Yes, I know, a short chapter. But I do think this is the correct chapter breakup

Ophrenet lounged on the couch, with one hand plucking green grapes from a small table beside her; with the other hand twirling a small necklace. A slave stood behind, fanning her with a palm leaf.

Well; the body was Kianna's right now; it didn't much matter when they were resting.

Being lazy.

Resting. Come on, we were in the lab all morning.

Three days and no more progress. And what is your plan for when we figure it out? Can you arrange for the transport of all these symbiotes?

Maybe not, but—

"Your Majesty!" Nike had entered the room with some fanfare. Netty still got the sense that whenever Nike said "Your Majesty," it was with some sort of disdain, but if the Goa'uld hated it so much, she would have done something about it, right? Instead Nike had set herself up as a second-in-command, of a sort, and though Netty would have promoted someone else instead, it was her honest opinion that nobody else here was even remotely competent. The Fates were okay, but they always moved as a group, and had to be treated as slightly disabled. They were better assigned guarding her palace, although she had to be honest, she hadn't really given them that assignment, one didn't really give the Fates assignments. They just did things. At least they seemed to be somewhat benign so far, if creepy.

"Visitors from the city of Aram are here to see you," said Nike.

"Show them in," said Ophrenet, taking back control.

"The Fates will not allow them to enter. They are human."

Yesterday, she had sent some slaves unaccompanied over the pass in order to bring back the scheduled food delivery from Aram. This had caused a bit of a stir; since no human was supposed to be able to permanently leave the Veiled City, and there was far too much chance one of these unsupervised slaves might escape to report on the secrets of the Goa'uld. In order to pacify them; she'd put Marian in charge, and assured the Goa'ulds nobody would run away. Today that party had evidently returned, with company.

The rule about no humans in the court had even less practicality behind it. Netty rolled her eyes. "Come on. Do you see Ashtoreth anywhere? Tell the Fates…" she licked her fingers. "Don't make me get up."

Nike departed, keeping the expression on her scarred face unreadable. Moments later, a familiar woman entered the throne room.

It was Circe, the High Priestess of Hecate. She was wearing her deep-blue chiton with gold and bronze.

Netty sat up more in surprise than anything else.

The priestess seemed to be alone, though Netty supposed the others could be waiting outside. "What are you doing here?"

Circe's eyes radiated distaste. "I have been sent of my mistress Hecate to congratulates thee on the news of thy new queenship."

Ophrenet immediately recognized, of course, that she was being insulted by Hecate's failure to personally appear, but rather sending a human slave in her place. And Circe was a slave; a high ranking slave, but a slave nonetheless.

"What does she mean by sending you?"

"Hecate has taken the liberty of sending me in her stead. She believed it would not be objectionable, seeing as your new methods are… unorthodox." Circe stood tall and looked Ophrenet directly in the eyes, as though the reproach had come directly from the priestess herself.

I don't like her. I don't like the way she looks at us.

Netty, they ALL look at you that way.

Yes, but those are Goa'uld. We can't do anything about them. This is a human slave and she's not even afraid of me, although she has every reason to be.

She never has been. She works under Hecate, criticizing you as a new entry to the pantheon.

That was then. This is now. I'm a Queen now.

Netty, are you JEALOUS? Of Hecate? For commanding more respect than you?

Well, just—what? No. I just think—I think she's up to something.

What?

I don't know.

"Have you the offerings?" Ophrenet asked.

"Of course, Your Majesty. We have brought the food, drink, and grain offerings to the city as you have asked."

"I see. Then I shall send back word to Hecate to thank her for her generous gifts of food, drink, and her personal slave."

Circe's mouth opened. "I'm sorry?"

"You do know that no human who enters the veiled city is allowed to leave? Surely your mistress knew this when she sent you. And you have objections to the changing of tradition, do you not?"

Circe's eyes widened. "I cannot stay here. I—My mistress—"

"Nike!"

Circe spoke quickly. "It is not the changing of tradition to which I object, but the reckless methods by which you have overturned—"

Ophrenet flashed her eyes, standing up. "What kind of way is that to speak to a queen?"

Nike re-entered the throne room.

"Lock her up in Ashtoreth's jail."

"Yes, your Majesty."

"You're making a huge mistake," spat Circe as Nike and another slave manhandled her out of the court.

NETTY! Why are you doing this? What if you ARE making a mistake?

Stop! I don't want to hear it right now.

There's no time like the present! This is my life too, you know! Can't we talk about this?

What's there to talk about?

Throwing people in jail because you don't like them? This is going too far—

"Your Majesty," said Nike mockingly, though her words were respectful. "What would you have me do with the next human sacrifice?"

Netty drew a blank. They'd sent another one?

"He has been brought from Aram, on schedule as originally planned for Ashtoreth's next feast."

Ophrenet sat back down and arranged herself prettily, with her feet up on the couch. "Hmm… Bring him to me."

It took them a while. She was eating grapes again when they brought the man in. He shuffled in because his feet were chained together; of course they likely hadn't been while he was riding the donkey, but the prisoners weren't usually brought up to the palace this way. There was still a black bag over his head. Nike stood behind him, holding a rope attached to the prisoner's wrists.

It took her a moment.

Well, we obviously don't do human sacrifice anymore. We'll have to figure out how to get rid of him quietly. Maybe just make him one of the kitchen slaves or something. I'll cancel Ashtoreth's feast. Maybe.

…Netty. You should look at him.

Hm?

I really think you should look at him.

There was something funny going on with Kianna. "Nike," said Ophrenet. "Let me see him."

The other Goa'uld reached up and ripped the bag off the man's head. His hair stood on end with an unruly fuzz. There was a cloth gag stuffed in his mouth and secured with a tie.

Netty started choking on her grape.

Jonas Quinn had blinked away the bright light, and was staring her with a raised eyebrow.