Resurrection I - The Ties That Bind Chapter 1, a stargate: sg-1 fanfic

Part I

Ties that Bind

It was a sad but undeniable truth that he couldn't completely break away. Even with the universe as his oyster, ready for him to explore in ways he'd never thought possible. Even with everything he'd been offered he couldn't let go of the ties binding him to the lower plane and the people he considered his family.

Above all to the man he had wanted to leave behind the most. The man he had dreaded leaving the most.

Daniel could tell, by now, when the dreams started. Whether it was always the same dream or a merry-go-round of them he didn't know.

Jack slept on his side, his lean form relaxed and tranquil, hard lines gone from his face, his mouth slack and slightly open, long fingers loosely wrapped around the edge of the rough, woolen blanket or flat on the ground, cushioning the side of his face.

Jack didn't move much in his sleep.

Until the dreams started.

The first sign was his body tensing up; stiffening back, flexing of muscles, his fingers clutching the blanket in a deathly grip or trying to dig into the ground.

Then there was the tossing. From side to his back, then to the other side. Sometimes he'd bolt upright, eyes open but unseeing. Then he'd slump back to the ground, his head turning from left to right. Some nights there were words, harshly whispered, a snatch of breath, hard to grasp.

Jack was a light sleeper, always had been. He had probably learned to be awake in an instant during his time in Iraq. Or maybe it was something they learned in Special Ops. To sleep whenever and wherever they had to, but always alert, always fully awake whenever it was required.

He'd wake when a branch snapped in the bushes or when a stray cat was bold enough to enter his shelter and explore his neatly stacked belongings. He'd wake like he slept then; quietly and calmly. He'd lie still, only his eyes snapped open as he assessed the situation. If there was a cat, he'd hiss at it or throw a pebble. Then he'd slip back to sleep just as silently.

But he never woke during one of the dreams. He never remembered them either. Because if he did, wouldn't he question them? Wouldn't he try to figure out where they came from? Maybe. Then again, maybe not. This was Jack and Jack could be very ignorant if he chose to be.

Daniel reached out to Jack. He always tried. Even though he couldn't touch the other man, he sometimes managed to quiet him with a thought, an image or – perhaps - his mere presence. Not that he actually knew if Jack even sensed his presence.

He wasn't sure what triggered the dreams. Was Jack's mind trying to fight the memory stamp? Or were the dreams a side effect of the stamp? Either way, Jack had too many demons hidden in the shadows for Daniel to know which one was haunting him at nights. However, he had an idea, or three, about their origin.

The moon spilled his pale light over Jack's face that became haggard and haunted during the dreams, but was lax and peaceful again once he got past them.

Daniel 'looked' at the sky, his 'eyes' traveling the clusters of stars on a velvet background. He could feel the galaxy beyond those visible constellations, as it stretched out in the vast universe; just one of many, their edges sometimes overlapping; seamless transitions and yet clear structures. Well defined chaos of planets, asteroids, meteors, nebulas, stars... Novas silently exploding; stars dying and newborn... civilizations falling and rising.

He felt the pull of the universe beckoning him. Yet, he was anchored by the man on the ground next to him.

Above all to the man he had wanted to leave behind the most. The man he had dreaded leaving the most.

Let it go, he thought. It's spilled milk. Let it go.

He had spent time with all of them after he left, had watched them struggle to come to terms with one of them gone. He still felt guilty for making them suffer; each of them in their own way.

He hadn't expected the onslaught of their pain to affect him so much. Maybe he hadn't even expected their grief to be so... raw. So bottomless. Their emotions had come off them in waves and washed over and through him, piercing him like knives.

Acceptance on the surface, anger – directed at whoever or whatever - underneath. Tears and resentfulness paired with hope. Belief that the friend had chosen the path of a warrior's afterlife, mingled with sadness.

Daniel did not fear, nor hesitate, in his resolve to continue his new chosen path. But seeing his friends falling apart, building walls, shutting each other out, had kept him from severing the bonds completely. He had been hurting for them. He still was. Nothing he could do about it. He had found that leaving the lower planes behind did not include shaking off his pain like an unwanted piece of clothing. He had to learn to live with it.

Oma wasn't happy with him. There was nothing he could do about that either.

'One cannot walk the path of enlightenment while his roots remain in the soil.'

He felt her presence by his side, cool and soothing; a blanket made from light and age old wisdom. 'So you keep telling me.'

'Your choice was clear. It still is. Yet, you remain here.'

'It's kinda... complicated.'

'They no longer feel this pain. They have released their burdens in their own ways.'

'They were forced to live like this. Not knowing doesn't change the fact,' Daniel said fiercely. Well, he didn't actually 'say' it since actual words weren't necessary anymore. He could hear her anyway, loud and clear.

'It took away the reason for your lingering, did it not?' Oma hovered even closer now.

'They are not meant to be here. This isn't their life.'

'Perhaps they were sent here for a reason. Every choice we make has consequences, sometimes beyond our understanding. The meaning is often hidden to the mere eye,' Oma lectured thoughtfully. A tendril of light snaked over Jack's face and he turned away, on his side, huddling deeper under the blanket of lamb's wool.

Daniel moved beside her, the color of moonlight. 'Don't start with the candlelight and meals cooked a long time ago.'

'It is one of my favorite sayings.'

'No, really?' He felt like rolling his eyes.

She chuckled, a rustle of wind in the leaves of the bushes. Sometimes she was full of mischief. She liked talking in riddles only to watch others trying to make sense of it. At other times she was crystal clear; saying what she meant and meaning what she said. He was still trying to figure her out.

'They need to heal. You must not linger.'

'And you think they can heal this way. Forgetting everything they were, everything they did. Just like that.' Daniel's light ghosted over silver hair, way too long in the back. Unruly. Tamed by a strip of leather during the day.

Jack sighed, let out a puff of air, and rolled on his back again.

'They have endured much. You all have. It is not only your departure that has weighed on them. Not by far.'

'I know.' The list of failures and loses was endless. His leaving only added to a mountain of trash.

'Leave them be, Daniel,' Oma whispered. 'You cannot return to that path. Leave them to continue on theirs as you must continue on yours.'

'They need to go home,' Daniel insisted, feeling strongly about this. 'They'd never choose this if they were given a real choice.'

'It is not for you to interfere.' She ascended into the sky, hovering above him. 'Come. I have things to teach you. You must learn and grow.' A tendril of light linked with his and he was pulled away from the sleeping figure tucked under the blanket on the ground.

Reluctantly, he followed her lead, torn by the need to stay and the wish to go. He could still feel his roots in the soil as he trailed behind Oma to seek out new worlds.

ooo

The clay pit wasn't far from the ruins, an hour of hiking tops. He walked along the edge, Thor following rather reluctantly, trying to stop here and there to mouth at tufts of grass. Jack tugged at the reins, dragging him away from the green and towards the slope into the pit.

The area around the pit was mostly sand, quartz pebbles and slate. Small ravines filled with raised ground- or rain water crossed the many pathways clay diggers had trodden into the soil.

Further down the loam was close to the surface. Diggers, wind and rain had formed a bizarre landscape of frayed outer edges, turrets of clay, plateaus and valleys. The colors varied from gray to brown with veins of red and purple.

He untied the two wooden buckets from Thor's bags and pulled the small shovel out from its pouch. "You stay here."

Jack never bothered to hobble the mule when he came out here. The pit was steep and if the stupid beast decided to clamber into it the leg ties might cause him to stumble and fall. He and Thor had been together for a while now. Jack knew where to find him if he wandered off too far.

The shaggy, gray mule turned its head and blinked, his large black eyes giving nothing away. If anything he looked bored.

The buckets were tied together by a wide leather strap. Jack slung them over his shoulders and wedged the shovel under his left arm. "Just... stay in sight," he muttered.

Thor turned his back on him and ambled over to one of the water holes.

Jack clamored into the deeper areas of the pit until he reached the nearest clay slick and started digging. The clay was just right down here; not too gritty, not too soft, and it came off easily in chunks. Jack worked fast and steady, fresh layers of dust and muck soon covering his hands, arms and legs. He had already been down here once this morning at dawn.

Now he had more than enough clay to work with for a while, and plenty to sell to Hadis. Tourist season was coming to an end so this was his last trip out here until next spring.

Hadis kept telling him to store larger stocks of clay and pottery. "You could dig a couple of weeks in the fall and work on your pottery over winter. That way you'd be all stocked during summer," he said from time to time. "You could work double times on the beaches if you don't have to throw pottery during the season. Make more profit. Buy a house."

Jack had no use for profit or a house.

He carried the heavy buckets back up the slope to where he'd left Thor. The mule was no where in sight. Circling his sore shoulders – digging up clay gave him all kinds of twinges and pains – Jack went over to the small water hole to clean his hands from the worst of the mess.

That done he put two fingers into his mouth and whistled; a shrill sound echoing through the deserted pit. Most diggers wouldn't show up until much later. They had other chores to do first, like tending to their families and houses, watering their fields or vegetable patches before it got too hot.

He whistled again and then watched as Thor took his own sweet time returning from the small patch of green Jack had dragged him away from earlier. He showed up at the edge of the pit, ears hanging to either side of the mulish head. It gave him a rather mopish expression.

"Some time today would be nice," Jack prompted.

Thor shook his head and shuffled closer. Sometimes Jack thought the guy he'd bought the mule from last summer had duped him by selling him an old animal for a young one. At other times he was certain Thor's slow gait and sullen attitude was a scam to annoy him and an excuse to be as lazy as he could get away with once he'd found out Jack wasn't going to beat the crap out of him.

Jack tied the buckets back to the bags and stashed the shovel. Thor seemed to look even more sullen under the weight he'd have to carry all the way into town – for the second time in one day.

"Better be grateful you don't have to carry me on top of that," Jack grumbled, tugging at the reins. "C'mon. You've got some more work to do today."

Thor's ears came down another notch.

They hiked the edge of the clay pit, then turned into a well worn sandy path away from it. Dry grass and crippled trees stretched out to their right, down to the bluff. Beneath it was the ocean, a pattern of endless dark blue with whitecaps until it met the sky at a distant horizon.

On their other side were the foothills of the clay crater, red and brown, laced with strips of grass and scrubs. Ahead of him Jack could make out the ruins, dark against the sun. Stone skeletons of spires and the theater, decayed buildings and the large black monolith. The path changed from sand to rubble and then to cobble stones. Now they were on the main road which was probably as old as the ruins. It led to a crossroad. If he turned left he'd get to the ruins. To the right it wound itself down the mountainside to the town and the harbor.

The main road's cobbles were of different stone and color, being repaired and re-built in parts over the years. Yellow sandstone, red brick, gray slate. Jack and Thor passed some early risers; merchants on their way to the town's train station to pick up new stock, some on their way to the next town to run errands. Some were dragging mules with them, some had wagons loaded high with barrels or bags. Thor eyed his mule-mates with disdainful boredom. But then he almost always looked that way.

Behind the next sharp turn the first roofs came into view; red and gray clapboards. Small, old houses were built into the mountainside along the road.

A lanky and dust covered boy surrounded by a small herd of bickering white goats skipped uphill, waving his small hickory switch. "Jack! Hey, Jack! Watch out for Masala – she's waiting at dada's barn for you."

Jack winced. "She's not givin' up, eh?"

The boy was all laughing brown eyes and cheeky grin. "Never. She wants to cook for you tonight."

"Thanks for the head's up, Paolo. I'll try sneaking in the back."

"Not a chance." Paolo stopped and the goats started cluttering the road, bleating and boxing each other with their short horns. "She's set on you."

Jack looked down at his clay and sand covered pants and boots. "Oy. She has weird taste in men."

"She'll make you take a bath. In a tub. With soap!" Paolo looked sympathetic

"Yeah? Maybe she'd better make you take a bath. You look pretty ripe to me," Jack snorted.

"No no, I'll be gone allll day." Laughing, Paolo waved his switch and continued skipping up the mountain, his goats following suit.

Masala was Paolo's big sister. Twenty-something and pretty to look at. But then a violet rose was pretty to look at, too. Yet, when you touched it, it stung. Jack preferred not to get stung. Besides, Masala could have been his kid for all he knew. He wasn't exactly sure what year he'd been born in, but he'd been around long enough to acquire all that gray hair, bad knees, bad habits and cynicism.

Hadis seemed to be mildly amused by his daughter's antics, but at least he didn't exactly support her. And why would he? Jack wasn't marriage material. She had to get over him and find someone her age. Someone who cared about a house and enough profit to feed lots of babies.

The further they went down the mountain, the more houses they passed. Women and children were setting up yard shops for the day. Hand woven carpets and table cloths were hung out for by-passers to see. Pottery, cheap jewelry and colorful shawls were put on tables. Some were selling souvenirs like teddy bears wearing t-shirts with 'Welcome to Ba'th Town" printed on them. There were postcards of Ba'th – the town dipped in glorious sunlight with blue and green water and sand-yellow beaches.

Once tourist season was closed people would go back tending to their day-jobs. Some would close up their houses and travel inland to work on their families' peach and apple farms. Some would do what Hadis did – dig for clay stock all through fall and make new pottery during the winter months. Teachers, who had taught tourists to surf or taken them out with their boats to fish and swim all summer long, would go back to school, actually teaching the local upper-class kids how to read, write and do simple math.

Jack descended further into the valley and its net of alleys and streets. The main road cobble turned to tarmac, black as licorice with the odd goat, horse or mule dropping here and there. He was on the market road now. Shops, cafes, horse stables and banking houses were in the process of being opened. The bazaar was on one side, the non-bargaining shops on the other. If he continued on here north he'd get to the hotel district with its fancy bars, six story buildings, wide, groomed gardens and big balconies with view on the ocean. The hotels and some of the non-bargaining shops had electricity. When Jack stayed up by the ruins at night he could see the hotel lights twinkling like fireflies while the rest of Ba'ath was more or less in the dark except for the light house fire at the harbor.

Jack led Thor across the market road into the bazaar and down a narrow alley. After a while he wandered into the district of warehouses where wealthy merchants and pottery makers worked and stored their goods and the clay they'd bought from diggers. If Hadis didn't want Jack's leftover clay he'd try to get rid of it here. Someone would give him a good price for several bags.

He took a deep breath and smiled. He'd always liked the smells around here. Spices, clay, leather and wood. He passed the saddlery – well known for their saddles and bridles but also shoes, purses and all kinds of leather goods. The smithies were right next door; the fires already going strong. Jack could feel the heat radiating from there as he walked by. Huge muscled men covered in soot worked here. Not the kind of fellas you'd want to mess with.

Jack left that area behind as well and was soon back in small streets where the warehouses became mere barns and makeshift huts or sheds.

This was where the yard shop people and beach sellers dried their own clay and stored their goods. Many of them lived here, too. The beach sellers were almost the lowest end of the food chain. If you were lower than a beach seller you were either a begger or a thief. Even the whores ranged somewhere between the yard shop people and craftsmen like smithies, fishermen, saddlers, pottery makers and clay diggers.

Here, in this lowliest part of Ba'th, the barns and open sheds reached almost down to the water. Instead of sandy beaches or the neatly paved and presentable harbor, there was a small cobbled walkway along the shore. From there old, wooden piers criss-crossed the water. Small, shabby boats were tied to rotten poles covered with seaweed and shells.

The smell of gutted fish and burning garbage coming form the far end of the land that reached into the ocean like a long, small lance, wasn't too bad because there was always a light breeze coming in from the sea. But it reeked of poverty everywhere around here.

The walkway by the water was full of potholes.

"Watch where ya going," Jack said, grabbing the reins a tad shorter. Not that Thor gave a damn about anything Jack said. He was finding his way just fine. It was just something Jack did without thinking; talking to the mule and being cautious.

The walkway turned sharply to the left as they continued on it.

He let his eyes wander down to the piers and back to the dark alleys. If he wanted to avoid a run-in with Masala, he needed a diversion, and fast. He had almost reached Hadis's small barn.

He found his rescue in form of a sneaky little bug hiding in the dark, narrow lane between two sheds, hastily counting a handful of taler. Jack blocked the way out with his body and leaned over the bowed head to get a better view on what the boy had in his hands.

Within seconds the skinny kid jumped, turned around and Jack swiftly caught the small hard fist aimed at him with one hand. "Whoa, Mikele! It's me."

Mikele wasn't impressed. "Stupid! Sneaking up on people like that!"

Jack leaned against the brick wall, still blocking the way out. "Just as stupid as counting your money out here in the streets."

Mikele, a red haired pre-teen with more freckles than anyone Jack had ever met, shrugged. "It's early. Not many people up yet." Then he opened his other hand, showing Jack what he had. "Found a purse at the beach. Tourists are so careless. I have almost enough for a decent meal. Just," he sighed, "one more taler and I could bring mama a chicken to cook for dinner." He peered past Jack at Thor and his eyes lit up. "You need someone to sieve your clay, Jack? I could do it. Half a taler. I sieve your clay, yes?"

Jack bit his lip, pretending to think about it. "It's a lot of work. I've got two more buckets at the barn that need sieving. You sure you're up to it?"

"Yes! You know I can do it."

"Might take you a while to sieve all that. And you better do it properly. I'm not gonna pay for sloppiness."

Mikele's freckled face darkened. "I'm not sloppy!"

Jack knew that. He had paid the boy for working the clay before, but it couldn't hurt to mention it. He dug into his pockets and came up with a coin. "All right, here's the deal. I'm gonna pay you half a taler extra if you go ahead to the barn right now and do something for me. I need to... uh." He pursed his lips, then shrugged. "All you have to do is tell Masala I'm not showing up today because I've gone to the beach. When she's left you come back here and let me know."

Mikele gave him a gamey grin. "Ahhhh, Masala is after you again."

Jack winced. "Ye-ah. You gonna do it or not?"

The boy held out his hand and Jack dropped the coin into his grubby palm. "What shall I tell her if she asks questions?"

"You don't know anything, just that I went to the beach."

"She'd want to know what beach."

"You have no idea," Jack said, taking Mikele's arm and pulling him out of the alley to get him to move. "I'm not paying you more for making small talk with her. Scoot."

"Women always ask questions!"

"Oh, for... tell her I was in a hurry." He gave the boy a little push to the right direction. Then he cajoled Thor into following him in the small space Mikele had been hiding in. There was barely enough room for both of them.

"She's gonna make you marry her one day."

"Get outta here," Jack growled.

The boy laughed and took off.

Jack propped his back up against the brick wall. Thor started pushing his nose against his chest, then mouthed at his shirt. Jack pushed his head away. "Knock that off. I got nothing in there for ya."

But of course he had and it didn't take Thor long to find it and nibble at the pocket in question until Jack finally pushed at him a little more forcefully. He pulled out the formerly rock hard, now slobbered on the edges, heel of bread and handed it over. Thor crunched it between his teeth and left more slobber on Jack's ratty, former black, now faded to gray, shirt.

"You're welcome," he grumbled.

He'd have to buy new clothes one of these days. At least his boots were still good since he only wore them when he had to climb into the clay pit. Cleaning the loam off them was a bitch, but that way he didn't have to deal with cuts and bruises from the sharp quartz stones and pebbles.

His green pants, however, were slowly falling apart. They had so many stitched up holes and tears, they were probably only held together by thread and dirt – even though Jack washed them regularly. He should get a pair of leather pants and one of those sturdy cotton shirts most craftsmen wore. Only he didn't have a wife who'd sew for him. He probably had squirreled away enough money to buy good quality clothes, but whenever he thought about it he decided against it, thinking he might need his money stash for something else eventually. So what he usually got were cheap tourist clothes from the bazaar, imported from the big cities, which were supposed to only last one or two summers.

Jack plucked at his slobbery shirt, grimaced and ducked away under Thor's neck to peer out into the back street. Only few men and women were heading this and that way, running their morning errands. But inside the many huts, barns and small grocers was a buzz of activity as people were getting ready to carry their goods to the bazaar, stocking their small vendor's trays for the beaches or getting ready for other work.

The 'Lance' as everyone referred to this strip of land, was a natural border between the lowly Ba'th on one side and seemingly endless beaches on the other. The Lance was a jumble of barns, fishermen huts, grubby drinking holes and at its far end the fire pits where fish guts and other garbage was burned. Swarms of seagulls always hovered there, looking for a bite of fish when it was thrown down into the glowing trench.

Thor was getting bored and started rubbing his butt against the other wall. Probably mites bugging him. Like most mules and horses he got hay mites during the summer. Usually they died in the fall.

Jack returned to his former spot on Thor's other side and stuck his head out into the street facing the ocean that glittered in the morning sun. Across from the Lance, at the far end of Ba'th Town he could make out the lighthouse with its white washed walls. There was the harbor with its tourist boats, cruise ships and the more wealthy fishermen.

The town's council was constantly arguing about the Lance being a sore thumb sticking out between the tourist district and the pretty harbor district. But what could they do? They needed the cheap workers to clean their beaches, dig their clay and sell trinkets to the tourists. And to haul fish and meat in for the hungry mouths of the people of lowly Ba'th and up in the mountains.

More people passed by now, on their way to work or their begging grounds. Masala would come down this way if she had given up waiting for him. Or she could take the back street. Either way Jack was stuck here until Mikele returned if he didn't want to risk running into her.

And he SO didn't want another of those awkward moments. He'd had enough of them ever since the girl had decided she had a crush on him.

What the hell was keeping that boy so long? He didn't worry about Mikele taking his money and run. Those kids might do that with the tourists or the town's upper class people if they had the opportunity, but not with one of their own. There was a code of honor among the people here.

Thor lowered his head and bumped it into Jack's side, almost pushing him to the ground. "Stop that!" He gave the head a hard shove. Thor looked at him from those huge black eyes, accusingly. When Jack turned back to look at the street again, Thor decided to rest his jaw on his shoulder, blowing warm puffs of air into his ear.

Jack sighed, reached up and rubbed the mule's soft nose. "Patience is a virtue. Mikele will be back soon."

As if on cue the boy returned, grinning from ear to ear. "She's gone. I told her you went to Jannah beach. If she wants to find you, she has a long way to walk."

"That's far enough," Jack muttered. "You sure she's really gone?"

"She used the back streets, I followed her for a while to make sure she's leaving," Mikele said, holding out his hand. "That's a lot more than you asked for."

Jack sighed and pulled out another coin. A quarter of a taler. Worth half a loaf of bread. Mikele snatched it from him and grinned.

Jack pointed at the street. "If you still want to help with the clay we better get moving." He tugged at Thor's reins and started walking.

They reached Hadis' small barn only minutes later. Jack tied Thor to one of the iron rings at the back wall and unloaded the buckets while Mikele was already at the pump, working the handle. It always took a while until the water started to flow. Jack carried the clay over and a moment later water was added to it until both buckets were filled to the hilt. Jack went to get another bucket and the stirring poles from inside.

Mikele had worked for him before so he didn't have to tell the boy what to do. He quickly filled the empty bucket with water, too. Then he carried that one over to Thor who stuck his nose in and started to drink.

"Will you come to play with us tonight?" Mikele asked when he returned, taking one of the stirring poles from Jack.

They carefully stirred the clay until it started to mesh with the water and turned soft and mushy. "Sure. I got nothing else to do."

"Jorge's team won again last time because you weren't there. This time we'll wipe the floor with them," Mikele said grimly.

"Jorge has all the bullies on his team," Jack said, eying the gob his clay was turning into.

"Yes! All the big boys. And they don't play fair. So we need you on our team to get even with them!"

"Nah, you just have to be a good team leader."

Mikele stopped stirring and scowled at Jack. "Jorge is strong and big. Everyone on his team is. So they win. I'm not strong and big. No one from my team is. And no one is afraid of us like everyone is of Jorge. Even his own team is afraid of him, I think."

"A good team leader doesn't intimidate his people," Jack said.

"Jorge does and it works," Mikele muttered.

"Jorge is a big, stupid mule's ass."

"Yes, but they keep winning. At least most of the time."

"Keep stirring that clay if you want your money," Jack reminded him. After a moment of silence where they both worked on turning the mush into a slippery mass, he said, "They keep winning because you guys don't work together. You have to put up a front against them. Outsmart them. You gotta learn to predict each other's moves, think up more strategies. And have each other's backs."

"But the smaller kids are scared of Jorge's boys. We do have strategies and such, but you know what it's like. Jorge's guys come running at us like bulls and we scatter apart like pigeons." Mikele sighed. "At least when you're there they play less dirty. But when you're not, they always cheat and foul."

Jack checked Mikele's clay and made stirring motions with his hand until the boy continued with his work.

"You know all about the game you need to know. You just have to make your team believe they can win and they will. And when you lose, don't let that stop you. Give them a pep talk," Jack said.

"We're just too weak. If Jorge's guys foul us we don't stand a chance."

Jack couldn't argue with that. Mikele's players were a gaggle of snotty kids. Oh, they were all fast. They were all skinny but wiry and robust. But Jorge had much older and bigger boys on his team. There was little balance and that wasn't going to change. Those teams had been set in stone from the get go when Jack had first started fooling around with the boys and the ball, teaching them how to play the game.

Curiously enough, they kept playing it regardless of the unbalanced teams. It had become some kind of war over the course of this summer and sometimes Jack wasn't sure it had been a good idea to encourage them to play at all.

"It's just a game," he said with a shrug. "Don't beat yerself up over it."

"You'll be there tonight, yes? You play on our team?"

"Sure. Jorge doesn't need me on his. He's too full of himself anyway."

Jack carried the buckets into the barn and Mikele followed him with the stirring poles.

Hadis, the barn owner, had probably left with Masala earlier, taking their pottery stock to the bazaar. Hadis was a bazaar seller. He used to be a beach seller, had economized and invested cleverly to become a shop owner. He had his daughter and one clerk working for him. His goal was to move his shop to the more respectable areas and have a real pottery workshop instead of just a barn on the Lance.

Jack, who paid Hadis a bit of rent for his share of the space and tools, was sure his friend would end up being a wealthy merchant some day. He also hoped that it would take a while because if Hadis gave up the barn Jack had to either buy it from him or find a new place to work and – in the chilly winter months – to sleep. Not many barn owners were keen on sharing their small space.

Two mesh screened window frames were propped up against the wall next to an old tub. Mikele placed them over the tub, making sure they wouldn't slip off or topple over. They fit perfectly on the tub's edges. Jack gradually poured the clay slip on the screens and Mikele started to scrape and rub it through the mesh wire with his hands, separating clay from debris, rubble and stones.

"Don't you like Masala?" Mikele asked out of the blue, throwing pebbles and quartz chunks into the now empty clay buckets next to him.

"Oh, she's a nice girl and all. Pretty, too," Jack muttered. He watched Mikele work for a moment. "She's a bit too young for me, don'tcha think?"

"Young, yes. But old enough to marry. And Paolo says she can cook."

"So? Why don't you marry her, eh?"

"She's way too old for me, Jack. Young women are always better. They work the house and have babies and take care of you when you're old."

"Now, see, I got no house and I'm not too keen on the baby part. Way too much hassle all that." He gave the dusty red head a gentle knuckle. "Watch that clay, pal! Don't spill it."

Mikele grimaced and slowed down.

Jack carried the clay he'd collected on his first tour to the pit this morning out to the pump and added water, then started the stirring process all over while Mikele continued sieving.

"When you're done clean the screens and put them back, then clean the buckets and put the clay back in," Jack ordered once he had poured the new clay slip onto the mesh screens.

"I know what to do. Do you want me to come back tomorrow to help with the rest of it?"

"That depends. How much?"

"Two taler. I get it into the bags to dry. I clean up, too."

Jack jiggled the loose coins in his pants pocket. He could easily deal with the clay himself, but then he'd have to come in here tomorrow morning and Masala might be here, waiting for him. If the boy took care of the clay Jack didn't have to return until it had dried out completely in two or three days to start on new pottery.

"One taler," he bargained.

"No no no. Two taler."

"One. Take it or leave it." Jack went outside and took off his boots. He cleaned them under the pump with a coarse scrubbing brush to get the mostly dried loam off. When he entered the barn again and put them in a corner to dry, Mikele looked up from where he was still sieving clay.

"One taler, one quarter."

"Deal." Jack pulled the money from his pants. "One for today, one and a quarter for tomorrow. Make sure all the water and gooey stuff is gone before you put the clay into the bags. If the stuff is ruined I'm gonna find you and cut off your ears."

Mikele snorted, but nodded as he came over and took the coins. The kid could buy the chicken and bread for his mama and maybe some candy for his little siblings Mania and Ranja.

"You get the best and cleanest clay ever, Jack."

"I'm counting on it. I'm gonna take Thor to the fields. I see ya tonight at the game." He held up his hand and Mikele gave him a high five, then returned to his work.