"Aren't you a bit young to be their father?" His eyes found the
audience again.

Tertius chuckled. "I joined the brotherhood as soon as I was
given a man's toga."

"What about them?"

"Caius here" - Tertius pointed at a scrawny guy in his sixties
whose face was disfigured by a deep, puckered scar zigzagging
across his cheek and down to his mouth - "is Heliodromus, a sun
runner, who has reached the final stage of enlightenment. He is
the most senior brother next to myself. Marcellus and Tullius" -
two nods from among the throng by the door - "are Leones, at the
beginning of their journey to spiritual wisdom. You've met them,
of course."

The lions. Oh yes. And obviously their candles had short wicks, although nobody was home to trim them. How come that, whenever
he died, somebody insisted on hitting him over the head with an
extract from Oma Desala's anthology of impenetrable mantras? So
help him, if anyone so much as breathed the word `Ascension' he'd

"And there," Tertius carried on, "is Gnaeus, whom you also
know. He is Nymphos, a bride."

"A... bride?"

"Gnaeus has vowed to remain celibate for a year."

Which would explain the attitude. Jack winced. The blushing
bride beamed at him, revealing a startling gap where an upper
incisor had lodged not too long ago.

"Queaso, fratei; erudi me. Volo discere artificium tuum,"
Beefcake lisped through the gap.

So he wanted to learn the trick that had cost him a tooth, did
he?

"Placet," agreed Jack, guessing that the least he could do was
teach him. "Nunc?"

The men laughed.

"Your eagerness to instruct your brother honors you, Deodatus,"
said Tertius, grinning. "But fighting, even in jest, is not permitted
in the shrine of Mithras."

Who?

Tertius flicked a glance at the relief on the head wall, the young
man killing the bull. So this was Mithras. Jack rose, wandered over
to the relief and studied it again, without drawing any conclusions
above and beyond the fact that the bull looked doped. Where was
Daniel when you needed him?

Eventually he turned, challenged Tertius. "You promised to tell
me about him."

"I did."

As if on cue, the men silently filed along the benches and sat
down, impatient to listen to a story they must have heard time and
time again. Tertius took a step forward, his face flushed copper by
the torchlight, serene and intense at once.

"Mithras is the god of truth and heavenly light, the judge of our
souls, the star that goes with you and shines out of the depths. He was bom of the virgin mother - "

That sounded familiar somehow.

"and sent to be our protector and savior."

"From what?"

"Ahriman."

"Harriman?" Actually his name was Davis, although it had
taken Jack a while to -

"Ahriman is evil absolute. Our legend says that he took the shape
of a bull to fight Mithras. Mithras slew the bull, but Ahriman's
essence remained. It crawled into a new shape."

And that, too, sounded familiar. In a sick sort of way. "Ahriman
is a Goa'uld?"

A whisper traveled through the line of men, and Caius, the old
boy with the scar, snapped, "You know of the Goa'uld? How?"

"We killed a bunch."

You could have heard the proverbial pin drop. At last somebody
whispered again, presumably a translation, and the murmurs grew
louder. Beefcake gazed at him with undiluted reverence.

"Goa'uld occidisti?"

"I had help."

"You forget his name, brothers." Suddenly Tertius was wearing
his sphinx-smirk. "Deodatus is a gift sent by Mithras. With his aid
we shall finish what we have begun."

Or not. God's gift was gonna get cranky as hell if people didn't
stop shoving him across the chessboard like a pawn. On the other
hand, if there really was a Goa'uld involved... Jack had never even
heard of this guy. Probably not a system lord. Probably some minor
creep who was content to terrorize the population of some out-ofthe-way planet.

"So what became of this... Ahriman?"

"He became Meleq."

"What?'

Jack blinked. He had difficulty believing it, because they'd
seen none of the usual red flags go up in Tyros. But Tertius didn't
look like he was lying. None of them did. Unlike Jack's buddy,
Kantankero the High Priest. Then again, if you were doing the
enlightened thing and served the god of truth, lying would be a bit of a no-no, wouldn't it?

"You're saying Meleq is a

"Goa'uld. Meleq is Ahriman. Evil absolute."

Yeah, well... a snake by any other word would smell as rank...
Jack found a spare seat on the bench, sat down, and tried to digest
the newsflash.

"The Tyreans? Do they know?"

"Only their Synod," one of the lions, Marcellus or Tullius,
replied. "Meleq - Ahriman - loves deception. He will send his
Jaffa to tend to the wounded, to distribute food to the needy, and to
train the Tyrean soldiers so that they may defeat us one day."

That solved at least one riddle. No wonder everyone had gone
cross-eyed with bliss to see Teal'c. But it didn't necessarily mean

"Where's the deception?" asked Jack.

"He tricks the Tyreans into sacrificing their young."

"Sacrificing them?"

"They're killed. All of them, except the few chosen to be hosts.
They're the unlucky ones."

Too damn right, they were. "So that's why you

"That is why we are raiding their temples and stealing their
children," Tertius cut in. "Do you understand now, Deodatus?"

"And I suppose you tried talking to them?"

"We did. Many years ago, we had a settlement near Tyros. We
traded with the Tyreans, and we talked to them, and some of the
people began to listen. Then the Synod learned of it and ordered
our village wiped out. The Tyreans killed indiscriminately, men,
women, and children. The few prisoners they took died rather than
submit to Meleq. After that, they started persecuting us wherever
we went, until we fled into hiding on the islands."

Holy crap... Sectarian zealotry was a lovely thing, wasn't it?

"So the attack on the ship was a bit of both? Retaliation and
rescue?"

"Deodatus! You're not listening to me! We had nothing to do
with it." Tertius lookedpissed, then he clamped down on his temper.
No fighting in the shrine of Mithras. "Tell us about the ship!"

As dispassionately as he could, Jack sketched out the sordid details for them. By the end of it, there was a stew of fury and
dismay simmering in the chamber. These guys either were the most
talented gang of actors he'd ever come across, or they'd genuinely
had no idea. At last Tertius stirred, rubbed a hand over his face.

"You say that Abibaal was among the dead?"

Jack nodded. "He and two of his sidekicks, apparently."

"This is very bad news."

"Bad news? The other day in the square I didn't get the
impression that Abibaal was any too popular with you folks."

"Your impression is correct, Deodatus." Tertius had started
pacing, round and round the room, to the point where Jack got edgy
enough to want to get up and trot along. "What you don't know is
that Abibaal wished to negotiate a truce."

"A truce?"

"He was an old man. Sometimes old men grow a conscience."

"How did he contact you?"

"We still have friends among the Tyreans. Not many, but some.
His wish became known to them, and the message was relayed. We
arranged a meeting. When Abibaal failed to come, I went to Tyros
to find out what had happened. That was when you first saw me. If
I hadn't had to run, I might have found out about the ship sooner."

"Nothing personal, but you might wanna work on the camouflage.
You didn't exactly blend in, did you?"

"No." Tertius finally slowed to a halt. "It's a matter of pride,
Deodatus. Foolish pride perhaps, but we are honored to wear
Mithras' garments."

"So if you didn't attack the ship, who did?"

"Isn't it obvious?" asked Caius. "It could only have been

"Tertius! Tertius!"

The shout bounced through the cavern outside and ricocheted
up the tunnel and into the chamber. Despite the distortion from
the echo Jack thought he'd identified the voice. The other men
instantly came to their feet.

"Hic, Flavie!" Tertius hollered back. Then he said, "You will have
to wait. Flavius wouldn't come here, unless it were important."

Jack groaned. He'd let himself be folded, spindled, and mutilated
just to get that goddamn answer, and now MrNosegay had slammed the door on him. "Look -"

Flavius came skidding in, sweaty red and yelping. "Naves tres,
domine! Naves longae! Tyreni veniunt!"

Time seemed to freeze. Even if Jack hadn't understood what
Flavius was saying, the look of shock on every face would have
been enough.

"Geez, Carter... Your timing sucks," he muttered softly.

Tertius heard him anyway. "Carter?"

"My second-in-command. You didn't think my people would
just shrug and move on without me, did you?"

"How did this Carter find us? And why did he bring the Tyrean
ships?"

"Probably because one of the very few things she can't do is fly.
As for -"

"She? Your second-in-command is a woman?"

"Oh yes. And right now she's your best guarantee for damage
limitation. She won't allow any knee-jerk reactions on the part of
the Tyreans if she can help it."

You got that, Carter? No knee-jerk reactions!

n the glittering waters of the fjord below the ships were dying,
floating fireballs that sent dark columns of smoke roiling between
the cliffs that closed in the harbor. If you listened closely, you could
hear the sputter of the flames all the way up here.