The story continues! Many of you will be pleased to know that there is nothing dark in this chapter - but things are getting clearer!

I've had some problems the last few days with posting and also with not having chapters come up. Hopefully it's okay now - I'm curious if others have experienced this as well?

Again, thanks for the wonderful comments. I love that people are seeing where I'm going - or are being patient through all the darkness.

"Well, if he is to be our salvation we had better make sure he survives – and he won't if we don't get him warmed up. He is freezing and he looks as if he is near death. Get the blankets child – and the rags. We must cover him but I fear we will ruin our few blankets by putting them directly on him. He is filthy." The old woman wrinkled her nose as she leaned over the man they had rescued. She could not even tell how old he was or what he looked like, he was so covered in dirt and muck.

Eranna ran and collected the few rags they used to make their clothes and the thin blankets that were all they had to keep them warm in the winter months. She handed them to the old woman and stood looking down at the stranger.

"Don't just stand there girl! Go and heat some water. I will try and clean him and then see to his wounds." She began to place the rags over top of him. When she had covered as much as she could she then lay the blankets on him, trying to warm him up. No sense looking to his wounds yet – it was impossible to see where the dirt ended and the blood began.

As the two women waited for the water to heat (thank heavens water was the one thing they had in abundance – it ran down freely from the mountains) both women looked at the man lying in front of them. He looked like a skeleton and had obviously been much abused.

"He must have done something to really anger Frotush. I have rarely seen someone arrive in such bad condition", the old woman noted. "I certainly hope you made a wise choice in helping him Eranna. He may not live long and even if he does he may be more of a burden than he is worth. How will we ever feed him? We barely have enough to survive ourselves."

"If we had left him to die we would have been no better than Frotush and his evil ones. Mater, I am sure that he will bring something good to us." As she spoke she reached down and gently touched the man's face.

Even lying there unconscious, it was as if Jack knew that he was finally with someone who was not going to hurt him – that he was with someone who cared. As Eranna touched his face he turned his head, trying to gain comfort from her touch.

"The water is ready child. Bring it here and heat some more. I fear we will need much water before we are done."

So began the lengthy task of trying to clean the man they had rescued. Starting with his head, they took rags and tried to wipe of the dirt. It was so encrusted that it took many tries, and many changes of water. They could not hope to clean his hair or his beard so, taking a knife, they cut off as much as they were able. As they cleaned him they began to see the lean, angular plains of his face. They could see the bruising, the shadows under his eyes, and the white parchment like look of his skin.

"He looks so ill, so gaunt. The poor man. How could anyone treat another so?" Eranna had seen many arrive hurt and, in her time here had seen much suffering and even death – but it never ceased to upset her.

Slowly, carefully the two women worked, only uncovering as little of the man at a time as they could so as to keep him warm. They washed his arms, so torn and hurt that even when mostly clean they were black but from bruises, rather than from the dirt. They had to clean under the manacles on his wrists where the skin had been rubbed off – in places so deep the bone was showing. As they cleaned his chest they saw the mark that many of them carried - although it somehow appeared larger and deeper than any of theirs.

The worst, however, was his neck. Under the metal collar it was severely burnt. Bloody, blistered and weeping with pus it looked awful.

"This must pain him terribly. I have never seen anything like it. Do you know what this is, Mater?" she asked pointing to the collar.

"No, I have not seen this either. It is clearly some of Frotush' evil but how it works I do not know. I do not see any way of removing it. I will see if I can get a bandage underneath and around his neck." Taking one of the clean and dry rags, she carefully placed it under the collar to try and keep the burn as clean as possible.

It was many hours later before they had finished just the front of the man. Shocked when they had seen the further marks on his body – including the bruising around his groin, they decided to leave the rest until morning. They were exhausted and feared that anymore might harm the man.

"He needs to drink something and to eat", Eranna said. He was so emaciated that they knew it was imperative that he be given nourishment as soon as possible.

"I do not believe he will be able to eat solid food for awhile. I expect he wasn't fed. Let us see if we can wake him to give him some broth."

Together the two women tried to wake Jack. They knew that a simple touch would not do it – he had not woken up at all during the time they had bathed him. After a few futile minutes, Eranna finally bent over and spoke directly in his ear.

"Please – you must help us. We need you." Little did she know that this was the one thing, above all others, that would get through to this man. His life was about looking after others – this was the only thing that would bring him back to consciousness.

Responding to the words spoken in his ear, Jack slowly opened his eyes. He didn't know where he was, or why, but somehow he was needed. He had to move, to get up – but all he could seem to do was look, nothing else seemed to be working.

At first, all he saw was the ceiling of the cave above him. He stared at it curiously for a couple minutes. Okay, I'm in a cave – but why, he asked himself. At that moment, a face suddenly appeared in front of him. It was an old face, wizened and cracked with age. Whoever she was she had lost most of her teeth and her hair was long and greasy – definitely not the beautiful angel he had hoped to wake up to.

"So, you are awake stranger? About time. We rescued you from the mouth of the tunnel where you had been left to die. We hope you will not be more trouble than you are worth!" the old woman spoke roughly to him. Somehow, however, he knew she was not as harsh as she sounded.

"Here, you need to eat. Eranna is going to help you to sit and then you will drink this soup. Don't spill any – it is too valuable."

Confused by her words – and who or what Eranna was, Jack continued to stare at the old woman. He then felt a hand reach behind his shoulders and managed to turn his head slightly (too much and his neck began to burn). There was the angel, was his only coherent thought.

A young woman with long, black hair and huge blue eyes – which reminded him of someone or something - although for now he couldn't think who that was – smiled at him.

"Please, you need to sit up. I'm going to help you – just relax." She was clearly stronger than she looked because she seemed to be able to lift him up without much help and he was not a small man, he knew. Little did he realize that it was not difficult, as he had lost so much weight.

"Here, drink this. Be careful and only take a small amount." Holding a wooden cup to his lips she gave him a small sip. He was almost frightened to open his mouth. The last thing he had been given to drink had been so foul tasting that he had immediately spit it out. The guards had given him nothing else.

Looking at the young woman he suddenly got the feeling that he could trust her. So, he opened his mouth and took a small sip. It tasted wonderful – hot and slightly salty. It was not until he swallowed that he remembered. As the hot liquid hit his throat he began to choke and cough. The pain was horrible. He desperately tried to be silent, knowing that the least sound would send him back into torrents of pain.

As tears fell from his eyes the two women looked on in consternation, not understanding what was happening.

They did not know about his throat so couldn't understand why he appeared in such pain. What was the most unnerving, however, was the fact that the man didn't make a sound. Anyone else in his position would have gasped or made a comment.

"What is wrong? The soup is not bad. Was it too hot? Did it burn your mouth?"

Jack looked at the two helplessly, not knowing if he had the energy to explain. Finally, he pointed to his neck, hoping they would understand.

"Yes, we saw the burns. Mater cleaned and bandaged them. But I do not know what you mean – do you not want the soup?"

Jack realized she hadn't understood so this time, he opened his mouth and pointed to his throat. The young woman just looked at him but the older one reached out and grabbed his chin.

"Open again – let me see." Looking in his mouth she made a small sound – one which he correctly recognized as one of sympathy.

"His throat is burnt as well. The soup must have hurt him terribly." Turning to Jack she smiled gently – which looked rather odd with the lack of teeth. "I am sorry, we did not know. I will cool the soup but I'm afraid you must drink it. You will die without liquids or nourishment. For now we will give you nothing solid, but you must drink."

Nodding, knowing what she said was the truth, Jack waited until the soup cooled. With trepidation he again took a drink, aware that it would hurt but recognizing he had no choice. As he took tiny sips, trying to lessen the pain, he thought to himself that the little old woman reminded him of Janet – they were two of a kind – although Janet was much prettier, he laughed silently to himself.

After he had finished the soup Eranna helped him lie back down. He was exhausted and still unsure about where he was or what was going on. For now, he would let these kind women look after him. It felt so good to be cared for, to be touched with kindness and above all, to be spoken to as if he mattered.

With these pleasant, but confusing thoughts running through his head, he drifted off to sleep, warm and comfortable for the first time in weeks.

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They remained in the kitchen for almost an hour before one of the large slaves returned. He informed them that his name was Brotius and he was head slave in the house of Pere Frotush.

"Come, I will show you where you will live. Before we go you will need to know some things." Looking at the new slaves he considered them. He hoped his master knew what he was doing – they looked an unlikely trio.

"You are very lucky. We have a fine master – a good man. As long as you do as you are told you will be treated fairly and well. You will be well fed and well clothed. As slaves of Pere Frotush you will also be treated with respect in the town. No one will dare harm you or interfere with you." The man then looked at them fiercely

"But know this – if you do not do as you are told, if you bring trouble on this house, it will not be Pere Frotush that you will have to fear. The other slaves and I will make sure you are punished! We will allow no one to cause trouble. Our lives are good and we want them to remain that way." He then motioned for the newest slaves to rise and follow him.

Just off the kitchen was a tiny room with a mattress on the floor, and a bowl and pitcher in the corner.

"This room will be for the housekeeper and maidservant – you are to share. Drogan will bring another pallet for sleeping. Once the lights are out you are to remain in your room. Wandering through the house is not permitted." Leaving Sam and Maya in their room (or closet, snorted Sam to herself)

Brotius then led Daniel down a long hallway. Looking into the doorways they passed he realized this must be the slaves' quarters. Each room held a pallet on the floor as in Sam's room – but most of the rooms also had a variety of other objects and personal possessions. Some of the rooms even looked quite nice and comfortable – Brotius obviously spoke the truth. The slaves in this house were well treated.

As Daniel was shown to the last room – almost identical to the one Sam had been given – he thought about the situation they were in. Although on the one hand he was glad they hadn't been sold to a brutal master, on the other he realized this situation might make it even harder to escape. Here they didn't have to worry about guards, or a harsh master – no, they had a whole houseful of slaves who would watch them and ensure they didn't leave. He knew that this could be worse than if they landed with disgruntled or harshly treated people.

Brotius did not leave him to get settled (although what he had to settle he didn't know – he had only the clothes on his back) but led him into the main part of the house.

"Pere Frotush has asked to see you. Be sure you treat him with respect. You are not to look him in the eye and do not speak unless spoken to. Obey whatever orders he gives you."

Nodding, knowing there was nothing else he could do for now, Daniel followed the large slave. Arriving at a finely carved door, Brotius knocked but then immediately entered without waiting for a reply. He was very clearly a trusted slave, thought Daniel.

Motioning for the new slave to follow, Brotius walked into the room. Daniel looked and saw that they were in a library filled, from floor to ceiling, with books. Well, if this were any other time or place I'd think I'd arrived in heaven, he thought.

"What, what do you want." Queriously asked the old man, seated behind a table looking through a dusty old book.

Without hesitation Brutius replied.

"You wanted to see the new slave, Master, the one who is a scholar."

Looking up from his book Pere Frotush noticed Daniel for the first time.

"Yes, yes. You may leave Brotius. I will call when I want you."

With a warning look at Daniel he left the room.

"So, you say you are a scholar. What do you study?"

"Well, uh Master, I study people and history and languages. I am what they call,, on my wo- er – in my town, an archaeologist. We study the past by looking at the things people left behind."

"Interesting, interesting. So – do you speak other languages?"

"Yes. I speak many and read even more."

"Very good. I have a number of books I am unable to read – you will take them and translate them. Start there." He pointed over to a pile of books in the corner of the room.

He then put his head down and continued what he had been doing when Daniel arrived.

Okay, he said to himself, this is odd. I guess he wants me to start now. Walking over to the books he picked up the top few and turned around, wondering where to sit. As it looked like the old man had the only chair he walked over to the wall and sat down, leaning up against it. Taking the first book he opened it to see if he could understand the language.

Hours later, his back – and backside – about to break, Daniel put down the last book and sighed. The old man continued to read and hadn't glanced up even once as far as Daniel could tell. So far he had found that he could read about half of the books. They were written in variations of a number of earth dialects. He figured that the people on this planet must have been brought here by the Goa'uld at one time in the distant past – although he was curious why there seemed little evidence to their presence.

So far, none of the books was very interesting, mostly treatises on farming or 'household maintenance'. He had learned all about pickling yarmuks – whatever the hell they were. From the recipe he didn't really ever want to find out.

He wished he knew what exactly Pere (he decided to call him that for short) was studying – or why he wanted a scholar. Did he simply want the books translated or was there some other purpose? He hoped he'd be able to find out soon – although as talkative as the man was it might take a while!

At that moment the door opened and in walked, of all people, Sam, carrying a tray with some kind of hot beverage and a plate of – was that cookies? I guess it's the local equivalent of tea time, he thought. God, I could use some myself!

"Excuse me Master", Sam spoke softly, "I have brought you your Chola and something to eat."

Pere looked up and squinted, obviously confused as to who this person was.

"Who are you?"

"I am your new slave, Master. You purchased me this morning." Daniel was quite impressed with how calmly Sam spoke. He knew her well enough to see that deep anger was boiling below the surface at having to pretend this subservience. He knew it was for Jack's sake, more than their own, that she was able to continue this farce.

"Oh yes, I remember. The scholar said you were a good housekeeper. Well – bring it over – let's see if he was right."

Oops, Daniel thought, I hope to God she didn't make those cookies or this may be the shortest slave gig in history!

Setting the tray on the table in front of their new 'master' Sam then stood back as he tried a sip of the Chola – kind of like coffee she had discovered – and a cookie.

"Mmmm. I see the scholar spoke the truth. These are very good – the best I've had. What is your name?"

"I am called Carter, Master"

"Carter? No" he thought for a moment "I do not like that name – you shall be ….. Azulea, much prettier."

"Sam", he whispered, warning her with a shake of his head. It had looked for a minute as if she were going to tell the old man to jump in a lake of burning naquada for daring to change her name.

"Yes, Master", she said between clenched teeth.

"Well, you may go – you must want to prepare the evening meal. You are a good cook – I chose well." He then bowed his head and continued reading.

As she walked out she gave a glare that clearly told Daniel of her feelings on the whole affair. Passing him she bent over and whispered.

"Come to my room when you can – we need to talk."

Nodding he sat back down and continued to read – dearly wishing he could have some of that Chola.

A couple of more minutes and he decided it was time to get some more information. If this man truly was a scholar, like him, Daniel knew he would want to talk about his research. Jack always claimed Daniel could go on for hours about his 'rocks'. God, the thought of Jack suddenly made this all seem real – and made a feeling of despair come crashing down.

He cleared his throat, hoping that would draw the attention of the old man. When that didn't work he tried coughing. Still nothing. Eventually he began to sound as if he were dying, choking and hacking.

"Are you ill?" asked Pere finally!

"Uh no, Master – just a little dust from these old books – got caught in my throat."

"Oh, I see. Well here – have some Chola, it will help – you are bothering me."

"I'm sorry Sir – and thank you – I will have some." Yes! Finally some coffee, he groaned to himself in ecstasy – or the nearest thing to it. By this time it had grown cold but it still tasted like nectar to Daniel. He hoped it had some caffeine in it – he needed a kick.

"Uh Master Sir?" he asked cautiously, knowing he wasn't to speak.

"What, what is it? What do you want?"

"Um, I'm sorry, Sir, I don't mean to bother you but I have translated some of these books. Also – I was wondering if you would tell me what you are studying?" At this Pere frowned and Daniel quickly began speaking, praying he hadn't overstepped himself.

"It is only that if I have an understanding of what you are looking for I can be of more assistance – knowing what is important. These books", he continued, pointing to the ones he had translated, "are nothing but manuals on farming and housekeeping. I'm sure they are not what you had in mind."

This fortunately seemed to get through to the old man who nodded.

"Yes, that is true. I will tell you then what I look for, although I expect you will not understand." Pere turned in his chair and began to speak. Quickly the explanation turned into a lecture.

Geeze – I see what Jack means, thought Daniel. The man was clearly obsessed – and would most likely go on forever. Daniel sat back against the wall, prepared for a long session. Jack, you have my sympathy, was his last thought before turning his attention to Pere Frotush.

It was late in the evening by the time Daniel had a chance to make it to Sam's room. The slaves had an hour or two before bedtime that was their own. The new slaves could not yet leave the house, but were allowed to freely move about the slave quarters and the kitchen area.

When Daniel arrived at the women's room he saw Sam lying back on her pallet looking tired. It had been a very long day.

"How did things go Sam? Great job on the cookies, by the way. Pere ate them all!"

"Maya deserves the praise, not me. I managed to make the Chola after she showed me how. If it wasn't for her I don't know what I'd do. We had to make dinner for the whole household and then wash all the dishes. Where's my dishwasher when I need it."

"You have someone who washes your dishes", asked Maya. "I did not think you had slaves where you come from."

"No – not that kind of dishwasher", Sam looked over at Daniel wondering how to get out of this one.

"Maya – where Sam and I come from we have machines that do the dishes. We definitely don't have slaves. That's illegal. We believe that everyone is equal."

More surprised about the idea of a machine that could wash your dishes than the fact that they didn't have slavery, Maya stared at her companions in wonder.

"I would like that!"

"To be free?"

"No, to have a dish .. washer."

Daniel and Sam both laughed, needing a release from the constant tension they had been under.

"Well Maya, maybe we can get you one, one day."

"So Daniel, did you find out anything from Pere Frotush?"

Suddenly looking very serious, Daniel looked at her.

"Yes, I did. Sam - I think I know who those visitors were who appeared years ago through the Chappa'ai. And I think we may have a way to defeat Frotush!"