"You think they'll let us take a closer look?" McKay's voice took on a conspiratorial hush.
"I think we'll have to play friendly if we're going to get the opportunity," Sheppard noted.
Erony came to them and reclaimed her monocular. "You are interested in the dolmen, yes? It is a remnant of a people known as the Precursors, who pre-date all civilizations in known space."
"Yes, we, ah, we're familiar with them too. We call them the Ancients," said Rodney.
She smiled. "Ancients? You do have such charming names for things. Very… Straightforward. The dolmen is a site of some scientific curiosity, although the study of the past is not of primary interest to our learning council." Erony leaned closer, and Sheppard felt himself being edged out of the sphere of conversation. "I must confess to a fascination with these… Ancients, as you term them. Are you interested in them also?"
McKay grew smug. "Actually, I'm kind of an expert. The expert, you might say."
The monorail rocked slightly and began to lose speed. "Highness," said Linnian, "we are a few moments from the Palace platform."
Erony nodded. "Of course." She threw Sheppard and McKay the same bright smile. "We will talk more of these matters later. For now, there is a presentation to undertake."
The steam train deposited them in a glass-roofed station where another honor guard was waiting. They had a small band with them, who played out a longer version of the recorded fanfare that had announced Erony's return through the Stargate. Ronon flexed his fingers and waited for the caterwauling to stop. All this pomp and circumstance made him itchy.
The group crossed through a stone and steel archway and there before them was the High Palace. Dex tilted his head back to take in the whole height of it. The building was at least as tall as the central tower back on Atlantis, but in a strong, dark red hue and carved from huge blocks of stone. It was thickset in design, crested with minarets and crowned by large domes that ended in sharp spires. Gold and silver detail, too far up to see distinctly, glittered in the pale yellow light of Halcyon's sun. At other levels above and below them, walkways criss-crossed leading in and out of the edifice. Stanchions in the shape of lean warrior statues held them up in the air.
"Blimey," said Hill. "That's a palace, all right."
"Those domes look like the Taj Mahal or the Kremlin," noted McKay. The names meant nothing to Ronon, but the other Earthers nodded in agreement. "Interesting mix of architectural styles. There's some Ancient in there as well."
Dex let his practiced soldier's eye range over the building as they approached it. "Not just impressive," he noted, "good tactical design."
"Yeah," agreed Sheppard. "It's well hidden, but this place is as much a fortress as it is a palace."
"Plenty of locations for hard points. Revetments disguised as gardens. Fire corridors from the gun slits in the walls." Ronon looked up. "Any siege force you threw against this would break apart." He glanced at Sheppard and Mason, and saw the same thoughts in their eyes. This was a culture with its roots in warfare; and yet they had seen no evidence of battle or its aftermath. Dex took a deep breath of the Halcyon air, let it fill his lungs. After Sateda, after visits to dozens of other conflictscarred worlds, Ronon knew the reek of war intimately; and yet he couldn't sense it here. The disconnect between the martial manner of these people and this planet, with its sky clear of battle-storms, rang a sour note with the ex-soldier.
Lady Erony hadn't been wrong about the warmer weather here. The team had discarded their parkas and Dex unbuttoned his greatcoat, letting the leather swing open. He became aware of Erony's adjutant close at hand, sneaking surreptitious looks at him.
"Ask me," he said, without looking at the man.
Linnian licked his lips. "You… You are a Runner, yes?" With his collar turned down, the Wraith glyph on Ronon's neck was clearly visible. "I have heard of your kind, but I have never seen a live specimen before."
Dex spread his hands. "Take a good look."
"How have you survived against their stalkers?"
With a flick of his wrist, he drew his particle magnum and held it an inch from Linnian's face. "I'm fast," he said simply.
"Ronon," warned Sheppard. "Play nice."
Dex returned the pistol to its holster and Linnian grinned. "Impressive. I understand the Wraith place tracking implants beneath your flesh-"
"Sheppard's man dealt with those for me," he noted, tapping his shoulder. "Now they don't see me coming. They won't follow me here, if that's what you're afraid of."
The adjutant snorted and ran a hand over his neatly trimmed beard. "We don't fear the Wraith on Halcyon, Ronon Dex. The Wraith fear us."
Ronon listened to the man's bravado and looked away, wondering. Such a statement either made Linnian a fool, arrogant or both. As they fell under the shadow of the towering palace, something caught his eye. On one of the lower walkways, a unit of six soldiers in identical garb were walking back the other way, with a single man in a uniform like Linnian's leading the march. What held his attention was the battle dress they wore. It wasn't the ornate coats and hats of the other Halcyons, but articulated metal plate armor. Chain mail was evident beneath, but not an inch of bare skin was visible. The faces of the armored troopers were hidden behind ornately worked helmets that had been fashioned after the heads of snarling canines. The only things that gave them an identity were streamer-like scarves around their necks. The low breeze caught them, making them flutter like thin flags. The figures walked in mechanical lockstep behind their commander, away and out of sight.
Dex looked up again as they came to the entrance of the High Palace. Doors wide enough to fit a battalion through lay open before them, and it took a conscious effort on his part to stop his hand from straying the butt of his pistol once again.
"Welcome to the Grand Chamber of Audiences," said Erony with a flourish, as they entered a massive ballroom.
Sheppard blinked. "You get the feeling they're trying to impress us?" he asked McKay.
"With monarchies, it's all about the size of your castle," replied Rodney.
"I'll say. You could dry-dock an ocean liner in here." The hall was as big as the Gate Hangar, but it exchanged the industrial look for something that seemed more like the inside of a chocolate box. The ceiling was a huge mural of proud soldiers and pastoral scenes, suspended on thick marble pillars over a floor of wood so highly polished it could serve as a mirror. Between each pair of pillars there were cabinets made of finely worked iron and brass. Some of them were given over to the preserved pelts of animals that were no doubt long dead or hunted to extinction. Others had weapons laid out like artworks, guns and axes and daggers in lethal array. The one that caught the colonel's eye was filled with skulls of different shapes and sizes. Some were small, like the kind you'd find in a rat or a dog, others more obviously feral. There were a couple of downright alien looking ones as well, broad curved things, maws with spiky mandibles and something he caught a glimpse of that looked unpleasantly human.
McKay nudged him and surreptitiously indicated the other side of the chamber. Over there were full size hunter's trophies, huge beasts similar to grizzly bears arranged in mid-roar, wildcats atop fake rocks. "Looks like taxidermy is a popular pastime here," said Rodney quietly. John said nothing. He was looking at the animal heads mounted over the arches. He couldn't see it clearly, but one of them looked a hell of a lot like… Well, like a Wraith.