The Red Queen and Her White Knight
by Freya-Kendra
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- 11 -
Voices slowly came into Daniel's consciousness.
"Sha'vak sometimes brings us new words. I believe he refers to you both."
Pa'lok? Daniel blinked his eyes open, disturbed to see a blurred, golden glow surrounding him.
"How?" That was Janet's voice. Dr. Frasier.
"Ralnet and the Holy Scribe." Pa'lok again. "But there is more to this word I do not yet understand."
"Dr. Jackson?"
Daniel blinked, expecting to find Dr. Frasier bending over him with one of her ever-present penlights. But she wasn't there.
"Can you tell me how you feel?"
Another blink. "Like I was just..." He turned his head in the direction of her voice, the movement awakening the dim sensation of the hard surface beneath his tender skull, "...Hit by another Goa'uld hand device."
She was lying beside him. Yet there was something odd, skewed in the angle at which she appeared. Daniel's confusion grew when he saw she was pinned to a gilded table by two pairs of golden shackles holding her wrists and ankles.
"Do you know where you are?" She asked.
She's standing, he realized suddenly. She was pinned to a wall, not a table, with the tall Messenger, Pa'lok kneeling at her feet.
Only then did it occur to Daniel that he was standing, too. Thankfully, his head was starting to clear.
"P97-654," He answered, finally getting his sense of perspective back in order. He was all too familiar with the drill. Dr. Frasier would be trying to determine how much damage had been done. "This is Sha'vak's ... ship ... or something." He blinked a few more times, the entire story coming back to him. "I'm okay. Really."
"Well," Janet sighed, "Under the circumstances I suppose I'm going to have to take you at your word for that."
"Yeah," He answered with a small smile, "I suppose you will."
Giving his attention to the gold-hued bands around his own wrists, he tugged experimentally.
"Don't waste your energy," Janet offered. "Sha'vak sealed them with some kind of beam."
Daniel studied Pa'lok, pondering the enigma of the tall man's Holy leader. What kind of being was Sha'vak, anyway? If he was a Goa'uld, then why was he in such unkempt health, even if he didn't have a sarcophagus? And if he wasn't a Goa'uld, how could he use their devices?
"What is this all about?" Daniel asked the kneeling man. "Why are we chained?"
Pa'lok shook his head.
"I thought Sha'vak wanted to talk with us. He said we were the holy ones."
Pa'lok nodded. "Yes."
Daniel was more confused than ever. "Is this how he would treat your gods?"
Pa'lok shook his head again. "No. But the god, he says, is locked within. This woman is but the Holy Vessel, as you are the...."
"Yes, I know. The Holy Scribe. So you told me. But..." He tugged at his bindings once more. "Where we come from, we treat our holy ones, god or not, with respect."
Another nod. "We are the same, then."
"How?" Daniel asked a bit louder than he'd intended. His nerves were about as frayed as they could ever be. "This is not respect."
The tall Messenger looked to the ground. "Yes. Forgive me. But as Sha'vak says, the body is but a vessel. It matters not. It is what resides within that should be venerated."
Daniel closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He was tired - so tired of talking in circles with these people, first in Unity, now here. That they had ever managed to come together as a society was starting to appear more and more like a minor miracle.
His frustration eased somewhat when the sound of a chant arose behind him. Curious, he listened to the echoes, concentrating on the cadence of the sound and searching for the patterns of words. He found none. As the chanter drew closer, approaching from some distant corner of the massive room, it became clear that there were no consonants interspersed among the vowels. And though the voice was old, it reminded Daniel of a baby's attempt to imitate what it hears, glorying in the resonance as its ooo's and aaa's bounced back from the ceiling high above.
Unable to peer around the corner of the wall that held him, Daniel followed the progress of the ghostly song with his ears alone, until it finally gained form in the skeletal figure of Sha'vak. The old man glided into Daniel's peripheral view, and then passed quickly by, his gaze focused entirely on Dr. Frasier.
"Ralnet rhe-hu." Sha'vak said finally, bringing an end to the ooo-ing. He took a step nearer to Janet. "Ralnet rhe-hu." Another step. "Ralnet rhe-hu." And another.
Daniel found himself growing unnerved by the ceremonious approach. "Sha'vak," He tried to interrupt. "We came here to speak with you. We want to understand."
"Ralnet rhe-hu. Ralnet rhe-hu."
Daniel was ignored. He caught Janet's eye, and saw that she was discomfited as well, but he could offer her no reassurance as the old man took Pa'lok's place, kneeling at her feet. Twig-like fingers reached upwards, poking at the doctor's robes until he lifted away the slit fabric at her waist. His actions far more gentle than his rough appearance would suggest, Sha'vak tucked two flaps of fabric into two smaller slits, sufficiently exposing the flesh of Janet's abdomen.
"Ralnet rhe-hu," He whispered one, last time before opening his mouth wide and pressing his lips lightly against her.
Daniel realized he was holding his breath as he watched Janet's entire body shudder in repulsion. Yet nothing further was done. Sha'vak merely held his position, open-mouthed as though he sought to swallow something out of Janet's belly button ... as though he expected something to emerge, something destined for his own throat.
Her own mouth struggling uselessly against words that refused to form, Janet turned to Daniel with a silent cry for help.
"Sha ... Sha'vak ?" Daniel, too, had difficulty finding words strong enough to force the old man away. "You ... you don't...." He considered the slits in Janet's robes, and gambled with an impossible possibility. "She is not a Jaffa."
It worked. The hermit closed his mouth, sat back on his heels, and turned a puzzled eye on Daniel.
"There is no Goa'uld in her."
"Hmmfff." Disbelieving and indignant, Sha'vak returned to his open-mouthed position.
"She does not carry a Goa'uld."
Daniel's words seemed to go unheard. Yet Sha'vak did alter his actions. He raised a knotted finger, letting the dirt-black nail delicately trace a small circle around the doctor's navel.
Janet let out an audible gasp as a new, more violent wave of shudders passed through her.
"Sha'vak !" Daniel shouted. "She is not a Jaffa!"
Eyes burning with a madness that reflected both rage and desire, the old hermit spun toward Daniel. "What you know? Hmm? You. Scribe. What know?"
"I ... know much about the Goa'uld."
The eyes sparked in recognition.
"Do you know them? The Goa'uld?" Daniel ventured.
"Goo-ahh-u-old ..." The hermit whispered back reverently.
"Yes. What do you know of them?"
"Gooooo-ahhh-u-old ..." Sha'vak turned away and began rummaging through his back pack as he had earlier.
After sharing a bewildered glance with Janet, Daniel was disturbed to find the old man had taken hold of a Goa'uld dagger. "Sh ... Sha'vak..?"
The hermit ignored him and moved forward, bringing the point of the dagger delicately against Janet's abdomen.
"Sha'vak, wait!" Daniel cried out. "Please, talk to me. Help me to understand. Are you looking for a Goa'uld?"
The withered hand hesitated.
"Do you want to find a Goa'uld?" Daniel guessed aloud. "You want to be a ... a host?"
"Host," Sha'vak repeated. There was a small nod. "Yes. Host."
Startled, Daniel prodded further. "What do you know of the Goa'uld? Have you seen one here before?"
"Yes. I know of ... Goo-ah-u-old." Daniel heard soft sniffing. "In the city. Ralnet. She ... she left me."
"She left you? Sha'vak, did Ralnet take you as a host?"
"Host." More sniffling. "Host. Yes." The dagger moved back to Janet's abdomen.
"No!" Daniel shouted to stay the man's hand. Recognizing the renewed hesitation, he swallowed hard before daring to continue. "Sha'vak," He said more softly. "Don't. Please. Please, just stop. Tell me more. I'm sure we can help you find whatever it is you need. Please. Just put that away. It won't help you."
"Goo-ah-u-old?"
"Not there. Not within her. She is not Jaffa."
"No Goo-ah-u-old?"
Daniel shook his head. "I'm sorry. But we can still help you."
"You know of Gooo-ahhh-u-old ?"
"Yes."
"You must give me. I must know." Sha'vak raised the dagger once more, yet this time he did not bring it to bear on Janet. Instead, he turned to Daniel. "I must know."
The blade held high in Sha'vak's right hand, he moved slowly yet determinedly forward, seeming like the stereotypical psycho- slasher from a seventies low budget movie. A moment later his free hand pulled at Daniel's clothing, deftly ripping both the jacket and the tee-shirt beneath in one, quick, violent tug.
"Sh ... Sha'vak ?" Daniel stuttered. "I don't have a Goa'uld either."
"But you know."
"Yes. I can tell you..."
"Yes. I must know." And the slasher struck, driving his weapon down for the kill.
tbc