Crystal God

by Simpli

Even if someone is called a Goa'uld, not all of them are created equal. There are the systemlord ruling over the galaxy, the minor lord and nobles who are their vassals, the minor ones who serve on the ships as captains and on the ground as officers and there are also those who's power seems to small from afar: the scribes. These is my try as one, trying to survive everything.

3. Of Freedom and Crabs

Of Freedom and Crabs

Being a Goa'uld had its perks.

That came out a bit more obvious than it was intended, but imagine it like this: the generic peasant never went faster than five km/h in his whole life and even the Jaffa might just end up riding more often on horseback, those are not very good runners anyway, than travelling with one of the gods chariots.

You are simply privileged: with mobility. If you do not count the moments when one travels the nearly endless distances the stargates bypass in the blink of an eye, only the death glider pilots ever reached the speed a normal citizen of earth might find familiar: for an airplane that is.

But a funny thing is: there's a small, but to my joy: very entertaining, hole in the protocol which determines how a Goa'uld goes from one place to another. For a high ranking lord it wasn't so much his personal preference as a deeply ingrained ritual in peace times: the Lord was carried out of his palace on a palanquin: his or her body oiled and adorned in the rich ritual clothing in which his cult statues usually get clad in. Unmoving like a marble image and with an emotionless face which showed his detachment from the worldly sphere of his believers, the Lord, most often the systemlord was carried to his ship, where he either slipped into the war outfit and shifted from the role of the deity into the role of the war leader or leading sovereign.

For the low ranking Goa'uld which followed in his wake it usually came down to using their own two feet and walking after him in the long procession: only important vassals and scribes could ever hope to either ride or be carried alongside their Lord in a far less ornamental palanquin.

Scribes like me fell just in between: neither Lords nor simple pencil pushers: send into an vassals province we were the eyes and ears of our Lord, not only tasked with keeping track of equipment and taxes going through the fief we were attached to, but also as voice of our Lord if we had doubts on our "gracious" hosts loyalty. We were taxman and ambassador in one.

But right now I had other things in mind: the hieroglyphs for a clear airspace lighting up on the corner of my vision, making me wince as I had to stop myself from reaching up and pulling the heavy crystal based HUD device, which looked like an monocle to me (and had a far longer name than a fancy relative of the google glass had any right to have).

My hands danced over the red orb between them, manipulating the glider to my whims, a nearly telepathic experience: one could easily start to believe that there was no machine and that the glider was flying to one's mere thoughts.

While that wasn't totally correct, it wasn't fully right either: but why should I care, a genuine smile spread over my lips as I pulled the glider up and let him go faster and faster, my memories singing to my mind as I learned to fly in the moment I needed to fly: dozens…no: hundreds of maneuvers and pilot experiences filling my mind if I only needed them.

My eyes were glued to the canopy, which shielded me from the air and the freezing temperatures as I rose higher and higher, the dark of the night sky coming closer and closer, in my wishes at least. I wasn't allowed to leave the orbit without a reason, but I might be allowed to sweep through the mesosphere and long since I had left the clouds behind. My crescent shaped fighter flew over the white sea of clouds and further and further up, my crystal monocle already showing me at seven iteru, which meant I should really pull back and keep my height now, didn't want to be a tempting target. After all: what should I do if a Jaffa, who had a particular negative experience with the local bureaucracy was on gunnery duty today?

Laughing at the thought I dove down again, the wind pressing against the crystal glass in front of me –or so I loved to imagine anyway- and the clouds once again became visible, this time far darker as they day had progressed quickly and my glider tore through them, glistening wet as I exited them again.

Below me the wide plains of Dazai became visible: a few forests sprinkled over a rather flat terrain, which bore the signs of thousands of years of agriculture: neatly ordered field and artificially straightened rivers, with an ingenious water system that was not so much a creation of the Gods, as it was an evolved system which had started with the first hand dug canals the ancient Egyptian slaves had worked into the ground.

Everywhere were rich golden fields, rolling in the wind as I slowed down to take in the sights; my hand tapped the orb lightly and my identification was sent to the local listening post: after all I wouldn't want to be taken for an intruder.

The soil was rich and dark, it stood out against the nearly omnipresent fields and that was unsurprising: after all it had gained its fertility by a boon of the gods: a specifically crafted nano-bot population which had once upon a time turned a nearly barren wasteland in the corn chamber it is today.

But the times hadn't been that kind to the region: in the battle between Chrono's and Apophis multiple small hamlets had been destroyed and lots of people were moved into the growing cities to serve the Jaffa and their family, while the food stuff was grown by new slaves which lived in slums on the edge of the cities: also for their Jaffa masters.

When one glides over the fields one can still see the scars which orbital bombardment and fights had left: craters which now formed lakes and ponds, while trenches from the fighting on the ground discolored the plants grown above them.

Even easier to spot were the fundaments of former villages which had also been turned into farmland now: after only a bit of heat the plants on top of the stone fundaments had turned yellow, missing the reservoir of water their kin around them enjoyed.

The thoughts brought a laugh to my lips: one rebirth in an alien body and fictional universe later and one still remembered a few things from their chosen subject.

As the glider peacefully flew over the fields I closed my eyes and smiled contently: 200.000, that was the number of people living below me, only 20.000 were Jaffa, the rest were human slaves and peasants, after all ten of them per Jaffa is just enough to allow them to be full time warriors: a bit like the knights on earth.

The memory of a Goa'uld is terribly good: one of the reasons for the most often occurring raids between them: one does it for revenge because of some long forgotten slight (which he or she obviously did not forget), which only leads to the victim from back then coming with an own raiding party a few decades later.

Contrary to popular belief, under Goa'uld, our memory isn't infallible: so it can happen that feuds exist for hundreds of year between individuals or even thousands of years of it's a feud between two Queens….who give their feeling and faint memories of loathing to their offspring.

As that had led to far too many conflicts for Ra's liking, it became a common rule not to lead Queens meet another, not to attack and imprison a queen: but simply kill her quickly when she wouldn't submit to a new lord.

While my mind wanders my eyes regard the landscape under me curiously, now that I had started to slowly glide further and further down, the internal dampeners making that an only enjoyable experience, I found myself comparing the sight to the hand drawn maps I had seen back in Chulak.

There was a mountain range in the north, covered in lush green woods which showed a great deal of activity at its edges: newly planted fields and logging camps seemed to exist next to another, while tree saplings had been planted on other areas: the monocles zoom function was handy.

South of the mountains came the name giving Dazai plains with their fields: through it ran the wide twin rivers: the Ra and the Apophis -humility is no Goa'uld virtue-.

East and West came the neighboring provinces, the Lord of the Jug'at Mountains I had already meet in the palace: his mineral rich province lay to the south and was terribly dependent on the Dazai plains harvest.

I snapped back to attention as I saw the illuminated earthen runaway close to the Rivers Ra south most turn: it had to be the settlement I was heading to: the local palace of minor Lord residing here.

My hands manipulated the red orb between them steadily, the nose of the death glider gently dipping forward as the hieroglyphs in my vision counted down, the height steady falling as the lights of the city beneath me came closer and closer: the stone buildings with their faintly European touch standing in stark contrast to the step pyramid which was raised in the middle of the city and seemed just so….terribly out of place.

I didn't notice it immediately but as I came further and further down I saw dark silhouettes standing on the house roofs and watching me…only after a moment I understood: that were the citizens coming up to see one of their gods wondrous magical devices .

Using my monocle – Yes, I will not spell out the name, elsewise we will still sit here tomorrow – I zoomed towards the roofs and saw what one could mistake for half of the city:

Siting on the roofs, looking out of windows or simply gazing up from the street was a neat profile of the whole population.

There were of course the Jaffa: the central pillar of our societies strength; warriors without fear and blame, their robes seemed appropriate in the quickly colder getting night and I spotted most of them with their family: one woman in their arm and two or more children perched next to them as their father surely told one of his war stories, or how he himself piloted such a machine in service to the mighty Lord Apophis.

But there were not only the Jaffa in plain clothes: there were also those on duty or just returning from it: I even spotted a whole troop of them marching through the city gates, being greeted by their equally heavy armored and armed kinsmen on the thick stone walls: their leader an elder Jaffa with a snake helmet, while the rest seemed to be younger: the slumped shoulders and signs of exhaustion while the leader looked as fresh as spring, was a sign for their recruit status.

Not that there were Jaffa "recruits", the kids raised as warriors from their birth and after a grueling training, were they had to kill their co-trainee and maybe best friend, only half of them ever joined the reservoir of their lords Jaffa army…at which point their training shifted from single combat to group maneuvering and marching.

From the way the group was soon swarmed by others, I would bet that they were a training group from another province on a long march: and everyone wanted to ask what was going on everywhere else on the planet.

It wasn't surprising, after all there was no postal service and all communication devices were in the hand of the Gods: a bit harder to access than a normal telephone booth.

Before I knew it I was already touching down on the ground and the death glider rolled over the earth, which would have bumped me up and down if it wouldn't have been for the whole dampener teach thrown into it: after all a swaying God exiting the machine would be far less impressive.

As the machine finally came to a stop I reached up and pushed the canopy open, closing my eyes as the cool night air rushed over my skin and I shivered a little in my still midriff free outfit and willed my body temperature to rise. Finally comfortable again I stepped out of the cockpit and was instantly greeted by four bowing Jaffa and two minor scribes.

"Imperial Scribe Anai, we welcome you in the city of Kaminalju. Our Lord and Protector awaits you in the palace at his banquet."

Now: explanations might be in order.

I was back then: third minor scribe of the Dazai plains, overseeing the settlement Da'lamar. The minor in the title is a bit misleading: but the point is: I'm not working for the local Lord in the province, instead I'm serving the systemlord Apophis himself: reckoning and checking the amount of natural resources which will have to be brought back to Chulak from here.

Of course the local lord can reign independent of the "imperial" (so called) scribes send by his lord, but he will still have to meet their expectations of the correct amount of taxes: something which led to more than one province being ruined by personal fighting between the lord and the imperial scribes.

Even in the best of circumstances there was always a seething tension between both parties: as the local lords resented the watchers they had gotten in their "own" domain and they could do nothing, as the scribes wrote regular reports of the economy and political situation in the provinces back to their headquarters, were all reports were looked at, sorted and finally a summary of the most important facts was laid out for Apophis himself in our system.

But back to the present:

The greeting was; appropriate.

One can't expect a minor lord himself to welcome another "unwanted" guest and from the four in this province I was the least important. The said: the welcoming committee's leader was the scribes responsible for the capital city itself, that much his elaborate clothes and the countless jewelry, which hung from his chest, pointed out. While his face was set in a haughty sneer, it wasn't directed at me but at the other scribe next to him, who only smiled smuggled and did another bow:

"We great you and wish you an enjoyable stay in our province."

I didn't miss the malicious look the more senior scribe throw his colleague at the word "our", my Goa'uld senses were tingling and I was sure that sooner or later zat'nik'tels or knifes would be brandished in a dark and silent corner of the palace and the position of head scribe and chancellor would be undisputed….for a while.

As useful as this information is: I bow lightly in return and say amicably:

"I accept your greetings deeply honored and wish you and your lord good tidings and victory on his next campaign. Might I get your names honored colleagues?",

Both take the thanks with the usual back and forth of thanks and look quite pleased as I call them colleagues, pulling them up to the same position as me: speaking to them as equals.

The senior scribe addresses me first after a sharp glance silenced his companion:

"I welcome you, my name is Mohar and I'm chancellor to our great lord and over watch the proceedings of more administrative nature in his territories."

Giving him a light nod in recognition and in amusement as I notice his wording: judging from the fact that he was pleased when I named him an equal, I can only guess that he's only overseeing the territories of his lord on Chulak. I know for a fact that more than three planets were granted to him by Apophis and that he had taken one as his palace residence: so his "real" chancellor was undoubtedly residing there.

Mohar hadn't quite lied to me, instead he simply didn't say that he meant "his territories – on Chulak -". Not showing any of my thoughts I only smiled pleasantly and told the dark haired man with the long full beard reaching down to his belly in a Babylonian style:

"I'm sure that's a very prestigious position Mohar, being chancellor on a lords territories on Chulak is always a sign of special attention towards you."

While his face stayed pleasant enough I could see quite clearly that I had hit the mark: his younger colleague with brown hair and a weird crown like plant construct was wearing a smug smile as I bowed, his body fit in a tightly sitting leather ensemble: the top covered in a net of knots with blue stones set in here and there.

"I also welcome you Anai, my name is Ozomatli, and I'm the head scribe for Kaminalju."

His introduction was just as short as the one of his bearded rival, but I could see him smile wickedly as he instructed his position and from the tightening of the others fist I could get a pretty clear picture: both high ranked administrators in a province with nearly no military presence and steady access to their lord.

I was not even five minutes out of my glider and had already stepped into the first plot intrigue of my life: no wonder both wanted to welcome me: an imperial scribe can be…quite helpful as friend.

Smiling now at both of them I had only one thought: How wonderfully interesting.

But of course I did not say so, instead I gestured towards the step pyramid in the middle of the city and looked expectantly at both of them:

"So, shall we go?"

Without waiting for them I take the first few steps and I watch amused how the Jaffa stand up fluently and pick up my pace, not even waiting for the other two scribes. The long skit of my dress flowed around my feet and made walking a slow but also graceful matter, which of course didn't make me fast enough to escape the other two.

Quickly closing up to me they smiled and started to engage me in meaningless small talk, both pointing out buildings and places as we left the glider field and headed towards the city center: the long boulevards lined by stone half-timber houses on both sides, some even reaching four floors under their roof: the richer ones even able to afford bullseye pane for their windows.

Noticing my looks Mahor stroke his beard proudly and seemed to grow in size as he looked around the city patronizingly before finally deeming everyone else important enough to say:

"This is rich land and our lord is generous, even the loyal Jaffa, most devote of our servants are taking part in its riches."

"Yes, thanks to our newest trade routes and the rebuilding of large city parts.",

Ozomatili added nearly absently, but everyone knew he was simply pointing out that this was thanks to him of course. There's a nearly compulsive inability of Goa'uld to claim having done something together. This might be my first example, because I was sure both of their policies: more wealth to Jaffa and the new trade routes were responsible for the growing prosperity in the city.

But with me here right now, both had chosen to boost and show off their progress and their own achievement's, hoping to get my approval for…whatever they were planning.

Reaching up I rubbed the back of my nose and did the best to blend those two bickering idiots out: all they were talking about was themselves – their work and how good they did it – and their never ending loyalty to their lord and mine.

There were other more interesting things: first and foremost the Jaffa around me: their tattoos were different: there wasn't one design for everyone, instead there were those bearing the sign of Apophis and those who did not. Reigning on Chulak was for most of the part a prestige position, it was quite clear to whom the Jaffa were loyal and they could only be accessed if their current liege was assaulted on Chulak or on a mission for Apophis.

In contrast to them stood the Jaffa which were settled down here by their god, their marks looked a bit like….to be honest: no idea: two copulating bovines? Drawn in a very geometric fashion?

There were nearly no ethnic dividing lines as far as I could see, most likely that simply wasn't possible with a genetic pool as diverse as the Jaffa….after all they identified far my by their god than anything else and the usual joining of the winners army in the case your lord lost, simply led to a steady influx and stirring of the Jaffa population in all realms.

So they only thing all Jaffa had in common was the sunburn on their necks, something not really surprising if one looks at the temperatures Chulak can reach on a hot summer day.

Soon I had seen all there was to see of the Jaffa for now and I quickly stopped staring, partly because I was making them uncomfortable and some had even fallen to their knees to pray to be as I passed, partly because I was getting uncomfortable as I remembered the big boogeyman which rose up in my mind: Jaffa rebellion.

I'm literally standing on the very ground it will erupt from: Chulak the first free world of the Jaffa nation, Chulak the home of the warrior Teal'c whose example led the Jaffa into freedom.

Gulping nervously I look down: how long had I left to get away from here? Ra died less than a year ago, which would mean that Apophis was going to visit Earth in little more than a year and afterwards…

I nearly missed a step and the color drained from my face, quickly looking to the side I didn't let the two squabbling nuisances next to me see this moment of weakness: instead I felt like throwing up. In less than half a year Apophis will set his foot on earth….in less than a year the end of the Third Dynasty will begin. Horror washes over me as I correct myself: not the end of the Third dynasty…the end of the Goa'uld altogether.

But wasn't that something to be glad of? To see millions of slaves freed, the Jaffa free from their false gods? The human part of me whispered this thoughts and tried to sooth me while all of my being rebelled, straining against the very thought of the systemlords ceasing to be.

Thousands of years, ten thousands of years of hegemony over this galaxy coming to an end: not in a glorious war against a powerful enemy, not in a last defiant stand against the barbarians at the gates. Slowly dwindling numbers, all present civil war and mutual mauling of minor lords squabbling over this or that planet: steadily diminishing numbers of systemlords, a decline of order and rule in a system which was created long before mankind even invented the alphabet.

That can not be! That could not be! My genetic memory cried, our domain is sacrosanct, our rule is divine and immortal! But for every cry of it my other memories pull up another nearly forgotten picture: men in green cleaning a Ha'tac from the inside, killing Jaffa, sabotaging weapons and engines…primitive peasants attacking Jaffa with crossbows and swords….a puddle jumper destroying a capital ship with ancient attack drones…mechanical menaces overrunning loyal Jaffa and devouring walls and machinery.

I was running, I did hear a shout behind me but I do not listen: away away!

My feet carry me into an alley and Jaffa nearly jump out of the way as they see me, recognizing me as who I am and whenever they reach out I can already feel the punches, the jeers, the kicks…what chance will a Goa'uld like me have in ten years?

Right now they were bowing and smiling, but in two years from now? In four? Would they burn me on a stack? Splatter my head on the pavements stones?

I exited the alley I lost them, I'm alone. My eyes peer through the darkness of the street I entered, closed windows, closed doors. I need to take a breath I….

"Scribe Anai, were are you…",

I did not even wait to finish the end of the sentence, I saw one of the Jaffa in my escort walk towards me, his staff under one arm and a smile on his lips as if he wasn't…

My eyes only need to fall on the staff and pictures flooded by mind, both from the old me and the genetic memory: staff wounds…staff blasts…staffs in melee breaking skulls and bones….Jaffa wielding their staffs like clubs in frenzied melee for the glory of their gods.

I have to run, I need to get a clear head.

Revelations are a…

Suddenly there's no more ground under my feet and I just spot the surface of the river, the moonlight shining over it as it comes closer and closer, my other feet slipping of the polished border as I can barely let out a cry.

In the next moment a hand holds mine and pulls me back, with a startled cry I land on my behind, wincing lightly as my robes get covered in the dust and a bit of pain erupts from back there.

Reflexively I reach back and rub my hurting buttocks a little….only after I take another breath I got the time to think and…quickly pull my hand back as if burned and if I wouldn't know it better I would say that I had blushed….of course I did not. I have the memories of thousands of ancestors who came before me: there's nothing which can make me blush.

I was pulled back: that meant someone saved me from my impromptu bath and that someone really shouldn't see an imperial scribe rubbing her bottom. At least I didn't say "Ouch!" or something.

"Thank you.",

I gasp after a moment and peer up into the darkness, my sight good enough to make a familiar contour out in the shadows: a helmet formed like a snake. Letting out a relieved sigh I push myself of the ground and walk towards the edge of the canal I nearly fell in, admiring the clean cut stone plates for a moment before an amused elder voice asks me from behind:

"While I would encourage my students to take a cold bath this late, isn't it a bit too dark for you girl?"

For a moment I'm simply speechless: here I stand: third minor scribe Anai and this Jaffa simply calls me girl? Maybe it's simply the amused tone in his voice, but I cross my arms and say a bit petulantly:

"I was thinking… the canal was in the way…"

I might have expected a lot, after all you usually don't rescue one of your gods from cold water, but I did not expect him to…laugh. Simply staring I finally join in the laughter, giggling even a little as I stared down in the water and then turned around to face him again, a smile on my lips.

"I just thought about Jaff…"

Suddenly….I stop and, it makes terrible sense…reaching up I touched my neck lightly: upps.

Seems like I have forgotten to turn on the booming echo voice again, so right now he had no idea that I was….ouch….awkward.

Tugging on my sleeves nervously I think about what to do….should I simply go all Goa'uld again and proclaim the whole thing a test and then pat his head for being a good Jaffa and rescuing me.

Or should I excuse myself and run away as fast as possible, I kind of believe I might leave him behind if I start now and he has to think for a moment before following, now if I could only…

"So? What were you thinking about Jaffa?",

The voice interrupts me kindly again and I look up to the serpent Guard, who had now taken place on a stone bench, shouldering his staff weapon and inviting me to join him with a small nod.

Sighing I stand up sit down next to him with comfortable distance, reaching down and dusting off my skirt before looking up again and asking after a moment of hesitation.

"You are warriors….the Jaffa I mean…I was just thinking about….what do you fight for?",

I'm not sure why I blurt it out but, the serpent guard becomes very still next to me and I curse myself for asking something that stupid, after all he will just answer…

"For our gods..."

Yes, that was the answer I was expecting, perfectly indoctrinated and happy to die in the name of Apophis like hundreds of other…

"For honor, some might say we fight out of tradition, because the battle defines us as what we are. I also know of warriors who simply fight for Glory, wanting to prove themselves against the world. Then are those who do it out of hate, those who lost friends and family to the attacks of other gods and their Jaffa. Some do it out of love to their home, to defend it and help it grow, no matter what others throw at them.

I saw warriors sit on the bloodied ground of a battlefield and wield not their staff, but parchment and ink: writing poems for the fallen. I saw proud warriors stay behind and defend a chokepoint till their weapon ran out of charges, keeping the route of their comrades clear. I was there when crying men found out that their brothers and friends had lived: that it was their fight which freed them from captivity, or helped to secure their hospice from an enemy attack."

I found myself growing silently as he told this, his voice was….old. The knowledge in my head was ancient but his tales were…old. Looking down I saw the hands which held the staff weapon: wiry and with lined skin, but at the same time strong and with a steady grip: for a Jaffa to grow old….old enough that the age shows in such a manner….

"We Jaffa fight for different reasons, even two brothers might be on the battlefield out of totally different motivations. The gods are huge part of it, but it's not them who bring us on the battlefields…not really….they only serve to make the young ones sacrifice their lives and the old ones will keep silent at their order."

Wincing lightly I note to myself: exposing myself as one of the gods now….not a good idea.

Instead I bow my head lightly and then straighten, standing up again:

"I thank you for the answer it is…not answering much but…it gives one something to think about…",

I say and curse myself for coming up with nothing better, nothing that sounds more meaningful than feedback for a presentation in school. The old Jaffa only laughs again and stands up too, his helmet turning to face an alley were steps were slowly coming closer…and enthusiastic youthful voices were echoing from the walls.

"It seems like my warriors return to get their old master. I take that you know where to head to now and will keep your eyes open for canals?"

Even with the light humor in the voice I can only laugh a bit sheepishly, wringing my hands.

"Uhh…..I will try….I need to get to the pyramid….I just no one will be angry that I'm too late."

Staring at me for a moment, the Jaffa finally stands up too and gestures for me to wait for a moment, he disappears in the shadows leading towards the other alley and I can hear his voice faintly, before a chorus of equally amused and dismayed voices answer him.

It didn't take more than a minute for him to return and he was bearing…..

I rubbed my eyes….really, did I keep my zoom function on or something?

He must have been carrying the largest crustacean I had ever seen: its pincers alone were the size of my hands! Without more words he stepped to me and I suddenly had my arms full of crab, the hard crust pressing into my skin as I wobbled a bit and finally got my balance back, opening my mouth to ask:

"Thank you but…what is that for…"

"That's for you to give the cook at the palace if you get in trouble with the other servants, simply tell them you got it for nearly nothing from a fisher and want to sacrifice it for the god's next banquet."

Clutching the crab tightly, I find my eyes suddenly wet…yes.

I shuddered and tried to stop but…Goa'uld memory doesn't really help when you suddenly feel like crying…from joy. The genetic memory usually blunts all emotions because you simply had seen it all but…no one had ever been gifted a crab like this…and not because I was his goddess or something…but simply because he didn't want me to be in trouble…

I'm a terribly terribly person….for not telling him…

"Th-thank you….", I press out for the third time this evening and hold the crustacean tightly to my chest, my chest a chaos of emotions as I think about it….its a crab….I got a crab as a gift…but it was my very first gift….in this live that is…he gave me a crab…a gift.

It was…confusing. And I didn't listen at first and only as he patted my shoulder lightly I looked up and quickly used my long sleeves to swipe some tears of my eyes, giving him a light smile as I finally heard his questions.

"Might I enquire your name, I do not pass here often but maybe I could look by again and I doubt anyone will be able to show me the way when I simply call you girl. Don't you think so, girl?"

Laughing lightly I shake my head and without thinking much, as I later learned to my annoyance, I answered truthfully (-hundreds of my snake ancestors are now spinning in their sarcophagi-):

"I'm only here for this evening….I'm working in Da'lamar….my name is….Anai of…",

Only after a moment I remember the Jaffa custom and finish with a grin:

"Anai of Chulak. It was a pleasure to meet you… but I now really need to run."

Pointing upwards to the pyramid I say wistfully:

"Die Mitternacht zog näher schon;

In stummer Ruh lag Babylon.

Nur oben indes Königs Schloss,

Da flackerst, da lärmt des Königs Tross."

Bowing a last time I quickly turn around and run down the way I have come, hoping to find anyone from my escort still searching for me….and maybe I can even get those two to carry the crab for me, which would be….amusing. In a now far better mood I walk towards the main street again, not hearing how a second Jaffa walks to my collocutor and asks:

"Did you understand that language Master?"

"No…but there was something strange about that girl... Now. ",

He says and opens his helmet, a hint of gold glinting in the moon light;

"Why are you still sitting here? Gather the others and let them take a bath! I heard the water is wonderfully refreshing in such cold nights and I wouldn't enjoy it without all of joy doing so too!"