Adieu to nothing~

Maybe I was still in shock?

That seemed to be the most feasibly explanation as I felt myself bowing and smiling, my words oozing with gratitude as my direct superior and the unofficial one, were both smirking me: as if daring me to try anything: after all what could I do? For now: simply accept the post they had gotten me graciously: after all they were not out to get me -elsewise I might be death already no matter the consequences- and right now I was simply grateful for being too unimportant to dispose of. Maybe they thought they would find my struggles amusing and even if I did come back: usually a Goa'ulds grudge could mature over a few centuries before something came out of it or the annoyances from today will be the anecdotes of tomorrow…. till one of the story tellers decides to stab the other in the back. Rumours say that Bastet and Kali tend to tell stories of each other's first centuries as rising gods, when they are in a particular good mood and dining together: taking great joys in describing what kind of plots and counter-plots both used in their tries to dispose of another. Recent rumours after Ra`s Death -even under Goa'uld- tell that both had their last confrontation, when they set up a summit conference between both of them, only to both bring a naquadah bomb with them and hide it under their part of the conference table.

The twist that came now, was that both of them swapped places with their Prime and met each other for the first time face to face in those disguises: quickly taking a liking to another and plotting to rescue the other and swear them in as their new Prime. When the time set on the bombs was running away, both fled into a Tel`tak and took to Orbit…only to find out, just who the other was in the moment they tried to recruit the other. Sufficient to say that it quickly devolved into a catfight -the famous claws of Bastet`s Guard also came to use- with Mo`tak against Mo`tak and staff blast coming after hits of clubs and hits. The whole situation changed once more, when the contingency plans of both Goa'uld came into effect: both of their fleets jumped in to bomb the summit…and ran right into another at knife-range. Trying to take control of the situation both fought over the communication system…and their Tel`tak soon found itself targeted by their more ambitious subordinates, who wanted to step up over their vaporized corpses. This situation sparked the alliance that held to this day: both of them forced to work together, as they gathered their forces and dismantled the rebels in both of their ranks in a cooperation, which run so smoothly, that some said this was destined to happen. In the aftermath of those loses both came under attack by their neighbours and stopping their feud allowed them to marshal their forces together and crush those, that went against the Duo, that was currently carving out a new empire in the former territory of Ra. From what I remember from the series, they would be quite successful in it.

With some bad luck, the Jaffa I was responsible for, would just end up facing them: not a good prospect in my opinion. Maybe I would be lucky and I would be taken for ransom instead of messily executed? Shuddering a bit at those thoughts, I stepped back into the lively streets of the city, Lateus barely keeping pace with me as I stopped and looked over to him:

"Where did you send the boy and the Jaffa to?"

I did not even bother keeping my voice down and while Lateus bowed quickly, some of the passing citizens either flinched and then did little bows of their own as they hurried past me and away from the possibility of divine wrath as quick as they could. The one legged Jaffa, simply pointed down the street and my guess seemed to have been correct: no way that he would let me send them off without giving them a few pointers where to buy and stay in this city without getting your money swindled by some merchant. He only added:

"The plaza of the ruby-red feather."

With a curt nod I headed out towards the now named destination, my expression set in a grimace of annoyance and anger, which together with my still golden glowing eyes were enough to dissuade people from getting in my way and they quickly parted before me as I stormed down the street with Lateus at my back. We passed through another street, with buildings reaching up to the fifth floor in some cases and windows letting in light on the second one and small rooms for market stands set into the first floor and open towards the street, lining it on both sides; with the vendors torn between reaching out to show me their wares or pulling back to remain unnoticed by me.

I ignored both kinds of them as I moved towards the plaza Lateus had indicated: an open paved square, whose middle was filled out by a round fountain, whose top as adorned by a life-like statue of a rooster, which was painted in bright colours and made out of marble, a single tail feather standing out with its bright red colour compared to the brown and green tones of the other feathers.

The air smelled sweet, with the aroma of honey and freshly baked dough lingering in the wind together with rasped almonds, which all in all was the trademark of the district knows for its bakeries and confectionaries. For a moment I slowed down, but then I saw Lateus slowly shifting his aim towards one of the bakeries on the left side and shifted accordingly: now walking in a more measured pace towards one of the shops, who had their lower floor open, with only a wooden counter parting the costumers from the vendor…and the large stone oven behind him, the neat stacks of wood next to it, responsible for one of the steadily smoking chimney`s far above the street. Finding my wayward ward and the Jaffa watcher wasn`t that hard: the young boy was standing behind the counter and spreading almonds over some kind of honey cake, his hands covered in flour and his clothes thankfully shielded by an apron, while a grandmotherly female Jaffa with already greying hair gathered in a braid was instructing him and slapping him lightly on his small hands, when he tried to sneak off an almond for himself. That does not surprise me in any way: after all I had to feet him since his family left Var`tac in my care and growing boys really seemed to have a black hole somewhere in their belly, as I had seen him sneaking in and out of the kitchen to get the left-overs from my staff: him now working in a bakery must be some sort of dream come true for the little sweet tooth.

Allowing myself a small smile, I toned my voice down once more, even if it might be too late already and half of the plaza was staring more or less obvious at my back to see if anything interesting might happen today or not. I might disappoint them, but I simply said:

"Var`tac, your clothes.",

Maybe my voice came a bit more sternly than I intended it to be, but the way he jumped up and looked to me like he had just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, was amusing enough: even if I was truly curious of what he had done with his clothes: after all they were formal enough for him to fit into the upper class of the city should he be seen with me and that wasn`t really cheap to have bought and fitted for him. But right now he seemed to be wearing an older and slightly to large linen shirt under his apron, only the red marks on his neck hinting at his high collared vest, that had stiffly forced him to be upright before. At least the boy reacted quickly -how I presume Lateus had shown him- and performed a half bow towards me, the Jaffa who had accompanied him meanwhile snapping to attention and standing ramrod straight with the staff weapon in his hand, while the elderly Jaffa also bowed lightly. After this Var`tac gestured further into the shop and towards a chair, over which his shirt and vest were both laid out:

"I have set them aside before helping Jeliàr, wife of Pentheus.",

Turning to the female Jaffa he lowered his head while gesturing for me with one arm:

"The most benevolent Lady Anai, scribe of our victorious Lord Apophis.",

With him doing the introductions, I was only regarding first him and then her silently, her eyes not meeting mine, but instead looking to the ground, as it is proper for any Jaffa, when coming in contact with their gods. Our attention was suddenly captured as we heard heavy steps in the background and someone was stumbling down the ladder, which lead to the bakery and a moment later another already grey-haired Jaffa appeared before me: but this one with all limbs intact and only a long scar reaching over his left cheek towards his ear: his face is lighting up with a smile as he spotted Lateus and then quickly dropping as he saw me: instead making him put down the large bowl of dough he was carrying and bowing deeply before me, as he said:

"Lady Anai, your presence honours my humble store, I`m Pentheus: baker in this district: how can I be of service, ohh divine?"

More or less used or at least ill at ease with these signs of worship, I turned to Lateus and raised an eyebrow as I asked in my human voice:

"You know each other?"

This seemed to have been the right question as the baker straightened once more and walked over to the counter, meeting Lateus arm half way across of it: both of them clasping each other's forearms, as the man smiled at another, the wife of Pentheus only chuckled softly and bowed once more:

"Excuse them Lady Anai, both of them have been in same maniple back in their younger days: they grew up together in the same village and both of them have gone through enough together to turn them into brothers: if not in blood then through their shared hardships in their wars for our great Lord, may he once more prove himself victorious."

Casting her eyes down once more at the mention of their Supreme Lord, something quite interesting as this was Zipacna`s main residence on the planet, she put the cakes Var'tac had prepared to the side and just in time for her husband to return and bow once more after having let go of Lateus:

"Lady Anai, you honor my humble store with your presence, how can an old Jaffa be of service?"

Generally, I did not buy into the "old Jaffa" role some seemed to love slipping into: it had far too much of the wise and peasant cunning, roles like this exhibited in the wandering theatres or at the performances that were part of larger cult festivals and ceremonies. And when someone who was good friends, more than that, with Lateus, whose skull and mind had proved stubborn enough to take a glancing hit by a plasma bolt and still continue on after having part of his face molten…well: let`s see if I can let them slip out of this mask: isn`t the whole world a stage and all the men and woman merely players? When it came to the relations between the ones ruling and those ruled, then this was especially true…so: why shouldn`t I change the text, after all this day could hardly become worse:

"A room for me and my companions for the night: your store for my purchases. Fresh bread from yourself, steamed vegetables and fried fish for dinner. Lateus: you will accompany the lady of the house on the market and get the ingredients. Var`tac?"

Doing my best to ignore the slipping expression of politeness on Pentheus face, that was perfectly exchanged in the next moment with one of stupor and surprise as my short clipped commands were processed by his brains and went through years of experience and costumes, when it came to dealing with "my" kind, I turned towards the young boy who faced me just as surprised:

"You are going to help Pentheus with his store, letting Lateus accompany his wife, does not leave him anyone else to help."

Seeing his slightly dismayed expression as the more fun than serious baking of cakes was now leading towards hard work and helping the baker make real bread, I shook my head and said:

"Learn some diligence: and baking your own bread is something you should know and your mother surely tried to show you: be attentive and you may learn something."

Gesturing with one hand for the Jaffa that accompanied us, I turned to the baker once more:

"I`m going to leave him with you, but he`s my ward: I will decide when it`s needed to give him a few hits on the back to make him go faster: alas I want him back in the same condition I gave him to you."

Giving them each a small nod, showing that I did not except any opinions on my decisions and simply wanted them obeyed, I turned towards the Jaffa, whose name I still had not asked: anyway: as I left the bakery behind he followed me dutifully and took the place behind my back that Lateus had left open. Walking through the busy streets -this time making less of a scene, but still making the pedestrians hurry to the side as they saw me and my escort: rightfully concluding that I was someone important and staying out of my way promised a healthier future for them-, I headed towards the harbour: leaving the sweet smelling streets behind and once more pushing through the crowded streets, till the sound of hammers and boiling water filled the air.

On both sides of the street, "small" houses, which were up to three floors tall, stood wall on wall, with their ground floors being large workshops and smithies, which opened towards the street and sprawled out onto them with wooden stands showcasing their wares and little chairs and tables on which the craftsman themselves sat and worked on filigree jewels and broad axes with either the tiniest of hammers and little straws or iron tongs, which were needed to shape them with only the breath of their mouths. But all of this wasn`t something I was here for, even if I could have covered myself in jewellery and not even asked for something in return, so "glad" they would have been: either because they genuinely worshipped my kind, or because they hoped that I would remember their names and workshop and would show their products off to other Goa'uld or the richer merchants and veteran Jaffa. Without looking at any of them -as this would only motivate the others to be more annoying in their advertisement of their goods- I moved towards one of the stands, which had already caught my eyes:

"Silver or Tin?"

I asked the surprised craftsman as I took one of the silvery plates he showcased from the table before him and hold it up, knocking lightly against it to test the thickness of the metal, inspecting the ornaments only absently: some meander lining the edge, with a fighting scene between two Jaffa – their staff weapons used as melee weapons- adorning the bottom of the plate and lovingly engraved into the material. The Jaffa-Craftsman bowed quickly and answered:

"Tin, oh Divine: if you seek silver plates, I do ha-"

Rolling my eyes, this time no even minding if people saw me doing it or not, I interrupted him before he could go fully into his speech: most likely taking turns in flattering me or his goods. Putting the plate down again I simply stared him down: something quite easy if you can make your eyes flash golden and everyone opposite of you cowering down with this proof of your "divinity".

"Tin is more than enough. I need…a dozen plates with cutlery and the same amount of cups and three flasks made from tin for water or wine."

Another thought stopped me and I looked to the craftsman once more, with the question.

"How many other metals do you put into your tin? Lead in particular?"

Reaching down with trembling hands, the craftsman pulled out a small wooden box, most likely he had it just to answer questions like this and I glad, that he didn`t simply dump the correct amount of rocks into it, but instead had neatly ordered tiny orbs of metal laid out orderly: hundred in their number, I only raised an eyebrow as I took in what seemed like up to eighty or ninety of them being tin, while the rest were…copper? Maybe Lead? Well…it did seem to be fine: after all I would neither want to be poisoned nor did I want to have my new plates and flasks corrode because they were made only of tin and nothing else. Giving the craftsman a little nod, I moved to leave once more, saying:

"Bring the things to the house of Pentheus the baker, the palace will reimburse you for it."

Just as I wanted to go, he spoke up again with some distress, calling after me:

"But Mistress: what design do you wish for? You haven`t told me how you want them to be made."

Yes…commissions, the only reason we have art at this stage of civilization – too bad I had no time for this. Turning back to him I shake my head and call out:

"It does not matter, I only need all of them till the sun rises tomorrow morning."

Not minding him any further I continue to my next destination, the Jaffa still dutifully behind me as I leave the craftsman behind: either he would have the needed items in stock, or he would go out and ask his colleagues for some of their work to reach the needed numbers…in the worst case he would not sleep a bit this night and call in all his assistants to help him cast the plates and flasks I wanted. Anyway: it wasn`t my problem as long as he was able to get the things till tomorrow.

The walk to the large market close to the harbour of the city took us through a ring street, a respectable neighbourhood gathered around it: with the Jaffa who were full time warriors, or richer craftsman and even merchants -even if those had a rather bad image in a society, which was trapped in the drape of a warrior culture-. Nearly all of the citizens walking through these streets had some kind of symbol on their forehead, showing their status as part of a warrior elite…something that was quite obvious if one looked around and even in the richer part of the city: there were no people who were overweight or seemed as if they weren`t doing regular exercises. No matter what other job they were doing for most the time, they were warriors: every last one of them, some more openly than others, but from the lowliest peasant on his own farm to the richest artist, who was making gold and silver jewellery for his overlords and neighbours: each of them was trained in the use of weapons, even if the chance that they would ever have to use their skills more than twice or thrice in their lifetime had been quite low…till now at least.

Chulak was… no is one of the few true Jaffa worlds in the Galaxy and were his "brother" seemed to have liked the idea of surrounding himself with a lifeguard of humans, Apophis seemed to have gone to the other extreme: surrounding himself with a whole planet of Jaffa, where normal humans were a minority, which had arrived on the world either as temporary traders or as craftsman the Goa'uld…or lucky Jaffa had taken as prisoners to use their talents at home, letting them work for the profit of their masters. As such it wasn`t completely impossible to meet someone on the streets of this city, whose forehead wasn`t adorned by the symbol of one god or another, but it was rather hard if you weren`t in one of the districts were craftsman were living close to another with friends or rivals.

To be honest it was quite interesting, especially as I reached the next stop of my destination…or rather the one after it, but having taken a little shortcut I had arrived at the streets, where potters and painters were working next to one another: small and large ovens set before small houses and huts, that were generally quite plainer than the ones of the metal working craftsman I had seen before, but still nice enough to show their status as sought after artists…after all that was also the reason I was here.

Somewhere in the depths of what had once been a human, a sense of giddiness erupted as I looked around the workshops: the vases being set out to dry, the already burned ones standing and being varnished till their black and red colour was shining brightly in the sun above us. Was this the way the Kerameikos had looked like in the day of ancient Athen? Once more my arrival didn`t remain unnoticed and once more the craftsman pulled out their best pieces, showing them off to me as I walked past them: this time with far more interest than before, than looking at ornaments, pictures and then trying to put them into a time had been one of the disciplines, which were needed by every student…too bad this wasn`t really something practical on a market like this: of course regions were cultures did merge together were known on Earth and examine, but this was simply ridiculous.

There were not simply a few different forms and art styles on the vases: there were dozens and some of them completely different from the others, I could faintly compare some of them to Greek forms and art styles, but others were more oriental, while some seemed downright Egyptian and I could have sworn that one was an Etruscan bucchero vase. This were of course only the forms and styles, which were more or less distinguishable and could be counted towards a cultural group in particular: but the numbers of hybrid forms that were combining elements from one art style or another was simply dazzling and why was I even surprised? On Earth they might have been less common and geographically confined in most cases: but thanks to the Goa'uld and their meddling into their subjects culture, together with the transfer of their slaves from one world to another, without ever thinking about what might happen if two totally different people are suddenly living together on the same planet…each and every capital planet could or rather would sooner or later becoming a melting pot of cultures, even if one seemed dominant thanks to the preferences of their Goa'uld Lord.

I ended up looking down at a large ceramic vase with griffins at its handles, the fries showing a banquet scene, with drinking and talking figures on couches, with small tables bearing their meals and servant girls, dressed in nearly transparent clothes serving the guests and even a in the middle of each side: of course with a sign of Apophis on her forehead and while the guests were most likely Goa'uld, the male Jaffa were also shown: as grim guardians on the sides of each fries…even if one seemingly drunken god was offering wine to one of them.

This does say quite a bit about the Jaffa`s conception of their society with the Goa'uld on top – at least on Chulak, somewhere else humans might also have been on a similar fries- and maybe that was the reason I picked the crater up: something I had to do with both hands at its size and handed it to the Jaffa following me, who somehow was able to carry it and his staff weapon…giving the potter and what was most likely the painter behind him, a nod and simply watching them bow deeply I turned once more and started to head back the house of Pentheus.

The room I had been given was usually the one the baker himself had used together with his wife, as such the bed was far larger than the smaller examples I usually slept in and it was simply perfect for falling forward and into it. It might have taken a bit to get used to having either wool or real feathers stuffed into them, but the small prickling on my face, was totally worth it, if I could simply let myself let myself fall forward and face down onto the softness. The crater I bought before was standing on a table close to the window and the evening sun was reflected on it as a soft knocking could be heard on my door. Looking up I called out: "You may enter." And sat up straight, once more, quickly smothering the wrinkles in my dress with both hands.

Opening the door and entering stiffly was Lateus, who bowed before me as I gave him a small smile and offered the wooden chair to the left of me and like always he declined to sit in my presence…while I had to stop myself from fidgeting, because I was sitting down, while the older and only one legged Jaffa was standing before me on his crutch. As he did not say anything I simply regarded him calmly for another moment before saying:

"You have bought the ingredients for this evenings meal, together with the lady of the house?"

"I have", was his simply reply as he inclined his balding head:

"…and from what I have seen in the store room you have also bought everything else that I might need for my travel?"

"I have strived to do so.", he said simply…truthfully.

"Salt, rice, pepper, almonds, a small bag of nuts and another one with dried fruits, together with rusk, dried meat and some dry biscuits…ohh and lets not forget the different kinds of wine you have bought me: at least four different kinds.",

My hands were holding up a small wax tablet on which all the things were inscribed neatly and signed by Lateus and now also by me with my ring – as soon as this tablet found its way to the archives, the merchants would find themselves paid…most likely less than this list said but at least something if not even enough. Feeling over the smooth surface with my fingertips, I tapped against the six wine amphora`s, which were inscribed here: all of different vintages and prize ranges.

"The cheap for the march and the expensive one…",

Lateus said patiently…or servile: as it were the Goa'uld who were either patient or impatient with their subordinates and no the other way around.

"…as my part of the officer evening table: I know. Lateus.",

With a small wave I sighed once more: on the campaign or on board of a ship I couldn`t flee from the company of the other Goa'uld forever and the… well… proto-officer-club -if that was a name-, which met every evening was the most likely reason for me to meet them and with the wine I could at least offer something I could add to the table. Closing my eyes I opened them once more and said slowly to Lateus:

"Thank you."

His eyes widened a bit more once again and he stood straighter as pride filled him and you could watch his breast swell with it as he bowed deeply and intoned with a voice of dedication:

"I do life to serve."

Watching him for a moment, I looked down again with a small sigh, barely audible to even him as I closed my eyes and said slowly, even against all hope:

"But you won`t continue serving me."

I didn`t need to look up, I could see his posture stiffening once more and his pride leaving him only a little as he said slowly and haltingly:

"If you wish so, but my leg…and my age…."

Shaking my head I looked up once more and looked at him sternly, his eyes quickly breaking contact with mine as he lowered his head and I finished his words and thoughts for him:

"…do not make you suited for a campaign, I know. And Lord Apophis himself had signed the document that makes you the right hand of every scribe that supervises your home district."

I had seen the papers myself: scribes were changing every few years, some because they were caught hiding something, other because they looked too far into things -like me- and even others were moved towards other duties, because they had found a patron or someone else that would help them. Only Lateus remained on his position since decades: dutifully shuffling the papers from one side to another, all in the service of his lord, after all…

"Our most victorious lords wishes…"

He once more said without a hint of doubt in his voice, something one could admire…or loathe, I wasn`t so sure about either position yet.

"…are our commands. Still: I thank you Lateus, please go down and help with the meal, I will join you shortly."

After my command he nodded quickly and with another bow he moved backwards out of the door and left me alone….alone as I did something that was totally at odds with my genetic memories: reaching up I tried to brush the wetness of my eyes away but I could feel the salty water running over me cheeks, even as I let myself fall onto my bed and grabbed the pillow: pressing it against my face and stifling any sound I was making…I shouldn`t be surprised to see him stay behind…it had been stupid of me to presume anything else and a real Goa'uld wouldn`t have batted an eye at his behaviour: after all the Jaffa were expected to change masters quickly, even if their Supreme Lord staid the same…Lateus was never mine or specially devoted to me: I was simply a goddess and he was a faithful follower….he would serve just as well to the next god being send to that district…

It took me a few minutes but at the time when the fish was ready and I was informed of this, my eyes weren`t red anymore and I could present myself once again. I didn`t look more at Lateus than I had to do this evening and later I simply went back to my bed…or rather the bed I was given to: it was as much mine as anything else I owned…