A deep pain drew Lisera’s attention back to Aiden. “I’m sorry,” he said, gently wrapping her leg again. “The pressure should keep the swelling down, but it needs to be X-rayed and set properly.” His words confused her, until he added, “Maybe we should take her back to Atlantis and have this taken care of.”
“You would do such a thing for me?” The brief surge of relief that swept through her abruptly fled. She bit her lip and shuddered, aware of the merchants’ eyes. Balzar’s expression gave her warning. One man or many, the choice was hers. “Balzar speaks true. I have no coin, nor even crops or goods to pay.”
“Yes, you do.” Teyla pulled a large bag from her shoulders and, reaching inside, withdrew a small packet. Handing it to the apothecary, she added, “This is our payment for your kindness in allowing us to remain here while we wait for our companions. Brew it as a tea to help the pain and bleeding of childbirth.”
The apothecary offered a toothless smile. “Such tea is always in great demand.”
“That was unwise.” Balzar’s eyes narrowed and he stepped back. “Such acts rarely go unnoticed.” Casting a warning look in Lisera’s direction, he pushed past the smirking warriors and stalked off.
“I am curious,” Yann said, sidling across to join them. “What sort of payment could a slip of a girl like Lisera have to offer?” He withdrew a red fruit from his pocket and bit into it.
The fruit sounded sweet and crunchy. Since escaping the Citadel and fleeing into the forest, Lisera had eaten nothing more than wild berries, birds’ eggs and a few fish she’d managed to trap in tidal pools. It was then that she saw something in Yann’s gaze which differed from Balzar’s. Yann looked at her as a merchant might appraise goods that he approved of. Then his eyes took in Aiden and Teyla’s strange weapons. Not having any understanding of what this meant, but fearful just the same, Lisera blurted, “What payment I can give you, I will.”
“Well,” said Aiden, packing his medicines away. “Our arrival accidentally set off your alarms. So really, the least we can do is make sure you’re okay.”
Teyla made herself comfortable on the ground, her back to the apothecary’s store of goods, the weapon resting lightly in her fingers. “Lisera, could you tell us of your world? Among my people, stories are believed to be a worthy trade item.”
Yann went to speak, but Aiden said, “I’d like to hear it from Lisera.” His smile reminded her of her brother, in times when they had shared a secret from their mother.
Shrugging, Yann squatted on the floor beside them. “I will fill in any details that Lisera might miss.” He bit into the red-fruit again, and Lisera stared longingly at the juices that flowed down his jaw.
“And your price for this would be?” Teyla inquired.
“A story from Atlantis?” Yann replied, pulling a cloth from his jacket and wiping his mouth. “Two stories, and I would forego the ale promised to me by Major Sheppard.”
Teyla’s eyes danced with amusement. “It seems a fair trade. Well, then, Lisera, perhaps you might begin by telling us of Dalera.”
Looking up to the first of the teaching windows, where Dalera was giving the laws to her people, Lisera swallowed hard. Balzar was right. They had blasphemed, and were now paying with their lives.
Chapter Five
John wasn’t quite sure what he’d expected from the Enclave, but if first impressions were a reasonable indication, it was a temple rather than a place of residence. Stepping out of the transport, they entered a large expanse of polished stone floors and ornately carved pillars. The basic design had all the hall-marks of Ancient architecture, but the actual structure and furnishings were more like the lovechild of a dark Gothic cathedral and a Scandinavian stave church.
Soaring windows lined the walls of the long chamber, with animal skins and battle-axes hung in decorative displays, but what caught his attention was the absolute quiet compared to the marketplace. There wasn’t a soul in sight. “Are we here to meet the other Chosen?” His voice echoed along the empty hallway, which added to the temple effect.
Kesun handed John another Shield from within his robe. “As is your birthright.”
“Um…thanks.” Accepting the artifact, John noticed that Rodney’s face was undergoing an amazing set of calisthenics. He felt a momentary flash of sympathy for the scientist. They’d just been given a couple of pieces of potentially vital technology, with a philosophical price-tag that was apparently pushing a bunch of McKay’s many buttons.
With a restrained bow of assent, Kesun added, “The arrival of visitors from Atlantis has long been anticipated. You will be most welcome.”
So the fact that they weren’t Ancients wasn’t a big problem. That was good to know. Rodney was fumbling with his pack, attempting to withdraw a notebook while still holding on to his Shield. John didn’t envy whichever lab assistant would get the eventual pleasure of transcribing the chief scientist’s chicken-scratch handwriting. Technology — you don’t know what you’ve got ‘till it’s gone.
Experimenting, he hooked a loop of the Shield’s metal setting through a clip on his belt. It seemed secure enough, so he plucked its companion out of Rodney’s awkward grip and fastened it likewise. The other man offered a ‘hmpf,’ which was as close to a sign of gratitude as John could reasonably expect. “Lead on,” he told their guide.
Kesun escorted them into another chamber where there was considerably more activity. Sort of. The half-dozen occupants of the room were — what was the politically correct term for it these days? Ah, screw it. These guys were old. They looked like contemporaries of Moses. John’s initial suspicions about the Chosen being power-hungry despots-in-training were already taking a hit.
“I bring good news, Father,” Kesun announced grandly, his arm sweeping out to indicate the visitors. He pulled off his helmet and rested it on the worn wooden table. Its silvery wings glinted in the light cast by a massive log fire at one end of the room. “The Shields did not warn of a coming attack. They instead foretold the arrival of messengers from Atlantis! I believe that they may be able to aid us in our time of need.”
Aid them in their time of need? If these Chosen were expecting him and Rodney to somehow help them solidify their position, they were in for a rude awakening. John knew as well as anyone that upsetting whatever balance of power existed here was a recipe for disaster.
The man that Kesun had addressed as ‘Father’ had to be pushing ninety if he was a day. He sat at an oblong table with the others, his shoulders stooped so far forward that John wondered if the table was holding him upright. Milky blue eyes peered out from underneath a bushy set of snow-white eyebrows, sizing up the newcomers. “Forgive us our surprise,” he addressed them in a feeble voice. “It is only because you are not quite what we expected.”
Man, if he had a nickel for every time he’d given this explanation. “We do come from Atlantis. However, we’re not Ancients… Ancestors.” John raised his voice when a few of the Chosen looked as though they were straining to hear.
“But you are of the Chosen,” one of the others pointed out with a slight wheeze.
“We come from a planet called Earth. It’s where the Ancients went after they left Atlantis. My name is Major John Sheppard. This is Dr Rodney McKay.”
Distracted by the carved inscriptions on the heavy timber walls, Rodney offered a noncommittal nod of greeting.
Kesun’s father processed this information, the proverbial wheels in his head clearly working overtime. “You must also be Dalera’s children,” he declared.
John wasn’t entirely confident of that, but contradicting the man would probably be bad form. “That may be true, in a way. In any case, we’d like to learn more about her.”
Surprise resulted immediately from that statement. The old man’s brows knitted into one solid furry mass. “The smallest child knows the story of Dalera. How can it be that you do not?”