Dozens of men and women in regal finery and over-decorated military uniforms drifted here and there, pausing to bow as Lady Erony passed them by. A small legion of servants moved among the islands of chattering people, serving food and drink. Sheppard's nose wrinkled with the mingled scents of a hundred cloying perfumes.
The Atlantis team collected arch looks and outright stares from the Halcyon nobles as they followed Erony and Linnian up the long hall. Some of the expressions varied from obvious distaste to guppy-faced surprise. The colonel reminded himself that this was a diplomatic mission now, and he did his best to smile nicely at everyone who turned his way, trying to look pleasant and non-threatening. Still, he couldn't escape the return of a familiar sensation at the back of his mind; the recollection of childhood visits to the house of his elderly Aunt Betsy. A stern and rather unforgiving old lady, every trip to Betsy's house would result in little Johnny Sheppard being paraded in front of his aunt's blue-rinsed sewing circle, who would proceed to criticize everything about the lad and his misbegotten generation. This felt a lot like that.
"My father is the Lord Magnate," Erony was saying, "that means he is the sole authority on Halcyon and her dominions. He will attend momentarily." She swept her hand around. "He sits at the head of a court drawn from the noble families of all the Dynasts."
"And the Dynasts are what, exactly?" said McKay. "Barons and dukes, the holders of fiefdoms, landed gentry, that sort of thing?"
"Quite right," she replied. "Have you a similar manner of governance on your world?"
"Yes and no," said Sheppard.
At the far end of the hall was a raised section with couches and what was unmistakably a throne. Erony stepped up and wandered toward a curtain behind them. "I will return."
"So," Sheppard turned to McKay. "Nice digs, huh?"
"Sure," said the scientist dryly. "I'm just hoping they don't look at me and shout `Orf wiv `is 'ead!"'
"Are you kidding? I think Erony is taking a shine to you."
Rodney colored a little. "Don't be ridiculous!" He paused. "You think so?"
A ripple of raised voices drew Sheppard's attention away. "Trouble…" said Mason in a low tone, drifting closer.
Further down the chamber, two nobles-one in a tan uniform, the other wearing light blue — were degenerating into a shouting match. Both men were stabbing fingers in the air and making angry gestures. Sheppard knew instantly that physical violence was going to kick off between the pair of them in the next few seconds. They each had large swords at their hips and fat revolvers in jeweled holsters; it could turn very ugly very quickly. He stepped forward.
"Colonel," called Mason. "Reckon we shouldn't interfere, sir — "
Ronon gave a humorless smile. "Ten to one he starts a fight with both of them."
Corporal Clarke shrugged. "I'll take those odds."
"Pestilent!" snarled the noble in blue. "You, sir, are a gutless child without the courage of your convictions! I would run you through if I did not think it would dirty the floors of this august place!" He had his hand on the hilt of the sword and it clattered in its scabbard.
I'll be darned, thought Sheppard as he approached, that's what they mean by `rattling your saber'.
The noble wearing the tan uniform bared his teeth in anger. "You dare insult me so under the roof of our Lord Magnate? I will see you dead in the soil and your lands annexed to my fief!" The other man drew a length of bright steel blade from his own weapon.
"Hi there," said Sheppard brightly, interposing himself between the two men. He took their empty hands and pumped them both in a vigorous handshake. "I'm John, and I'm new around here, but I just wanted to tell you two guys what a great planet you've got. I love this palace. It's big, you know?"
"What?" said Blue, nonplussed by this sudden interruption.
Sheppard kept talking, careful to block the path of any potential violence between the nobles. He pointed upward. "And that root? Wow. Just wow. Honestly, that beats the Sistine Chapel hands down, am I right?"
"Now, see here-" began Tan, struggling to regain control of the situation.
"Hey," Sheppard put his arm around Tan's shoulder. "That guy in the painting, up there? Who is he? I'd love to know, `cos I'm a bit of a tourist at heart…" Suddenly he was guiding them apart, out of fighting range of each other.
"It… It is the former Lord Magnate Trahvis, leading the victors at the Battle of the Nine Loops…"
"Trahvis, huh? He was a mean-lookin' fella, wasn't he?"
"Stop!" snapped Blue. "There is an issue of honor here, and I will not be denied!"
The colonel made a conciliatory gesture. "Guys, hey. We're getting along so well here. Let's not spoil it."
But then the man in blue had his sword drawn and the blade hung in the air, a dangerous arc of glittering silver. "Step away, outworlder, or I will gut you as well-"
"You will do no such thing," said a smooth, cold voice. A man clad in the same black uniform as Erony approached them. He had olive skin and elfin eyes, and he walked with swiftness and grace. Something about him sent up warning flags in Sheppard's mind. He wasn't like these two poseurs. He moved like he was dangerous.
The reaction of the noblemen confirmed it. Tan bowed his head and Blue's blade drooped. "There is a issue of honor, Baron Vekken," repeated the swordsman.
Vekken nodded. "If that is so, it will be dealt with in a civilized manner, as the codes decree." His voice hardened. "It will not be dealt with through wanton bloodshed in the Magnate's residence, in front of the guests of his Highness's daughter."
"Of course," said Blue after a moment, sheathing his sword. "I beg the court's pardon. In the heat of my ire, I forgot my place."
Vekken inclined his head and looked to Sheppard. "Lieutenant Colonel, yes? I am Baron Aldus Vekken, personal adjutant to the Lord Magnate. Please, attend me so we may make formal introductions."
Sheppard threw a smile at the two cowed nobles. "You guys be cool, okay?"
Vekken lowered his voice as they walked away. "A word of advice, sir. Only the Magnate or his agents may intervene in disputes in the court."
"I just didn't want to see the party ruined," countered the colonel, "but boys will be boys, right?"
Vekken raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Indeed."
Teyla watched the colonel and the Magnate's man, unable to take her eyes off Vekken. The taciturn adjutant did not meet her gaze once, but she was certain he was aware of her scrutiny. He seemed different to the other Halcyons they had encountered up until now, and in some peculiar way she could not fathom, the man was familiar to her. The realization was unsettling for the Athosian woman and she flattened the disquiet in her chest, pushing it away. Too many things about this place were distracting her, and that would not do. For all the airs and graces these people displayed, the moment of swordplay just now showed her that violence was bubbling just below the surface of their courtly manners. The group would all have to be on their guard, in case the next burst of hostility was directed at a member of the Atlantis team.
Vekken stepped up on to the lowest of the dais's tiers and cleared his throat. When he spoke, it was with a clear and steady accent that carried to the back of the chamber. "Dukes, Barony and escorts, guests and attendants. Give your salute and your recognition to his Highness, the Lord Magnate Ranavar Daus of the Fourth Dynast, Peer of Peers, Magister of the Sovereign World of Halcyon and her dominions, Hero of the Tephite Campaign and the Hand that crafted the Lokrist Accord."
The curtain behind the throne parted and Erony's father emerged, smiling broadly. At once Teyla saw both the family resemblance to the young woman, and to the faces of the heroic figures painted on the ceiling. Daus, like so many men and women here, wore clothes of a military cut, but his differed with the addition of a large cloak and elaborate chains of office about his neck. Thickset but not stocky, the Magnate had the look of a man who had been a formidable fighter in his youth, now robbed somewhat of his power and stamina by easy living and the passage of time.