"We can help you re-center your economy," she persisted. "You don't have to be slaves to this ore-any of you. It's been the source of far too much conflict over the centuries, and it will continue to poison your relations with each other for as long as you let it."
"Don't be foolish, Galven." Cestan's expression, receptive only moments earlier, was beginning to close down. "You stand in the path of progress."
"I stand for the rights of all Nistra. And I will stand in your path should you attempt to take the mines by force."
Damn. Until this point there had been no overt mention of violence. Elizabeth had hoped to avoid it for a while longer. "No one is suggesting the use of force here," she tried, but the Falnori leader quickly ran over her attempt at pacification.
"Neither am I ruling it out. My people will no longer remain idle as our places of honor are defiled and our allies attacked."
"Save the propaganda for your war-hungry public. Perhaps it will comfort them when their children march off to enact an invasion."
Human interaction was the same irrespective of galaxy, it seemed. Elizabeth had recognized the gradual shift in the leaders' posturing, from outrage to resolve, even as it occurred. For all her training, so far she'd been helpless to sway them from their intractable anger. There could be little doubt now that armies were being readied, and she had no idea what would happen if the two sides met on a battlefield.
By nightfall, the hunting party had amassed a considerable bounty. More than any previous hunt had accomplished, if Dantir's triumphant chatter was to be believed. Ronon's tracking abilities were razor-sharp from years of necessity, but he had to admit that these hunters were skilled as well. Each time someone located a paledon, he or she would give a silent signaclass="underline" right arm extended straight ahead, then bent to tap the forehead. If the animal was in a group, bows and spears were put to use; if alone, Ronon's gun became the weapon of choice, as its effect was louder yet cleaner.
The efficient strategy had netted them almost twenty paledon, which seemed to be as many as ten people could carry. Once they had reached their load capacity, Ilar had directed them to make camp in the foothills of the nearby mountains and transport their game to the village in the morning.
Dantir proved to be adept at building fires, and a circle formed to share a meal and trade tales. The stories felt more fanciful than historical, similar to the fairy tales sometimes referenced by the Earth team. The hunters' earlier suspicion had given way to frank curiosity and openness. Ronon devoured a chunk of tough meat and listened to Teyla recount a legend from her youth, a fable about a young man who showed kindness to an old woman and received great wisdom in return.
He continued to sit near the dying flames after most of the hunters had found places to bed down. Watching the tendrils of smoke weave through the canopy of trees, he tried to remember when he'd started to relax around these people. Trust didn't come naturally to him, at least not anymore; there had been instances in the past of easilywon faith causing harm, either to him or to those he had trusted. It had taken great effort to make himself feel comfortable on Atlantis, let alone consider it his home. Yet, in the span of mere hours on this planet, he'd accepted a place among the hunters, maybe because they'd been so willing to accept him.
Finding a way to use the gate was tomorrow's matter. Tonight they had the bond of a hunting circle.
Ilar sat down beside him, having returned from inspecting the results of the day's hunt. "We are in your debt," she told him warmly. "Your weapon results in a neat kill. Good skins are always in demand for clothing, especially before winter."
"Seems like the least we could do, since you let us join your group." Ronon glanced behind her to where Dantir had finally surrendered to sleep.
Ilar's smile grew fond as she followed his gaze to her son. "All we know of other worlds comes from stories such as the ones told tonight. You must forgive his eagerness. He has never seen anyone like you."
"It doesn't bother me."And it didn't. "You really didn't know what the ring was for? No one's ever come through it before?"
She tucked her legs up underneath her and folded her hands in her lap. "As I said, we do not have many records. If other visitors have come, their stories have been lost."
"What about the raiders-the marauders?" Although he could see her face darken even in the flickering light, he pushed onward. "They came through when we did. For all you know, they may use it all the time."
The hunter hesitated. "We may not be speaking of the same marauders. The rogues who rob our villages come from distant lands on this world. They believe themselves the children of the Ancestors, superior to us and possessed of the right to do whatever they please. We fight them on the occasions when we discover them in the act, but they rarely make the same mistake twice." Her contempt was evident as she prodded the fire with more force than necessary. "The Wraith take lives, and the marauders try to take everything else."
Watching her, Ronon attempted to reconcile the conflict inherent in what little he knew of her people. "You didn't have to trust us," he said. "In your place, I wouldn't have trusted us."
Ilar turned to face him, her features sharpened by the flames. "Our lives are not easy," she replied. "We are aware of this, but we cannot let it shape us or sway our choices. Simple though we may be, we cling to our honor."
He admired her viewpoint, and wasn't sure how to say so. "I can tell."
With another smile, she reached for a folded blanket at the end of her bedroll. "A spare, brought in case Dantir found a way to ruin his. Since he did not, you should take it.
"Thanks. I'll give it to my friend-she could use it more than I could." It occurred to him that Teyla had not lingered near the fire, and he twisted around to scan the area. Locating her, a solitary figure standing next to a massive tree trunk and staring off into the distance, he climbed to his feet. "Excuse me."
By the time he approached, Teyla had summoned a serene expression. Their hosts might have believed it. Ronon didn't. "You all right?"
"Of course. Weary from the hunt, perhaps." Her fingers brushed across her temple before she accepted the blanket he held out to her. "Thank you."
"Thank Ilar."
Teyla nodded. "These are good people. We were fortunate to find them."
"Yeah, we were." He folded his arms. "So why are you over here while they're over there?"
She returned her gaze to the forest and the mountains beyond. "They are good people," she continued quietly, "who know nothing of the Stargate."
The implication was clear. "You're afraid no one on this planet will be able to help us, and we'll be stuck here."
Her eyes flicked to him. "And you are not?"
"I am." Not in the same way, though. That much he could tell just by watching her.
Seeming to understand his unspoken question, she said, "I have never faced such a separation from my people before. There have been times when death appeared likely, of course, but…I truly fear a lifetime spent without them." She held the blanket tight to her chest, looking deeply troubled. "For Athosians, home is defined more by personal bonds than by location. We survived the cullings of our world and the challenges of coming to Lantea because we depended on each other. Even though I now live apart from my people for much of the time, I continue to draw strength from them. The possibility that Athosians will be born, and die, and I will not even know… The loss is unimaginable."
He could think of nothing to say. His experiences had been so vastly different. After a moment, Teyla must have realized that, because she dropped her gaze to the ground in obvious contrition. "Ronon, forgive me. I didn't mean to suggest that this would be easier for you because you were alone for so long."