"Ul'tak – no. Not at all." I shook my head, "I'm nothing but pleased to call you my friend."
The Jaffa warrior winced slightly as I used the word "friend," as though the sheer intimacy of it were perverse. It was less than the first time I'd done it, but the man still struggled with the idea that I was going to insist upon interacting with him as an equal. He'd countered my friendship offensive with a prolonged campaign of staunchly stoic insistence upon proper protocol with his "god." Our ongoing Cold War of manners showed no signs of abating as he replied to me in a formal reply. "Then, my most honorable Lord Warden whose might protects us all, why have you elected to take the priestess with you but not your First Prime?"
His significant glaze in the direction of the two Goa'uld waiting for me at the entrance to the Stargate laying bare the unspoken question "Why have you turned down my protection given that you are bringing them with you?"
It was a valid question, and one that deserved an answer given how the back-stabbing nature of the Goa'uld effectively guaranteed that one or both of my Goa'uld companions would soon attempt a power grab from me. "I need you here Ul'tak, guiding my armies and leading the war in my absence. I can handle Laurel and Snakey, it's Chronos and Moloch that I'm worried about."
And Titania, but who's counting? I'd elected not to share that particular chestnut with my First Prime given that I didn't intend to be anywhere near Nekheb, thus robbing Titania of her opportunity to do harm. I nodded, "I need to protect my kingdom."
Wait – My Kingdom? When had I started thinking about it like that?
I was a PI from Chicago. I had bills, lots of them, and an unpaid parking ticket. People like me didn't have Kingdoms, outside of the metaphorical type. But then I wasn't people like me anymore, was I? I shuddered, once again uncomfortably reminded of my own inhumanness. I was Dre'Su'Den the Ha'ri, Lord Warden of Nekheb – bound to the power I'd taken in a necromantic ritual of ascension. Was I still Harry Dresden? Could I be?
Something of my thoughts must have shown in my posture, because my First Prime put his fist over his heart in salute and rattled off a verse of scripture to me. "Men are defined by their action, my Lord Warden. I will do what is right."
"I – I trust you to do what is right Ul'tak. That's why I'm trusting you to lead while I'm gone." I was grateful for the featureless mask covering my face. The mirrored black surface would conceal the confliction that I felt when someone quoted the "Word of the Warden" at me.
I always found it comforting when Michael Carpenter had quotes scripture to me. There was something in that calm and permanent devotion that soothed the soul and calmed the body. Though I did not share it myself, I believed in the power of his conviction. While Ul'tak had that same manner to him, the effect was somewhat ruined by the knowledge that the scripture being quoted was just one of a thousand similar out of context blurbs that the priesthood of Nekheb was fond of parroting after hearing me speak them. I often couldn't help but wonder if Moses had felt similarly frustrated wandering the desert, perpetually correcting how the Israelites were misquoting him.
Luckily, visions of Michael's disappointment at the arrogance of making such a comparison quickly robbed me of any ego that might come along with that. The knight of the cross was probably the person I respected the most on Earth, though I suppose the man I respected the most in the galaxy was now a more valid moniker given the circumstances. He would have chastised me greatly for having the arrogance to think of myself in those terms. He would do so gently given our friendship, by my "divinity" would not be something he would treat lightly given his absolute faith in the capitol "G" God of Christianity.
I could probably deflect a bit of the inevitable lecture given that the Metatron blessed my coronation, but I was on theologically shaky ground at best. If he was willing to listen, and that was a pretty big "if." I was reasonably certain my day to day activities as of late violated at least four of the big ten "though shalt not's" by which the Catholic Knight of the Cross lived his life.
Hell's Bells – if Charity Carpenter ever found out he might not get the chance. My best friend's wife hadn't even liked me as a Wizard. I couldn't imagine her treating "newly minted god born from a necromantic ritual enacted at the behest of a fallen angel" as an upgrade. Her reaction struck me as more of the biblical variety. She very well might just grab Amoracchius out of Michael's hands and proceed to the smiting. I would be smote.
"Live through today Harry," I thought to myself as I took the staff offered to me by my first prime, feeling the sudden rush that accompanied contact with the magical artefact. Its surface glowed with a dull blue light from the runes and hieroglyphs I'd carved. It was not the Jaffa weapon I'd used when first I came to Nekheb, but a construct of my own making. The first weeks on Nekheb had been the hardest for me emotionally. I'd lost everything I knew. My friends, my pets, and all of my belongings were a galaxy away and years in the future. I'd spent some time crying in private, but falling apart hadn't been a luxury I could afford.
There were too many people counting on me.
So I took that nervous energy and turned it into something productive – learning and applying the magic contained in Heka's vast library of magical theory. It was slow going, even with the assistance of the librarians to point me in the right direction I hadn't even learned a fraction of what it contained. But I had learned enough to give a new spin to some old favorites.
I'd pulled the hardwood beam from the wreckage of the old city, tearing it from the corpse of a burned-out building. Magical items needed to have a certain gravitas to them, a connection to their wielder and purpose. They were symbols as much as anything else, and I couldn't think of a greater symbol for my own need to protect the people of Nekheb than a physical reminder of how I'd failed to protect so many of them or a better icon for taking actions in their defense. I'd carved and shaped the wood over months, lovingly tending to it till I felt it was the proper size and shape to apply magic to it. I'd never applied magic this complex to my staff before. It would have been expensive, time consuming, and the end results didn't seem that much better considering how regularly I just used the damn thing as an oversized cudgel. My new staff was a work of art by comparison, smoky wood inlaid with gold and gems I'd pilfered from the treasury. Well, pilfered might be an exaggeration considering that they people of Nekheb considered the wealth of the state to be the property of the Lord Warden – but even a year wasn't quite enough time to convince me that the vast treasure rooms of the palace were mine.
The down payment on a city block had allowed me to creature a more stable magical implement than I'd ever had in my life thanks to the glimmering emeralds, sapphires and rubies carved with interconnected magical symbols interwoven through a latticework of the magically charged ferrous bloodstone of the Goa'uld Naquadah.
It was worth a fortune in both mortal and magical circles.
It was probably the most amazing thing I'd ever made in my life.
It was still probably going to end up being used to beat someone over the head as an overpriced cudgel.
I patted Ul'tak's armored shoulder with the hand not holding my staff, the ruby on the foci in my palm clacking loudly against its surface. "Good luck my friend. Don't do anything crazy while I'm out."
Ul'tak arched an eyebrow but declined to comment at that one. "I shall endeavor not to do anything that you would not do yourself, my Lord Warden."
I blinked. "Was that a joke at my expense?"
"No my Lord." Ul'tak replied in dry deadpan. "That would have been rude."
"Stars and Stones, now is when you start understanding snark?" I sighed deeply. "A year of you taking everything so damn literally and it's when I'm leaving that you crack a joke?"
"I follow the example of my Lord Warden." UI'tak's lip quirked. "One must save one's humor for when it best frustrates those around thee."
"Good bye Ul'tak." I laughed. I really shouldn't have been surprised that some of my sense of humor would end up rubbing off on the First Prime. The man spent more time around me than any other Jaffa on Nekheb, and my reputation for having a "peculiar" sense of humor was legendary among the people. Attempts from the warrior race to actually execute jokes that pleased the Lord Warden had thus far been mixed, but they were improving with time. The Ancient Jaffa was basically the only one who really seemed to get it, but the rest were catching up. Laughter bubbled up as I walked the length of the gate room to meet my companions.
To my surprise the priestess Muminah was dressed. She was wrapped in a mess of silk scarves that only partially obscured the view of her skin beneath them, but she was actually wearing something more than her traditional piercings. I chose not to comment on it out of fear that she might strip down to nothing just by virtue of me having mentioned their presence. Perhaps it was one of the internal reforms to the clergy that got passed with increasing regularity as of late. She bowed, apparently realizing my gaze was upon her. She looked up at me through her black tresses, hair grown out in apparent imitation of my own, and said. "Are we to go, Lord Warden?"
"We are." I replied, pulling the page from my pocket and pushing the symbols on the circular device next to the gate before pressing the red stone at its center. The gate groaned to life, spinning about before a whoosh of blue spat out from the gate to open the portal within. I gnashed my teeth, wincing at the magic emanating from it and steadying myself on my staff.
Bob had rattled off a complex explanation of wormholes and how they interact with the magical energies of the surrounding environment, and I could bore you with the specifics of what they mean in the grand scale but the long and short of it is this. I hated that damn gate. It had been uncomfortable to be around it as a Wizard, it was agonizing as what I'd become. Every time I got within ten feet of an active gate it felt like someone was actively stabbing me in the back of the head.
"Heh," Ammit's crocodillan lips turned up in amusement when I gripped my staff. "I'll tell you what, that's one part of not having realpower that I don't miss. I used to have to psych myself up before going anywhere near the thing."
"Cowering? That's what lieutenants and slaves were for, not gods." Enlil snorted, though it was clear that he'd found the experience no more pleasurable than Ammit judging by his facial expression.
"Well times are lean and your ex-wife is terrifying." Ammit jibed. "So, you're all out of slaves to cower for you at the moment."
"I'll confess." Enlil shrugged. "I wouldn't mind some slaves at some point. I am without holdings at the moment."
I rolled my eyes, hard. He'd been dropping hints that he was owed slaves with increasing regularity. I'd been ignoring them with equal fervor. "You'll be without legs if you don't start walking towards that portal."
Ammit snorted, rolling her eyes as the annoyed Enlil walked through the portal. "You know, eventually he's going to figure it out right?"
"Figure it out?" I replied as the priestess walked through the portal.
"That you like us." Ammit shook her head. "That you don't actually want to kill us. And that you aren't Heka."
I stepped back into a defensive posture, earning another chuckle from Ammit.
"Warden, I am not stupid. I knew Heka since before the death of Apep. We were spawned from the same Queen, have the same memories that inform our personalities. You are not Heka, you never were." She flexed her taloned hand. "I don't know if you're one of his children or just a lieutenant who discovered enough of his secrets to secure rule of his dominion, but Heka had a number of personality traits that you just don't. A mantle will change a man, but that is the work of centuries – not hours."
I continued to stand still and silent, ready to strike at her if she came at me. The goddess was tough, I'd seen her kill a Hydra with her bare fists. If she came for my throat I wasn't positive that I could take her before she injured me. Under the circumstances, even a minor injury could leave me easy prey for the Summer Court.
"Honestly Warden." Ammit's eye was the thing of legends as she rubbed her forehead with the palm of her fist. "I don't plan to attack you for killing my blistering idiot of a brother, the man was entirely wasteful with his talent and resources."
"What tipped you off?" I replied, not exactly relaxing but not mustering any more magical power to strike the goddess.
"The Winter Queen didn't roast you on a spit for forcibly sodomizing the Winter Lady at Chronos' behest at the Battle of Djer's Lament in the last great war." Ammit replied. "Even after she'd secured a deal to fight the forces of Chronos on your behalf, she didn't make any apparent attempt to do you bodily harm or make you suffer. Not even through an intermediary. You're clever, but the demon Queen of Winter is capable of twisting law into a dagger through her enemies' hearts."
"… Yeah, that's a tell." I agreed, my stomach somewhat sick at the prospect of exactly what Mab's vengeance for something like that might be. Pillars of salt came to mind. My eye twitched briefly as I realized that while Mab knew she did not need to seek revenge against me, the unstable Lady of Winter very well might not.
"Enlil is eventually going make the same connection I did, and he's going to be less tolerant of having beholden himself to a god centuries his junior rather than millennia his senior." Ammit smiled. "Or he would, if I weren't around treating you like my former brother."
Ah, a shakedown. I was wondering when she'd get to it. "What do you want?"
"Nothing." Ammit snorted. "I'm not some Furling. You've also gone out of your way to save my life and treat me with dignity. I'll deal with you as honestly as you deal with me. I just wanted you to know that I know, and that I don't care. But if you ever threaten me again with selling me out to the Furlings, I want you to know that I will happily sell everything I know for my freedom from them. To Enlil, to the Furlings, to the System Lords, and to anyone else who will guarantee my freedom. I didn't fight for centuries on the first world just to end up a puppet to the Demon Queen. This trip ends my debt the second I walk through that gate. Swear that to me and we keep being friends."
A confusing sense of déjà vu swept through me as I realized that I'd had a similar conversation earlier that day, just with the roles swapped. Stars and stones – I was Ammit's Mab.
I couldn't help it, I burst into laughter. I spoke, hiccupping out the words. "I'm sorry, it's just. I'm not used to being on this side of the equation. I'm usually the one being obstreperous to someone with more mojo than me." I sighed, breathing hard after laughing myself silly. "You have my word Ammit. You take this trip with me and I'll consider us even."
"Good. That wasn't hard now, was it?" She smiled toothily, tossing her saurian bulk into the portal. She shimmered halfway across the galaxy as I considered the goddess. Crazy cannibal though she might be, I was certain that she'd keep her word. Ammit and I might eventually come to blows, but I got the sense that it wouldn't be a surprise when it eventually came. Subterfuge wasn't really her game.
I steeled myself and followed her through the Stargate.
No matter how times I went through the gate I never seemed to get used to the sensation. Bob assured me that it shouldn't be physically possible for me to feel the sensation of having my existence compressed through the capillary in space time, that time and mass didn't exist in the same proportions within the micro-second transitions between realspace and the wormhole.
But I did.
I felt it every time.
And it was agony.
Though, perhaps not quite so painful as the realization that ran through my mind in the split second before we departed Nekheb. I had forgotten to tell the children that there would be no story tonight and that I would not be there to tuck them in.