Buoyed by his contribution, Elizabeth shot him a quick look of thanks. To borrow one of John's expressions, it was time to throw for the end zone. She faced Cestan directly, holding his gaze. "You and the Nistra were once a unified community. Wouldn't you like to show them how wrong they are about you? Wouldn't your world be better if you had access to all the adarite you need, and you could stop looking over your shoulder for raiders? Wouldn't it be the will of the Ancestors to see their descendants coexisting and thriving on the world they fought so hard to protect?" Her nails dug into her palm as she tightened a desperate fist. "You can make all those things happen if you'd just step back and listen to each other!"
There was a long pause, during which she replayed in her mind everything she'd just said, wondering if she could have done better, done more.
At last, Cestan turned sharply away. "Enough," he said. "This ends now."
Elizabeth closed her eyes, utterly drained, and said a silent prayer.
"Where are we going?" Dantir struggled weakly to extricate himself from Teyla's grip. "Let me go! Why will you not let me fight?"
"You can do more for your people by helping me," Teyla told him shortly, guiding him through the mayhem of the battle. It was a challenge to keep a firm hand on the boy's arm while keeping her stun pistol at the ready, but she'd managed that and found an opportunity to `lose' Dantir's whip besides. She'd steered them away from the front lines and now searched with some urgency for Galven's headquarters. If the minister was not willing to believe the Lanteans' claims about the effects of adarite, she would show him direct evidence.
"Where is Ronon?" asked Dantir suddenly, twisting around to look for his hero. "He was here-?"
"Yes, he was," Teyla replied, summoning her frayed patience. They had seen the warriors closing in on Ronon as they'd fled. That was more than enough for her to surmise what had happened to him-and what might happen to him now. "Do you recall how he protected you?" She received a nod. "What do you recall after that?"
After a moment's thought, Dantir gaped at her, bewildered and clearly scared. "I don't know," he confessed. "It's blurry, like a dream. Why is it blurry?"
"That is because you began to use the whip, as Ronon told you not to do. It took your memory from you. Do you see at last why the whips are dangerous?"
She realized upon seeing the misery in his eyes that she had spoken too harshly, letting her own anxiety bleed through. He was little more than a child, after all, and this was not his fault.
"I am sorry," she said, softening her tone. "You are not to blame, and you need not fear what happened. It is over now. Nothing will be blurry again so long as you avoid the whips and the ore used to make them."
From then on, she loosened her hold on his arm, and he did not try to run.
They reached the rear of the formation, such as it was, and were confronted by a scene almost as terrible as the battle itself. All around lay the wounded: some pierced by arrows, others laid open by blades, still more bearing the awful burns of the whips. The air was choked with painfilled moans. Overwhelmed medics, likely those miners considered too small or weak to fight, attempted to tend the injured with what little knowledge and supplies they had. Dazed soldiers stared at nothing, as if struggling to comprehend what had happened to them.
Teyla increased her pace, wanting to spare Dantir the sight as best she could. The young man remained silent, and she knew he had already learned far too much this day.
The Nistra didn't appear to have a command post in the traditional sense. Galven was sequestered inside a tight ring of hunters, one of whom blocked Teyla's path with a bow across her body.
"No one disturbs the minister," he said gruffly.
"Everything that has occurred today should disturb the minister," she fired back. "I come with an explanation and a plan. Each moment we delay costs another life. This one is on your head."
She took advantage of his hesitation and pushed past with Dantir. "Minister Galven!"
The Nistra leader glanced over at her but quickly returned his attention to the soldier reporting to him. Undeterred, she walked up and placed herself squarely within his sight. "Minister, I am Teyla Emmagan. We met at the beginning of the treaty talks."
"I remember you, warrior Emmagan." Although she might have imagined it, there were more lines visible around Galven's eyes and mouth than before, and he moved more slowly, as if aged by defeat. "But I have no time for the fanciful claims of your people when my own are being so savagely beaten."
"I know, Minister. I have been among your people today. I have seen how they struggle bravely to achieve the impossible."
"It should not be impossible." Galven's frustration boiled close to the surface. "We have the strength of numbers-"
"And yet your forces cannot focus on the smaller objectives necessary for a successful campaign, only the larger goal." Teyla chose her words with care, as she would get no other chance at this. At the same time, neither could she afford to be subtle. "There is a reason for that: the adarite. Dr. Weir tried to explain how it hinders the mind. Will you listen if the story is told by one of your own?"
The minister's gaze fell on Dantir, who shrank back, no doubt intimidated by the leader of his people. "You have something to say?"
"It's all right," Teyla assured the young man. "Tell him what you remember of the battle."
Dantir twisted the tail of his shirt between his fingers. "I wanted to use my whip," he began tentatively. "Ronon and Teyla told me not to. They used their light weapons to fell many Falnori-"
With a sharp hand, Galven cut him off. "You fight alongside us?" he asked Teyla, looking rather taken aback by the idea.
"Not to pass judgment on the Falnori, but to protect our benefactors," Teyla answered. "When Ronon and I were in need, your hunters aided us. We could not stand by while they destroyed themselves. Please allow Dantir to finish. This is most important."
At her urging, Dantir spoke up again, his head sinking to his chest in shame. "I wanted to believe Ronon, but I had been given an honored whip, and I had to try it. I don't remember triggering it. I remember nothing more until after Teyla pulled me away."
"The adarite took his memory, as it has done to all your people-slowly for the miners, more suddenly for the hunters today." The urgency Teyla felt began to slip through into her tone, and she did not stifle it. "Dantir does not remember that my friend was dragged away before his eyes. Ronon protected him and was taken by the Falnori because of it. Do you still doubt our sincerity?)
Galven's shock had only increased as she continued to speak. After a moment, he asked quietly, "You have risked yourselves for our people?"
He seemed in awe, more affected by their actions than by anything she'd said about the adarite. In a.jolt of comprehension, she realized that they had been addressing the issue the wrong way. The Nistra had split from the Falnori chiefly because of their failure to protect one and all from the Wraith attack. The hunters, excepting Dantir, had fully trusted her and Ronon only after they had shared in the work to be done. These people understood and valued deeds over words. By standing with them in battle, she and Ronon had earned respect. She intended to use whatever influence she had gained as best she could.
"I have, Minister," she replied. "And Ronon has done more. He sacrificed himself to allow Dantir and me to escape, and he may have paid for it with his life. He acted, as I do, because we believe this war need not continue. Your people rage against an enemy which has not wronged you in the manner you think. They fight to defend a commodity, not knowing that it harms them. They are not yet lost, but they desperately need someone to guide them."