Vekken flipped the weapon around his hand and thrust it like a pike. Teyla dropped low and made a foot-sweep; she did it with little art, throwing an easy attack at the adjutant to see how he would react. Vekken dodged without effort and stabbed out again. The staff nearly caught the tip of her ear as the Athosian moved into a parry-strike-parry combination.
"Heh." The man pivoted and twirled his weapon overhead. "You are quick. More a warrior than a leader, I would warrant."
"And you are more a soldier than a royal aide."
Teyla tapped her sticks against one another and gestured for him to try again. From the corner of her eye she glimpsed movement; some of the guardsmen were gathering near one of the cloister pillars to observe them. She imagined they would be taking bets on the outcome.
The next attack came with frightening speed, and Teyla understood that Vekken had been toying with her at the start. She took a blow on her right forearm that sent jolts of fire up her nerves, and by impulse she hit back with a double strike that met Vekken's ribcage on either side. He grunted and dropped back, an instant of surprise on his face, then gone.
"I'm curious," said Teyla, licking her lips. "The men in Daus's court, the barons like Noryn and Palfrun; you clearly have a greater martial skill than they, yet you seem to have no fiefdom of your own. Am I wrong?"
Vekken shook his head, shifting his stance. "No, you are correct. But I serve the Lord Magnate willingly. It is my place." He struck and Teyla parried again. "My family has always been tied to the fortunes of the Fourth Dynast."
She shifted and caught the staff in a tight grip, locking the two of them together. The muscles in her arms bunched as Vekken pulled against her. "Because you are Wraithkin, yes?" Teyla panted. "Does that forbid you from being a lord yourself?"
And there she saw a moment of unguarded truth from Vekken, the briefest flash of what was beneath his studied mask. Teyla took the distraction and hit him, scoring three quick blows. He struck back, the curve of the hook clipping her chin. Vekken tried to snag her with the hooked end and she barely skipped away.
"My clan has served as the protectors of the Magnate's line on Halcyon for generations," he hissed, "and I gladly continue that tradition, as will my children, and their children."
Teyla shook off the shock of the impact. "How… How can you be so sure that the Fourth Dynast will reign in the future? In a society like this, there will come a time when they will be unseated. It is inevitable."
"Lord Daus's authority will not be overcome. No-one on Halcyon can match his power."
She went back to a guard stance. "His army, you mean? How does he have so many Hounds at his command, Vekken?"
The adjutant did not answer; instead he came at her leading a storm of blows, and it was all Teyla could do to parry them away. She felt herself pushing back toward the walls, losing ground to the furious assault. He brought the staff down hard and she caught it in the cross of her sticks. "Yield!" he spat.
"Yield!"
"I will not!"
There was a commotion at the cloister, and then Ronon darted from the shadows, his pistol in his hand. "Didn't you hear her? She said no!" Mason and Bishop trailed behind him.
Vekken stepped away and gave Teyla a gracious bow. The glint of anger in his eyes was gone. "Of course. Forgive me. I sometimes become too caught up in the moment." He smiled at Dex. "Just a little good-natured sparring, Runner, nothing else. I did not intend to cause you undue concern."
Ronon gave Vekken a hard look, and then with exaggerated care, he holstered his particle magnum. "You okay?" he asked.
Teyla collected herself. "I am uninjured." Although that wasn't precisely true; she would have some interesting bruises by tomorrow.
Vekken replaced the staff on the rack. "Perhaps you might also consider a match of skills, Ronon Dex." He was casual with the offer. "I would be interested to see if you are as quick to defend yourself as you are the honor of Teyla Emmagan."
Ronon took a warning step toward the adjutant. "Any time you like-"
She put a hand on the Satedan's arm. "Ronon," she said firmly, "did you want something?"
Dex threw Vekken one last glare and then nodded. "Sheppard's back."
"Oh," noted the adjutant. "I shall have the conveyor station notified to have a train ready for him."
Ronon shook his head. "He's brought his own ride."
Teyla looked up as a familiar high-pitched whine reached her ears. Bishop pointed into the morning sky. "There he is, two o'clock high."
From out of the blue came the drum-shaped form of the Atlantean shuttlecraft. It circled overhead and then came to a halt before dropping gently to a landing in the middle of the training square. Teyla's mouth curled in amusement at the obvious surprise on Vekken's face.
Sheppard left Beckett to his people and stepped from the back of the ship. He instantly caught the vibe of dissipating tension in the air and glanced at Staff Sergeant Mason. The SAS soldier made a small gesture with his hand, and the look on his face said no problem, everything's cool.
Vekken was peering at the striated hull of the craft. "I've never seen an aerodyne like this. It has no rotors or engine intakes." He considered the ship for a moment. "This is Precursor technology, yes? Rescued from the ruins of Atlantis, no doubt?"
"Something like that," Sheppard replied, refusing to be drawn. "We call it a Puddle Jumper. We use it to travel through the Stargate when we don't feel like walking."
"Puddle… Jumper?" repeated Vekken. "That seems a curious appellation. For a vessel that travels through your Stargate, would not Gate-Ship be a more fitting name?"
"Have you been talking to McKay?"
Teyla looked over at him. "How did you get the Jumper out of the Gate Hangar?"
"I asked nicely," said Sheppard. "We had a little moment when they pointed all those gun turrets at us, but eventually they retracted the roof and let us go."
Ronon nodded at Beckett and his medical team. "What are they doing here?"
"A fine question indeed," said Muruw, approaching with a pair of guardsmen at his flanks. "I receive word via telekrypter that you have brought your own warship into our territory, and then discover it here, inside the very walls of the Magnate's home!"
"It's not a combat vessel," the colonel replied, "not exactly, anyhow."
"I see no weapons clusters," admitted Vekken, "and I am sure Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard would not be so foolish as to return to Halcyon with violence in mind."
"And yet he brings more soldiers with him," snapped Muruw.
"We're not military!" said Carson, stepping down from the Jumper. "Far from it! I'm Dr. Beckett, chief medical officer of… Of our team."
The minister's face crinkled in bewilderment. "Healers? Why have you brought healers? Is someone unwell? I assure you that the Fourth Dynast has excellent apothecaries in service to its courtiers."
"I'm sure that's true," said Beckett, "but we're not here for you and the rest of the lords of the manor."
Sheppard stepped forward. "What Dr. Beckett is trying to say is, we'd like to offer some help to your people. The folks down in the lower city."
"The commoners?" Muruw blinked.
"That's right. Carson here is about the best, uh, healer, this side of the Pegasus Galaxy. He might be able to assist with this `bone-rot' problem of yours."
`That aliment is no problem of mine," retorted the minister. "Only the dissolute, the lower orders suffer from it."
"Aye, well," broke in Beckett, "perhaps I can do something about that."
Muruw was about to protest further when Vekken spoke out. "What a generous offer, Lieutenant Colonel. I'm sure the Magnate would see the value in such an altruistic gesture. Don't you agree, First Minister?"