Stargate SG-1: Trial by Fire: SG1-1 (6 page)

"You, too, are welcome to Tyros, my friends. Please permit me
to escort you to our city."

"Oh dear," whispered Professor Kelly.

Thunderheads were pushing in from the south, piling over the
suns and tarnishing colors, even the plum and mauve riot of their
guide's robes. The wind had picked up sharply, made cedars groan,
smelled of salt. They couldn't be far from the coast. Dust and dried
pine needles flew before the gusts, and despite the rain-heavy
twilight Sam put her sunglasses back on to protect her eyes.

The darker it got, the more subdued their guide became. His
name was Hamilqart, and he was an Acolyte of the Second Grade.
Whatever that meant. Cheerful and chatty, with an easy smile, he'd
kept looking at them as though they were the answer to his prayers.
Until the storm had started brewing. Sam hoped he didn't interpret
it as a sign that the native deities disapproved of their presence.

A first lightning bolt zapped across indigo skies, and Hamilqart jumped like a spooked rabbit. The lightning was followed by an
impressive clap of thunder, which in turn was followed by a moan.
He stepped up the pace, almost to a run, robes fluttering madly
behind him.

Around the next bend the forest parted and they emerged at the
edge of a cliff. In the distance below stretched a rugged coastline,
misted over by foam and battered by breakers that rolled in from
a churning, lead-gray sea. Inside a large natural harbor two ships
tore at their moorings, pitching madly. Looped around the harbor
and creeping up the hillsides lay the city of Tyros. Ant-like, people
rushed along streets and over squares and sought shelter in houses.
Even from here you could tell they were scared. A new stroke of
lightning bound the frantic scurrying in momentary suspension, as
though their collective lives had hiccupped. A thunderclap, and as
it rumbled out, the frenzy resumed.

"Lord Meleq is angry," Hamilqart wailed.

"He's the master of storms?" asked Daniel.

Kelly, all wind-tossed bun and swirling tweed, clasped her bag
to her chest. For a moment it seemed as though she was going to
comment and decided against it. Her lips twitched into a furtive little
smile. Proud teacher. Since Hamilgart had appeared on the plan,
she'd shown amazing restraint. Not that anyone was complaining.

More flashes and roaring thunder, then the heavens opened. No
need for shades now. As Sam pulled them off, prospects brightened
marginally.

"Yes. Lord Meleq is the Lord of Storms, and he is very angry."
Their guide's reply was barely audible over the crackle of rain.

"Why?"

"We have been remiss in our devotions!"

As if to confirm this declaration of guilt, a bolt of lightning
struck a nearby cedar. The tree was instantly ablaze and toppled in
a splutter of flames and static.

Hamilgart gave a panicked squeal. "We must make haste!"

He set off again, sandals flopping on rain-slick pavement. Hundreds
of trickles of water came shooting off the slopes, merged to rivulets, to
creeks, to an ankle-deep blanket of rainwater gurgling over the path.

They stumbled after Hamilgart, down the road, past scattered buildings on the outskirts of town, across squares and through narrow
passages, until he finally halted in front of a large house not far from
the city center.

"My home. Please enter."

Without much ceremony he ushered them through the front door
and straight into an inner courtyard. Soaked to the skin, they huddled
under the arcade surrounding the atrium. Rain still pelted down, drops
skipping inches high from a mosaique floor and the surface of a round,
shallow pool.

As the glow of movement wore off, Major Carter had trouble
keeping her teeth from chattering. A heap of drenched tweed, Kelly
next to her suffered no military compunctions and sounded like
a baby rattle. The brim of Daniel's hat sagged over glasses milky
with condensation; opaque discs that made him look as though he'd
pulled down the shutters and gone home for the day. Perhaps not
a bad idea... The Colonel had removed his cap to up the ante in
the hairstyle stakes and was wearing something best described as
electrocuted porcupine. It clashed with a tense face. The only one
who looked wet but otherwise unruffled was Teal'c. Par for the
course.

"Father!"

A loud yell and the patter of bare feet on stone disrupted the
stillness. Barreling down the arcade came a dark-haired, dark-eyed
boy, perhaps nine or ten years of age, in brown linen pants and a
miniature version of their host's colorful robes.

When he noticed the strangers, he skidded to a stop, drew himself
up, and announced in dignified tones, "Mother was worried."

Implying that he hadn't been. Jack O'Neill smiled. So did
Hamilgart.

"I am well, my son. Go and tell your mother that I have brought
guests."

The boy was about to obey when the lady of the house appeared
of her own accord, attended by three servants. Slim and willowy, she
stood half a head taller than her husband and had ancient, wary eyes,
as though she'd heard bad news once too often.

"Friends, this is my beloved wife, Ayzebel." Hamilgart beamed.

She bowed gracefully. "My husband. I am glad to see you back. You honor me by bringing guests."

"Guests who were sent by Meleq himself," he informed her,
swelled with pride. "They came through the Chappa'ai."

Chappa'ai? mouthed Kelly, frowning, but she didn't interfere.

Just as well. If she'd bothered to listen to Daniel, she'd know.
But Sam was more concerned about the fact that Hamilqart knew
the word. She cast a swift glance at her CO, who barely perceptibly
shook his head.

Play it by ear.

"Welcome to our home." Ayzebel studied them solemnly. Then
her gaze arrested on the Jaffa, awestruck. "You are a spirit!"

Whatever Teal'c might have expected, it probably had been more
along the lines of traitor or shol'va rather than spirit. As a matter of
fact, spirit was pretty much the last thing that sprang to mind when
you looked at him.

Now he cocked a puzzled eyebrow and attempted to correct the
error. "I assure you, I am

"Of course he is!" cried Hamilgart. "Meleq would not let those he
loves travel without a guardian."

"Of course he is," the Colonel echoed firmly, drilling Teal'c with
a stare that said the error suited him just fine.

"Then we are doubly honored." Again Ayzebel bowed. "Please
permit me to show you to your rooms."

"Thank you." Water dripping from his hat, Daniel performed
an obeisance that would have looked good at a Japanese business
meeting. "The honor is ours."

The boy had remained in the background during the introductions,
but now he bounced alongside his mother, curious and eager. "Can
I come?"

"Sure you can." Head tilted, Jack O'Neill grinned at him. "What's
your name?"

"I am Luli," he proclaimed importantly and flopped into a bow.
On the upswing he added, "Heir of Hamilqart."

his is the market," Luli explained unnecessarily. He was
wearing Jack's ball cap and had been appointed their guide for
the morning. So far he'd taken them around the stadium, the race
course, and the city temple.

Everywhere they'd encountered friendly, smiling people who
seemed genuinely pleased to see them. Probably the reason why
Jack allowed Luli to drag him off down a narrow covered alley
and towards an exotic symphony of smells that advertised the
proximity of at least fifty different food stalls. Daniel watched the
pair disappear in a throng of locals and grinned. The only thing
missing was the penny whistle, otherwise Jack could give the Pied
Piper a run for his money. How he did it was a mystery, but the fact
remained that he'd got himself instantly adopted by yet another
kid.

Maybe it'd draw him out a little. Daniel's memory wasn't exactly
trustworthy these days, but Jack seemed different, more remote.
Not unfriendly, and of course the jokes kept coming hard and fast,
plating the armor, masquerading as extroversion and hiding the
man. He'd sat in that tent at Vis Uban claiming they were friends
over a chasm of distance. Not coldness, not something you really
could put a finger on. Just... distance. Of course Jack had never
been outgoing, not as far as Daniel recalled, but this put a whole
new spin on self-contained. Sam and Teal'c simply accepted it; in
fact, they'd warned him off. You didn't have to be a rocket scientist
to figure out that something had happened and they refused to tell
him. Kinda like walking into the briefing room and getting that
hearty welcome from General Hammond: Dr Jackson, this briefing
is classified. Was he part of SG-1 or wasn't he? Whichever, Daniel
was unwilling to let it slide. Letting stuff slide wasn't in his nature,
that much he did recall. Except, he had a hunch that Jack would be
a tad more difficult to crack than the General.

"They off on a mission or something?" Sam had fought her way
through to him.

"Looks like it. I think Jack's about to get a crash course on local
cuisine."

She laughed. "You're saying he needs rescuing?"

"Nah. Sea urchin's supposed to be a delicacy."

"Sea urchin?"

"Little black prickly things that are a pain to step into."

"How do you eat them?"

"Carefully?"

"Very funny, Daniel." She looked around, taking in the sights
and sounds of the bazaar. "Amazing what a difference sunshine
makes."

Wasn't that the truth? Last night's dinner had been a pretty
awkward affair. Hosts slumping into dejection at each thunderclap
tended to make the guests a bit jumpy. By morning it had blown
over, though, and Hamilqart's mood turned to exuberance. He'd
gushed about rising suns and good omens and hastened into town
to apprise something called `the Synod' of their arrival.

The town was similarly buoyant now. A sea of colors flooded the
market, stallholders were praising their goods and asking fantasy
prices, prospective buyers loudly begged to differ, the bass boom
of portly men mingling with the soprano of shrewd old women.
Hoots of laughter and snatches of music from a tavern somewhere,
and the scents of perfume, leather, clay, and spice.

Sam pointed at a tightly packed row of stalls selling textiles in
all shades of violet and pink. "Fashion district?"

"Kind of," replied Daniel. "Phoenician is derived from the
Greek word for purple. It's because they'd figured out a way of
using the extract of purple sea snails as dye. Seems like these guys
imported the idea."

"Yeah. Except, we still don't know how they got here in the first
place."

However they'd got here, they sure as hell weren't afraid of
Jaffa, which probably was a hint. Daniel's gaze drifted to Teal'c
who stood near an intersection of two alleys, produce and jewelry.
He was keeping a watchful eye on Dr. Kelly, planted like a
breakwater amid milling shoppers and sketching Punic/Phoenician
street life into her notebook. More than one passerby bumped into her, too busy smiling and bowing at the Jaffa to pay any attention
to where they were going. Every now and again whispers of spirit
could be heard. A woman in a silk robe held a toddler up to him.
With that ferocious baring of teeth he called a smile Teal'c obliged,
murmured something, and briefly placed his hand on the child's
head.

"Beats having folks run from you screaming," muttered Sam. "I
guess we'd better round them up and find Luli and the Colonel."

Two minutes later they were headed towards the food stalls,
Teal'c shooing a meek Professor before him. Over breakfast he'd
informed her that he was, indeed, an alien. Ever since she seemed
convinced that Nowlin' Mad Murdock had somehow morphed into
B A Baracus and treated him with the utmost caution.

The missing pair hovered near a stand that sold seafood.
Furtively spitting small black bits of bristle, Jack was trying to look
ecstatic.

"Ever had fresh sea urchins, Professor?"