Complete
Drama
Set in Season 7
Spoilers for Fallen, Orpheus, Chimera

Acknowledgements:

Beauty and Truth

Daniel poked meditatively at his Singapore noodles, occasionally picking up a prawn and examining it intently.

"You know," Amy noted, "I think this has to rate as one of my worst dates ever."

Daniel looked up at her and forced a smile. "It's not technically a date," he reminded her.

"Maybe not, but I think the sheer volume of awkwardness means that it has to go at the top of the list, even if it doesn't quite belong. I mean, I'd hate to waste all these long, uncomfortable silences."

"I'm sorry," Daniel sighed. With a deliberate motion, he scooped up a mouthful of noodles and pushed them into his mouth. He chewed slowly and the uncomfortable silence returned.

"Penny for them?"

"Hmm?"

Amy waved her chopsticks in the air with half a spring roll clenched precariously between the tips. "Penny for your thoughts, Daniel?" She ate the spring roll and then, when she received no response, picked up another and tried again. "Spring roll for your thoughts?"

Daniel shrugged.

"Sesame toast? Sweet and sour pork ball?"

Despite a struggle to keep a straight face, a snort of laughter finally escaped from Daniel's nose. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards.

Amy dipped the pork ball in the sauce and proffered it to her friend. "Come on, then. Open wide."

Daniel obediently took the delicacy.

"So, what's worrying you?"

Daniel chewed and swallowed. "I don't know," he admitted. "Or... rather, it's what I don't know. I still can't remember what happened when I was Ascended."

"I thought that was for the best?"

"So did I, and I know that it was probably a better choice than being destroyed by the Others, but if I had remembered just a little bit more then we could have rescued the Jaffa slaves from Erebus long before Bra'tac ran out of tretonin."

"And if you hadn't remembered anything, we never would have got them out at all," Amy replied. "Perhaps you'll remember things as you need to?"

"How can I trust that, though?"

"Because I don't believe that you would have... 'descended' if you were leaving anyone in trouble and I actually don't believe that they could have descended you against your will."

Daniel managed a smile. "While I appreciate your faith in me, the Others are much older and – presumably – more powerful than me."

"Then why couldn't they properly descend Anubis?" Amy challenged. "They may act all high and mighty, but they're not all that. As you said yourself, you presume that they are more powerful than you. You don't know that."

"How could I?" he demanded bitterly. "If I ever knew, I've forgotten it now."

Truly concerned now, Amy reached out and took his hand. "Actually... I may be able to help," she offered tentatively.

"What do you mean?"

"I was going to wait until I was certain, but... " Amy released Daniel's hand and moved around the small table so that she was sitting right beside him. What she had to say now was not for all ears. "I did a lot of work with Jonas when we were searching for the location of the Lost City. He was looking to the tablet and its translation, but I was focusing on the connection between that city and Thule, where I met you in your Ascended form."

"And?"

"And... well... and nothing, to be honest, but my research may have something to help you." She squeezed his hand, gently. "We both have leave due."

"We always have leave due," Daniel replied. "Just like Sam."

Amy grinned. "Maybe that's one of the advantages of being a workaholic. But be that as it may, we do have leave due and the Sorn... "

"I wish you wouldn't call Sarah that."

"... will be in England for another month at least, so there's nothing to stop us taking a little trip."

"What about the menagerie?"

"I can get one of my neighbours to look after Paris – he'll behave himself if I think him to – and Wolsey's a cat," Amy assured him, "he can look after himself for a couple of days. Anyway; I think that you and I need to take some time off."

"For what?" Daniel asked.

"For us to go on a spiritual journey!"

*

"It's been a while," Daniel mused, staring out of the window at the city far below.

"Three years, isn't it?"

Daniel nodded in agreement. "The last time I was in Cairo was when we were trying to track down Osiris. We came in on the SGC Gulfstream then, which was... nice."

"You don't think this is nice?" Amy asked.

"It's a rust-bucket," Daniel replied, scratching at a patch of oxidation on the metal trim around the window of the elderly transport plane. "And I'm sure we should have a co-pilot."

"You're my co-pilot. I trust you. You have your wings, don't you?"

"I have some sort of honorary astronaut's wings, more or less by default," Daniel replied. "I've never even held the controls of a plane while the pilot changed the radio station."

"Huh."

Daniel gave her a worried look. "Huh?"

"I did not know that," Amy admitted. "I thought Colonel O'Neill took you out for pilot training a couple of years ago."

"He was going to, but I drove him to the airfield and he told me to turn around and drive back. He said that based on my ability to control a car he wasn't letting me near an airplane."

"And yet you made such a good job of teaching Teal'c to drive!"

"Those who can, do, I guess. You couldn't have asked about this six thousand miles ago?"

"You couldn't have raised the concern six thousand miles ago?"

Daniel sighed. "Are we even legal up here?"

"Only on paper, in as much as I listed you as a qualified co-pilot," Amy replied.

"Fantastic."

"Stop moaning," Amy laughed. "It's the guy who let us take off without seeing your licence who'll be in real trouble and we got here didn't we?"

"Say that when we've landed." Daniel shook his head in defeat. "Alright. So you said you'd tell me what we were doing when we got to Cairo. Since we may not survive touchdown, maybe you could make a start."

"Oh ye of little faith," Amy laughed, "but alright. It started when I was blended with Thoth. Ever since then, I've been having dreams about the woman called Ma'at."

"The Ancient Egyptian embodiment of truth and harmony?" Daniel asked.

"And the wife of Thoth," Amy agreed. "Or, rather, the prisoner of Thoth who converted him to the Path of Ascension. If and when they actually married I wasn't clear on.

"During my research with Jonas, I found a lead on Ma'at that I've been following in my free time. I already knew that she was a sort of priestess-queen, noted for her power and wisdom, who Thoth abducted and held prisoner until she escaped him by Ascending. He was moved by her strength and impressed by her resistance, and so he pursued her by seeking Ascension himself. The Others refused to allow Ma'at to aid Thoth; ostensibly because it would be interfering in the natural course, but I believe, in retrospect, because of whatever terrible events followed the Ascension of You-Know-Who."

Daniel rolled his eyes. "You can say his name. He's Anubis, not Voldemort."

"You used to be so much fun. Anyway; Jonas found a reference to Ma'at in relation to the Lost City, as he thought," Amy went on. "He showed me this reference and I saw pretty quickly that the city referred to in the text was Ultima Thule."

"And what was Ultima Thule? I mean, I know the legends, but really?"

"The final city. Final, in the sense of 'the last suit you'll ever wear,'" she added, by way of explanation. "Ultima Thule was a part of the great Ascension project, a threshold realm, constructed using the utmost limits of Ancient science as a bridgehead into the Ascended universe."

"Ascended universe?"

"I'll show you," Amy promised, "but I'll have to land first."

In the cool of an expensive Cairo hotel room, Amy produced from her bag a thick, leather-bound notebook, stuffed with loose sheets of paper, photographs and parchments. She also took from around her neck the amulet that she always wore, the naquadah talisman forged by Thoth and given to her in the hallowed city of Thule.

"Using this and a power source in the shape of a caduceus, Thoth opened a wormhole into Ultima Thule. As close as anyone was able to work out, this wormhole was not keyed to a spatial location; it punched through to a different level of existence."

"The Ascended universe?" Daniel asked,

"Well, more a sort of bridgehead realm," she corrected. "Ultima Thule; a city in which the Ascended and the unascended could meet and interact and which a person could enter in a corporeal state and leave as an Ascended being." She took several documents from the notebook and spread them carefully on the table in front of her, then located a particular page, which bore a pencil sketch of a beautiful woman.

"Ma'at," Daniel said, with complete certainty.

"That's right," Amy agreed. "I met her in Thule and sketched that from memory."

"Then... I remember her from when I was Ascended?"

Amy shrugged. "Maybe, although a lot of people recognise her." She tapped the map, which showed a narrow canyon, leading to a broad valley. "It is said that Ma'at ruled over a hidden valley – the Valley of the Scales – at the source of the Nile. This valley was said to be an oasis in the red land and that fits with this map. From the geography, I'd put it somewhere around the Fourth Cataract; in the middle of the Manasir Desert. Not quite the source, but far enough back that for an Ancient Egyptian it would make no odds.

"All of this was millennia ago, however; a thousand years before Thoth was even frozen in the Antarctic Ice. The legends of Ma'at say that she was taken by the god, Khonsu – one of many of Thoth's pseudonyms to be taken up by a lesser Goa'uld in the intervening time – but that she escaped to the City on the Edge of the World and later returned to her people in the valley. She became a great and revered teacher; indeed, I believe that she has set herself up as a guide and guardian of all humanity. I think that that is why we all recognise her; she has been there throughout our history, pushing humanity in the right direction."

"But that would break the Others' law of non-interference," Daniel protested.

"I think she probably bends that law, rather than breaks it," Amy replied.

"And you think that we should go looking for this valley?"

"Yes."

"A possibly mythical valley, watched over by an Ascended being, that has remained hidden for millennia and defeated searches by" – he scanned the documents before him – "Herodotus, Sir John Mandeville... and Napoleon?"

"Among others."

"Of course; and you believe that we will succeed where they have failed because?"

"We have you," Amy replied. "We have your unconventional Egyptological contacts, your buried memories of Ascension and we have the fact that both of us knew Ma'at on sight. As I said, almost everyone seems to recognise her, but to know her name is rarer. I think that there is something in our family history, a genetic or spiritual memory, or just a level of – for want of a better word – enlightenment in our souls that could guide us."

"And if not?" Daniel asked.

Amy shrugged. "We spend two weeks exploring the lower cataracts on paid leave. I can't see anything wrong with that."

"You're a hell of a girl, Amy Kawalsky," Daniel declared.

Amy tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace.

"You will find someone," Daniel assured her.

"I have found someone," Amy replied, with barely a hint of bitterness.

Daniel winced at that. "Well, if we need someone to guide us through the deep desert, we should contact the Cinquaids," he suggested.

Amy raised an eyebrow.

"Drs Julien and Kaira Cinquaid. Julien is an archaeologist and – for want of a better word – adventurer from Albi. He's lived in Egypt for almost twenty years and if anyone knows the desert better than Julien, it's Kaira."

"Wife?" Amy hazarded.

Daniel nodded. "She's a Coptic Christian; old, old Egyptian blood. There isn't a language used in this country that she doesn't speak. About ten years ago, at around the same time I was being laughed out of a lecture theatre in Chicago, they went on an expedition to the lower reaches of the Nile and explored some of the prehistoric tombs around the Fourth Cataract."

"See; I knew you'd know someone," Amy laughed.

"Always assuming that they'll still talk to me," Daniel added. "A lot of respectable people won't."

*

Daniel knocked on the door of a large, white-walled townhouse and stood waiting.

"Done well for themselves, haven't they?"

"Julien was born to money," Daniel replied. "His father turned up the treasure of the Templars fifty years ago."

"Templars?" Amy asked sceptically.

Daniel laughed in agreement. "It's more likely that Inspector Agravaine Cinquaid... "

"Agravaine?" She did not sound any more convinced by this piece of information.

"... simply had an inside line. After the war, he was a part of the Sûreté task force who tracked down Nazi officers in hiding and collaborators who were trying to keep their heads down."

"So your friend is rich on ill-gotten Nazi gold?" Amy asked. "That's even crazier than the treasure of the Templars."

"Trust me. It makes more sense when you meet Julien."

The door opened and a man stood staring at them. Amy first thought was that it made no sense for this man to have anything to do with either Nazi gold or Templar treasure. Either of those would require a certain romantic flair and this man had none. Her second thought was that, if he had that romanticism, this man would have been Daniel.

He was tall and lean; his body strong from hard work without having the muscle mass that Daniel had developed through training and working with the military. He wore small, almost circular glasses over hard, brown eyes and his sandy hair was trimmed into a neat, professional cut. He wore lightweight, white linen pants and a short-sleeved grey shirt.

It was a mild day, by Cairo standards, which meant that for a girl used to Colorado Springs it was unbearably hot. Keenly aware of the circles of sweat beneath her own arms, Amy could not help noticing the freshness of the man's appearance: clearly, he had not been out of the house since his last shower. Amy felt that the decent thing would have been to invite two overheated, enervated visitors into the air-conditioned foyer, even if one of them had not been an old friend, but the man made no move to do so.

"Daniel Jackson," he said, with a slight sneer. He sounded like a New Englander, rather than a Frenchman. "I would say that this was a surprise, but I suppose when Gardner resurfaced it was even odds you would as well. Birds of a feather and all that."

Daniel winced. Amy knew that he was thinking of the charge of antiquities smuggling that had been allowed to rest on Sarah's shoulders. He had never been happy with that, although he had accepted that there would have to be a story that would explain Sarah's savage assault on Steven Rayner; now that Sarah was free and had returned to Earth, it was providing more than a few headaches. The Air Force lawyers were spinning a tale of amnesty in consideration for assistance, but in the absence of a gang of international museum thieves it was hard to carry this and Rayner was said to be considering a private prosecution for assault.

"Hello, Weston," Daniel replied. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"Someone had to look after Kaira when Julien walked out," Weston replied.

That hit Daniel hard. "Julien... "

"Walked out," Weston replied. "Or rather, Kaira threw him out."

"I don't believe it."

Weston shrugged. "I don't much care if you believe me or not." He turned his hard eyes on Amy and looked her up and down. "Picking up strays now?" he asked.

Amy narrowed her eyes. "Can I thump him?"

"Not yet," Daniel replied regretfully. "Amy; this is Dr Roger Weston, a contemporary of mine. Weston, this is Captain Amy Kawalsky, USAF."

"You've been reduced to working for the military?" Weston laughed. "What are you doing, then? Certifying ancient burial sites as empty so they can build air bases on them?"

Amy smiled sweetly. "I read some of your papers," she told Weston. "Your doctoral thesis made for fascinating reading."

Weston looked smug. "A little over your head, surely?"

"I found the methodology in your later work to be sloppy, though," she went on. "You tend to adopt a fairly pedestrian position and then fall back on hopelessly outdated or inappropriate assumptions to support your theories instead of bothering to analyse the available evidence for yourself. It's a shame when you showed so much promise."

"Why you little... !" Weston started forward, but Daniel put a hand on his chest, more for Weston's sake than for Amy's.

"Can I thump him now?"

"No," Daniel replied firmly. "We're here to see Kaira, Weston."

"She isn't here right now."

"We'll come in and wait."

"She won't want to see you," Weston sneered.

"I'll take the chance."

Daniel moved towards the door and Weston began to step into his path. Apparently he thought better of it, because he stepped back as soon as proximity made it apparent that Daniel was both stronger and fiercer than the man Weston remembered.

"You are not welcome... " Weston began weakly.

"Daniel!" With this delighted squeal, a tall, tanned bundle of energy crashed into the porch from behind Amy and swept Daniel into an enthusiastic hug. Like Amy, the newcomer wore long sleeves and full-length pants, in spite of the heat, so as not to arouse the anger of Cairo's Muslim majority. A wide-brimmed, white hat covered her head against the sun.

"Kaira," Daniel laughed, throwing his arms around her.

"It is good to see you, my old friend," Kaira Cinquaid said. "But it has been so many years and you can not be going now."

"Going?" Daniel asked.

"You stand around on my doorstep as though you just plan to leave a message," Kaira accused. "You must come in and let me meet your lovely wife."

Amy's face flamed red.

"I... No!" Daniel stammered. "No, Amy isn't... I wouldn't... I mean... "

The blush deepened. "I don't think she meant anything bad by it," Amy muttered.

"No, indeed," Kaira assured them both. She touched Amy's arm and gave her a look of understanding. "Come inside," she repeated. "Roger will make some tea and we shall drink on the roof."

"That is most kind," Amy replied. "Thank you so much, Roger."

"You are welcome, I'm sure."

*

Amy sat on the roof and looked up at the table where Daniel sat with Kaira and Weston. The two old friends were reminiscing merrily, while Weston looked on with a scowl and Amy had decided to keep out of the way. She sat on the floor and played with Kaira's children, Perrin and Felise; Perrin was nine, his sister only seven, but they both seemed to be possessed of greater intelligence and maturity than either Weston or Daniel were showing at present. Weston was clearly infuriated by the cordiality which Kaira was showing to Daniel, who in turn seemed to be angry on behalf of Julien or, possibly, simply jealous on his own part.

"What are they doing?" Perrin asked.

"Strutting," Amy replied acidly, narrowly resisting the urge to introduce a child to any of the more colourful phrases that sprang to mind. "I'd say they were acting like a couple of children," she added, "but I wouldn't want to insult you. Maybe like a couple of cocks in a barnyard. Yes, that might be more apposite."

"What's a barnyard?" Felise asked.

Amy reached out and tousled Felise's hair. The girl had a thick head of long, glossy black hair and large, bewitching dark eyes in a heart-shaped, copper-skinned face; just like her mother. Kaira Cinquaid was unquestionably a beauty and that fact had not been lost on Daniel.

Amy hated her.

If she were honest with herself, Amy was not feeling her most mature today either.

"So, what brings you here?" Kaira asked. "I had hoped that it might be in order to introduce an old friend to a new wife, but I should have remembered that, like my husband, social calls are not much in your line."

Daniel blushed a little at that. Amy wondered if that meant that he had missed the fact that Kaira still called Julien her husband.

"We actually came here to ask for your help," Daniel explained, taking the map from his journal and spreading it on the table. "Amy and I are looking for a site in the Manasir Desert; a hidden valley."

Weston gave a disparaging snort. "Hidden valleys? You never change, Jackson."

Kaira, however, donned a pair of very chic reading glasses and perused the map. "I have heard of such a valley," she admitted, hesitantly. "It is called the Valley of the Scales, because it is said to be the home of a great temple of Ma'at, where the goddess herself once sat in judgement over the sins of men." She looked uncertain for a long moment, but at last she said: "Really you would need to talk to Julien about this. He was always the one with the contacts in that area; the local tribes were usually pretty reluctant to talk to a woman. If I was lucky they ignored me; if not, they tried to have me stoned as a harlot."

"Don't you just hate when that happens?" Amy called from the floor.

Kaira flashed a dazzling grin; Amy tried not to forget that she hated her.

"You do realise that if there was a hidden valley in the Manasir desert it would have shown up on a satellite image by now?" Kaira asked Daniel.

"You never can tell," Daniel replied enigmatically.

"Complete nonsense," Weston scoffed.

"I think you're chasing shadows... perhaps dangerous shadows, but Julien is the one to ask," Kaira repeated. "I suppose that you had better go and see him. He lives in a house in one of the less respectable parts of town; his mistress' house," she admitted.

"His what?" Daniel demanded. "He wouldn't."

"I am afraid that he has," Kaira corrected. "He... We argued," she admitted. "He has always been footloose and I have for some time felt that he must quench his desire for adventure. For the sake of the children, we both need to have steady work, but he wouldn't take a job at the museum or the university; he was always rushing up and down the river."

"And so she threw him out," Weston announced, sounding very pleased with himself.

"He sent me the address for his mail," Kaira added listlessly. "He said he was staying with a 'friend'. I knew what he meant. I can give you the address and you can visit him to see if he can help you. But I hope that you will stay to lunch first," she added, with forced brightness.

"We should get on," Amy hazarded.

"But we can afford a little time," Daniel noted. "We'd be delighted to stay for lunch."

*

"Well, that was an awkward couple of hours," Amy declared.

"I'm sorry about Weston," Daniel began.

"Weston? Like you were much better."

"Huh?"

Amy made a disgusted grunt. "So did you drool over her as obviously when she was still with her husband?"

Daniel had the good grace to blush at that.

"Is that a yes?"

"No," Daniel insisted. He paused for a moment and then said: "They were already married when we met. Julien was a dynamic young post-doc, working on one of Professor Jordan's digs; I was a callow postgraduate. Kaira wasn't an official part of the dig team, but she wanted to help out and Professor Jordan wasn't about to turn down that kind of expertise. After a week I think he was regretting his decision though."

"The students weren't pulling their weight?"

Daniel chuckled. "Either standing around staring or mattocking clean through occupation layers in an attempt to impress her with their manliness."

"Their? So you were one of the starers?"

"No," Daniel repeated primly. "I was one of only two postgraduate diggers who didn't make a pass at her. Annie made sure of that," he added in an embarrassed mutter.

"You were there with Dr Midhir?" Amy asked.

"She wasn't a doctor any more than I was."

"Then... " Amy made a quick calculation. "Then this was when you were married for a year? And she spent most of the year dragging you away from another woman?" Amy asked, appalled. "No wonder it didn't last."

Daniel's face shifted from red to a kind of purple, although it could conceivably have been the heat that caused the change. "I was young," he protested, "and not very smart. Kaira was exotic and sophisticated and I was dumb enough to think that stability in a relationship was a bad thing."

"You're hopeless," Amy sighed.

"It was a long time ago!"

"I take it that the second postgraduate who didn't hit on Kaira was Angharad herself?"

Daniel nodded.

"What I fail to understand," Amy told him, "is how it is that archaeological digs are such a hotbed of sin and depravity, yet I never seem to get any."

"You have standards," Daniel replied. "The only people getting any on that dig were Kaira and Julien, and Angharad and I. The other four postgraduates were just frustrated."

"Was Weston one of those postgraduates?"

"And Steven Rayner was one of the others," Daniel agreed.

"And all four of them were chasing around after Kaira Cinquaid?"

"When Julien wasn't around."

"Lucky Kaira."

"Amy?" Daniel asked, concerned.

"Never needed Dr Midhir to keep you away from me," Amy sniffed. She tried to make light of it, but once more, her resentment came through.

Daniel stopped in the street, caught Amy's shoulder and turned her to face him. "Amy, please... "

"I'm sorry," Amy said. "I just... I guess it bugs me that you have a big unrequited love as well. I think I could live with you having a lover, if you were happy, but I don't want to see you with another woman and miserable."

"I'm not with Kaira and she isn't my big unrequited love. And I'm not miserable."

"She is," Amy noted, more gently.

"What?"

"You didn't notice? Well, I suppose it wasn't her cleavage that was looking melancholy."

"Amy!"

Amy looked at him blandly. "Well, it was pretty clear that she isn't happy with Roger Weston – and let's face it, who could be? – and that she wants Julien back."

"But she threw him out."

"Of course she threw him out!" Amy snapped. "She threw him out so that he would come back. That's what wives do when their husbands are being unreasonable, but not necessarily unfaithful. She thought that he would miss her and miss the kids and come back chastened and repentant. Oh, come on, Daniel! Do you really think she'd have shacked up with Weston if she wasn't on the rebound?"

"I guess not," Daniel admitted. He sounded thoughtful.

"Oh, stop it!" Amy snapped.

"What?"

"Stop wondering what would have happened if you'd been here instead of him. She'd have bounced into your waiting arms, just like with Weston, and in three months the magic would've worn right off; just like with Weston."

"I wasn't... " Daniel began, but it sounded hollow, even to him.

*

There was no one in at the address Kaira had given them. Rather than wait on the doorstep – which did not seem like a safe option, even with Amy's proficiency in unarmed combat – Daniel decided that they should try a few of Julien's old haunts.

"Are these the kind of haunts where I'll have to wait outside for fear of getting stoned?" Amy asked.

"Of course not," Daniel assured her. "Kaira and Julien were inseparable; anywhere we hung out would have to be somewhere that she could go."

"Must have been popular gatherings," Amy sniffed.

"Jealousy really doesn't suit you, Amy." Daniel sighed. "Misery doesn't suit you. I'm beginning to think that this whole spiritual journey was a dead loss."

"Early days yet, and it was my idea, so don't go giving it up on my account."

The Blue Parrot was a bar that hovered comfortably between a fashionable facsimile and the actual seediness that it aspired to. Small windows and dim lanterns gave it a close, dark atmosphere in which the rich scents of strong tobacco smoke and exotic spices mingled. In the shadows and the hazy air, the waitresses in their Turkish trousers and silk blouses could pass for a size thinner and a decade younger than they actually were; the pencil-moustached barman might seem authentically Egyptian, rather than imported Australasian; and the furniture could look antique, instead of merely old. To Amy, a seasoned observer and one whose eyes – thanks to the benefits of naquadah impregnation – functioned exceptionally well in low-light conditions, the artifice was plain to see, but she could understand that the place would appeal to the average postgraduate digger.

Daniel made directly for a table in the corner furthest from the door, where sat a corpulent figure in a pristine white suit.

"Hello, Henry," Daniel said.

"I'm afraid you must have me confused with someone else," the man replied, in a passable impersonation of Sydney Greenstreet. "My name is Ugarte."

"Shouldn't you sound like Peter Lorre then?" Amy asked.

Daniel took a seat at the table. "Come on, Henry," he said. "Don't give us the tourist line."

"I am sorry to disappoint you, but... " The fat man suddenly leaned forward and peered intently at Daniel's face. "Daniel Jackson?" he asked, in a voice that was clearly his own, a sort of low, affably melancholy growl. He gave a short laugh, then waved a thick-fingered hand towards the bar. "Please, sit down, pet," he told Amy. "Should've known it was you, Jackson. Who else brings a classy dame into a dive like this?"

Amy blushed and was grateful for the pall of smoke. "We're not together. Everyone seems to think we are; maybe I should get a t-shirt made up or something."

Henry shook his head. "I always knew anyone as smart as you had to be stupid somehow," he told Daniel.

Daniel grimaced. "Oh, I'm enjoying this trip down memory lane," he sighed. "And speaking of lanes, Henry Lane, this is Amy Kawalsky. Henry came here from Birmingham... "

"The one in England, rather than Alabama," Henry noted.

"... in 1980 to live out his Casablanca fantasies."

"But Casablanca is in Morocco."

"I was misinformed," Henry assured her in a Bogart drawl, before reverting to his Sydney Greenstreet voice. "Alas, much as I have never had the figure for Bogey, I lacked certain fiscal and, shall we say, geopolitical assets which would have enabled me to establish the Blue Parrot in its proper place in Casablanca. A win on the football pools provides a certain degree of financial independence, but not of the same kind as the modern lottery. I was obliged to make one or two compromises, but I feel that I have achieved my intentions with a certain style."

"It's... nice," Amy allowed, warily.

Henry laughed out loud. "You always keep such exquisite and cultured company, Dr Jackson. Small wonder that they all find my establishment so unappealing. Ah, Yasmine my dear; please bring a pot of coffee and four cups, and ask Dr Cinquaid if he would be so kind as to join us."

Yasmine, a strapping young woman in a veil and a black wig, nodded curtly, answered her employer in perfect Arabic with a broad Australian accent and then shimmied away through the smoke.

"One of my finest employees," Henry assured Daniel. "Sadly, soon to leave us."

"Her year out is almost finished?"

"Indeed. In two months time she will take ship for the hallowed halls of Cambridge and become once more a member of respectable society; a sad loss for disreputable society. I take it you are here to pay a call on Julien," he added, without missing a beat.

"You take correctly," Daniel agreed. "He is here then?"

"He's here most days," Henry replied, letting his act slide once more. "Since his missus kicked him out he's been a real wet weekend. I can see why though, having met the other Dr Cinquaid."

"Quite," Amy agreed, in a voice that dripped poison.

Henry's gaze flickered back and forth between the two of them. "Julien Cinquaid isn't like Daniel," he told Amy. "For him, as for so many of us mere mortals, beautiful women are something that happen only rarely."

Amy smiled and this time it was Daniel who blushed.

A flicker of shadow in the surface of Henry's wineglass alerted Amy to the approach of another man. From the distorted reflection she could see that he was tall and lean and dressed in a suit that might once have been as white as the proprietor's.

Henry looked up at the newcomer and beamed. "Ah, Julien, my friend; please sit down, you look as though you are about to collapse."

The tall man slumped disinterestedly into the chair beside Amy. He was all of six foot if he were an inch and in good shape, despite his slovenly appearance. He had a mess of dark-brown hair and his five o'clock shadow had serious jetlag. There lingered about him the remains of charisma, but his charm was not so much rumpled as folded, spindled and mutilated.

Henry began the introductions. "Dr Julien Cinquaid, this delightful young lady is Miss... "

"Captain," Amy corrected automatically.

Henry raised one eyebrow, but made no comment. "Captain Amy Kawalsky; I believe you know her friend already."

"Hello, Julien."

Julien Cinquaid's puffy eyes narrowed for a moment and then widened in recognition. His mournful face cracked into a broad smile. "Daniel!"

Henry Lane plied his three visitors with strong coffee – to wake Julien up – and then pressed them to a surprisingly good meal of kebab and baba ganoush – to sober him up. The three men talked about old times while Amy watched Julien, to size him up, and Daniel strove to keep the discussion away from what he was doing now.

Eventually, Henry felt that he had been neglecting his 'punters' for long enough and he rose slowly to his feet and waddled forth to circulate. Daniel at once asked Julien if they could go somewhere more private to discuss business and Julien invited them back to his flat.

The flat was a dump; it made the Blue Parrot look salubrious and there was not even a hint of artifice at work. When Amy asked, Julien claimed that his mistress was out, but Amy was pretty well convinced that no woman – nor even a self-respecting man – had been within sixty yards of the kitchen for at least a fortnight and she was grateful for her solid, Air Force issue boots as she picked her way through the debris that covered the living room floor. With some trepidation she cleared a space on the couch to sit down. Daniel sat beside her while Julien laboured to brew a pot of coffee.

"If you are trying to put together an expedition, it's Kaira you need to see!" Julien called through. "She has all of the government contacts; my name is mud as far as getting permits goes."

"We have plenty of contacts of our own," Daniel assured him. "What we're after is expertise."

"It was Kaira who suggested we come and see you, in fact," Amy called. "She said there was no one who knew the lower cataracts like you do."

Julien poked his head out of the kitchen door. "She said that?"

Amy nodded.

"Well, I have a few friends out that way," he hedged. "The trouble is I haven't been out there in a year and some more." He brought a pot of coffee in and dumped it on the table, before slumping despondently into a tattered armchair. "I've... I told Kaira I was still going south because I didn't want her to think I was a failure, but the truth is that without her no one will take me on. I can't even get work supervising undergraduates. The few students I did have were all transferred... to Roger Weston," he added in a low growl.

Amy looked at Daniel and he shrugged.

"We're looking for a valley," Amy explained. "A hidden valley, somewhere around the fourth cataract; in the Manasir Desert."

Julien looked at her, long and hard. "Go home," he said at last.

"What?"

"Daniel, I know you," Julien said. "You're like me and that means you won't listen to a warning, not even for the sake of your own life, but if you care for this girl... "

"I am not a girl!"

"... even a little bit, then turn back now."

"Why?" Daniel asked.

"Because the Valley of the Scales is a fool's quest. If you go looking for this place, you will not come back. The valley does not exist; you'll wander in the desert until you die of thirst or go mad or both."

Daniel sat forward in his chair. "How can you be so sure?"

For a moment, it looked as though Julien were in real, physical pain. "Because I looked for it," he said at last. "That was the last straw with Kaira, actually. I took a team of four men and three women on that expedition: Drs Milton Reese and Jane Taylor, and five of our postgraduate students. I was so sure that I knew where we had to go, but I was wrong. We were lost in the desert for weeks and one of the students poured out all our water and disappeared."

"Why?" Amy asked.

Julien shrugged. "I guess she just went mad. The desert affects some people that way. We lost one of my students before we managed to reach an oasis and then another was stung by a scorpion and died there. At last, we were found by a band of nomads who brought us back to the river, but then they wouldn't let Jane go. They knocked us down when we tried to stop them and rode away with her."

Daniel looked horrified. "Then Jane... ?"

Julien gave a helpless shrug. "I just don't know," he admitted. "The authorities said that there was nothing to be done."

"But... the rest of you were alright?"

"Milton was bitten by a fly and developed a fever. By the time we reached a town and could send for help, there was nothing to be done for him. I got back with just two of the students, both of whom quit archaeology, by the by.

"But I didn't learn, even from that!" Julien spat, his voice laden with self-loathing. "I decided to go back; search a different area. Kaira offered me an ultimatum: give it up or give her up. I kept on planning and she threw me out." He shook his head. "She was right," he assured Daniel. "My pride killed those people; my friends and my students. They trusted me and I led them to their deaths. And I would have been prepared to do it again if she hadn't stopped me."

Daniel reached into his jacket.

"Daniel... " Amy put a hand on his arm, but he ignored her and spread the map in front of him.

She looked at Daniel again and the hate was gone. In its place, she was gripped by a wave of pity, for Kaira and Sha're, and for anyone who ever fell for and was loved in turn by such a restless and quixotic soul. Daniel Jackson would never wholly belong to any woman, and that was his tragedy as well as theirs. Her own unrequited passion seemed a small thing in comparison; at least it made her feel alive.

Amy put her hand on the map, making a futile bid to put the genie back into the bottle, but Julien's hand came down before she could draw the parchment aside.

"Iphicles' map," he whispered.

"You've heard of it?" Daniel asked.

"According to Herodotus, an ancient Greek soldier-adventurer named Iphicles once journeyed south along the Nile in search of a lost kingdom, said to have been founded by Odysseus during his wanderings and ruled by his descendent, a great philosopher-king; a sort of former-day Kingdom of Prester John. He never found that kingdom, but after his boat was wrecked and his companions were killed by crocodiles, he was rescued by a tribe unknown to him and, apparently, to Herodotus.

"Although they did not speak his language, this tribe took Iphicles in and tended his wounds, but he was sorely injured and lay in a fever, close to death. As he lay dying, the tribe took him up and bore him into the desert, to the Valley of the Scales. He was laid in a great temple and the priestess of Ma'at came to him and cured his wounds. He left the valley with the tribe and returned to Greece, where he made a map from his memory of the journey, but he died of a fever before he could launch a return expedition. Herodotus speaks of the map, but says that he never saw it himself, only met a man who had.

"The next reference is in an obscure coda to the Travels of Sir John Mandeville, who claimed not only to have seen the map, but to have had a copy made for him by its custodian, a Coptic priest named Solon."

"Like the man who told Plato about Atlantis?" Amy asked doubtfully.

"That is probably where he got the name," Julien agreed. "However, the historian Sir Simon Mandeville – a descendant of John's – unearthed some of his ancestor's papers, which referred to the keeper of the parchment as Aslah, a Moorish hermit. This is not much more reliable than the Solon reference, except... " He turned the map and tapped the bottom corner, where Amy could just make out a Coptic inscription.

"'Ashlar made me, by God's will, in obedience to the record of a Greek traveller'," Daniel read. "So this map supports parts of each account?"

"It certainly does. More importantly, it is made of papyrus – hence it's survival in such good condition – and of a particular kind of papyrus that I have only seen occur in Nubian contexts. Where did you find this?"

Daniel looked to Amy.

"In the papers of Dr Alex Curran," she replied. "He picked them up in a bazaar in Alexandria, along with an awful lot of old tat, but never followed them up since his real love was the Hindu Kush and the Suliman Mountains."

"I've heard of Curran," Julien assured her. "He's not considered very good provenance, since he once claimed to have found King Solomon's Mines in Afghanistan."

Amy and Daniel exchanged another meaningful glance. "Not claimed," Daniel said at last. "Did."

Julien looked up at him and his eyes widened in realisation. "You've been there?" he whispered.

"Yes."

"But... the satellites. Maps... ?"

"They can be wrong."

"Then the Valley of the Scales... ?"

"Is real."

Julien rubbed a hand over his face, struggling to find the words. "I... I know the Manasir tribes in this area," he said. "It's a little way south of where I looked; if only... I can help you," he said, making an effort to banish his regrets.

"Wouldn't think of going without you."

"Daniel," Amy cautioned.

"It's alright," Daniel promised. "Steven Rayner owes me a favour and he's got the influence. We can make this a private expedition, so no one will raise any eyebrows at us taking Julien along."

"That wasn't what I meant," Amy muttered, but only to herself.

Julien licked his lips, nervously. "If you can get the money, I can organise the rest."

Daniel nodded. "Then we leave as soon as it's all ready."

*

Amy loved Daniel, of that she was certain, but sometimes – and especially since his return from the dead – he scared her as well. Partly, it was the fact that a man with Daniel's face had threatened to kill her – again – but also the air of fanaticism that he had always possessed had been heightened since his Ascension. Never a religious man, truth was Daniel's crusade and he had never been one to let trivial matters such as his own impending doom get in the way of his quest; lately, she had wondered if he would stop at the deaths of others.

If she died to bring greater understanding to the world, would he think it worthwhile?

Steven Rayner made good on his debt. He provided funding and appropriate academic credentials for an expedition to explore the ethnic customs of the tribes of the Manasir Desert and Daniel promised never to call him again. Julien was also as good as his word. Even before the money came through, he had made all the other arrangements, including the charter of a small boat and the provision of supplies and equipment for the journey.

"We have all that we need for the journey down the river to Dar al-Manasir on board the boat," Julien explained. "I have arranged for us to transfer at Aswan and again at the third cataract, then to pick up camels and fresh supplies when we leave the boat behind at Shiri. From there, I have arranged for a Manasir guide to take us into the area of the desert indicated by the map." He had clearly spent the last couple of days drying out and he looked far less cadaverous, although the heavy stubble was still very much in evidence.

"Excellent," Daniel said. "And the large men standing all over the boat?"

Julien gave a sheepish grin. "Are here to make sure that the money shows up. You do have the money?" he asked, a little nervously.

"Of course," Daniel sighed. "We also have the permits to cross the border into the Sudan and a letter of recommendation to the Chief of Police in Shiri should we have any local difficulties in Dar al-Manasir."

"Then we should be ready to go, just as soon as we speak to these gentlemen."

While Daniel and Julien went off to deal with the business side of things, Amy – who, as a woman, would be seen as having no part in such matters – took her bags aboard. She stowed her kit in the largest cabin and found an appropriate locker for the rifles that they had brought along. The weapons – bolt-action hunting rifles – would be a useful defence against hippos, as well as providing a source of game if their supplies ran low. She did not plan on shooting at any people during the trip, but there was a danger of pirates, or even terrorists, on the river; for these, she had made sure to pack a pistol, which she now wore beneath her lightweight jacket.

As she emerged onto the deck, Amy saw someone she recognised coming up the gangplank.

"Kaira?" she asked, confused.

Kaira Cinquaid jumped down onto the deck and swung her pack easily from her shoulder. She was dressed much as Amy was, in light trousers and t-shirt, with a loose over-shirt to meet the required standards of modesty. "Good morning, Amy," she replied cheerfully. "Fine weather we have."

"I didn't know you were coming," Amy admitted.

"Neither does Julien, but I'm not going to stay at home and let him get you killed. The children are with their aunt and Roger is looking after the house. How are we for cabins?"

"Two port and two starboard; plus one at the back for the pilot."

Kaira nodded. "I'll go next to you, if that's alright. We can guard each other's virtue." She lifted the pack onto her shoulder and her shirt flapped open with the movement.

Amy raised an eyebrow and nodded towards the revolver that hung at Kaira's hip. "Expecting trouble?"

"Aren't you?"

Amy shrugged and pulled her shirt away from her own shoulder holster. To an uninformed observer, her automatic would have looked a small thing beside Kaira's revolver, but it held twice as many rounds and was every bit as deadly.

"Fancy," Kaira noted. "So that 'Captain' isn't just an affectation, is it?"

Amy shook her head. "US Air Force."

"And what is Daniel Jackson doing swanning around the fourth cataract with a military escort?"

"I'm not his escort," Amy assured her. "We really are just friends and we're here on a sort of spiritual journey. He's been through quite a lot lately and... "

Amy broke off as the two men came aboard. Julien led the way and stopped so suddenly at the sight of Kaira that Daniel ran into the back of him. Julien tumbled from the gangplank onto the deck and Kaira hurried to catch him. She was pushed off-balance herself and stumbled into the deckhouse wall, with Julien pressed hard against her. Daniel kept his balance admirably and jumped down to help Amy pull Julien away from his estranged wife.

"I'm glad to see you too," Kaira said.

Both of the Cinquaids forced a laugh and tried to make light of the accident, but both looked deeply flustered to have been thrust so suddenly – and literally – against one another.

"Did you come to see us off?" Julien asked, affecting not to care either way.

"I came to see that Daniel and Amy come home," Kaira replied, with a stern look that did not quite convince. "I hope you've kept to your usual habits and packed half as much again as you need, because we're four, not three on this voyage."

"Not possible," Julien insisted.

"Tough."

Julien looked to Daniel and Amy for support, but they refused to meet his eye.

"Kaira... "

"We'd better cast off," Karia said coolly. "Sooner or later, Roger will find the note I left him and he'll probably try to have your boat impounded."

Julien made a few more protests, but they were half-hearted. The threat of Roger Weston trying to stop him was water off a duck's back, but the realisation that Kaira had chosen to leave Weston behind was like a tonic to Julien. He dashed off with a spring in his step to hurry the pilot through the last arrangements for their departure.

"Men," Kaira sighed as she followed Amy to the cabins, but she sounded more wistful than disapproving.

Daniel joined Julien in the wheelhouse. The pilot of the ship stood at the wheel and a tall, fierce looking man in a long black robe stood beside him. This man had scarred cheeks, dark skin, and a huge knife in his belt.

"Hello," Daniel said.

"This is Osorkon," Julien said, with forced good cheer. "He is a... representative of one of the merchants who aided me in outfitting this expedition."

Daniel sighed. "Julien, did you borrow money from the Mafia again?"

Osorkon half-drew his knife. "My masters value honour above all things. If you impugn that honour by comparing them with common criminals, I shall feed you to the Children of Sebek."

Daniel studied the man long and hard, trying to determine if he really would try to start a knife fight in the Cairo docks in broad daylight. Osorkon grinned at him, revealing a row of white teeth, all of which had been filed to needle points.

"I withdraw the question," Daniel said. He turned and drew Julien out of the wheelhouse. "Julien; I was joking about the Mafia, but did you in fact borrow money from the Brotherhood of Sebek?"

"Would I be that stupid?" Julien asked.

Daniel just glowered.

"A member of the Brotherhood," Julien admitted. "Not the Brotherhood itself. Besides, they're not as bad as they make out and no one else will give me the credit I needed to make arrangement while you were waiting to hear back from Rayner."

"I gave you the money to pay for everything," Daniel said. "Why is he still here?"

"In case the cheque bounces."

"My master has dealt with Dr Cinquaid before."

Daniel tried not to jump at Osorkon's sudden appearance, but for a big man he had made very little noise when he followed them onto the deck.

"Fabulous," Daniel groaned. "Well, now there are four of us, so you'll have to sleep on deck."

"Until my master's money is repaid, your fourth shall sleep on the deck," Osorkon insisted.

Julien sighed and turned to Daniel. "Well, I'm not throwing Kaira out of her cabin," he said. "What about Amy?"

Daniel shook his head.

"I think there's a camp bed."

Daniel dug out a coin. "Heads or tails," he sighed.

*

"Kaira!" Roger Weston strode through the empty house, uneasiness churning in his gut. He had been feeling this since the appearance of Daniel Jackson and it was getting stronger than ever.

He found the note in the kitchen, tucked under the teapot. He read it, reread it and then crunched it into a ball in his fist. The note said that she was going to try and keep her husband from killing an old friend, but Weston could read between the lines. He knew that she was really saying that she was going back to Julien. He had known it for a long time, of course; only a fool could have missed it. He had hoped though that it would have passed; that she would have put Julien behind her at last and accepted that her future lay with him.

Weston picked up the phone. Three calls to the harbour authority, the Ministry of Antiquities and the customs' service confirmed that Jackson had arranged an expedition into the Sudanese desert, presumably in search of this 'Valley of the Scales'.

He picked up the phone again and dialled.

"Miller? It's Weston." He paused, listening. "Yes, I know I still owe you; that's why I called. I've got something you might be interested in."

*

Amy leaned back on the rail and stretched, enjoying the feeling of the sun on her bare arms. She might still have to grab a jacket any time they came near to another boat or a town, but the captain was broad-minded and on the open river she could get away with showing an almost-normal amount of skin.

At the prow of the boat, Julien and Kaira were gazing ahead to their destination and very pointedly not looking at one another. The air of disinterest that each one tried to generate was a weak façade. Julien had scrubbed and shaved himself as best he could in the circumstances – roping in Amy's assistance to make up for the absence of a shaving mirror or hairdresser aboard – and was unrecognisable as the dishevelled figure Amy had met two days ago. Kaira had shed her over-shirt and now wore only a low-cut, sleeveless t-shirt and, although her face was always turned away from her husband, she was forever angling her body towards him.

Amy gave a slight shiver as the heat of the sun was momentarily blocked. "Aren't they sweet," she sighed, as the shadow moved away from her.

"Tense might be a better word," Daniel offered.

"No. Definitely sweet. I just love the way they're pretending not to notice each other. I wonder which of them will crack first."

Daniel shrugged. "I hope it's Julien," he said.

"I don't. If he cracks and slips in to Kaira's cabin, I'll have to listen to them through the wall. You think they're tense? I'll show you tense if that happens."

"But if Kaira cracks and sneaks into Julien's cabin, I'm sleeping on the camp bed!"

"So they'll come back to Kaira's cabin anyway?"

Daniel laughed. "They're not that patient. I'd end up sleeping in the wheelhouse."

"You can always come bunk with me," Amy offered with a coquettish smile.

"It's a kind offer, but I think I must decline."

"Don't you trust me?"

"I don't trust me."

Amy swallowed hard, but before she could speak, Daniel turned his attention back to the Cinquaids. "What about the folks back home?" he asked.

"Well, we already know that," Amy replied offhandedly. "Julien doesn't have a mistress and Weston doesn't have a hope."

"Harsh."

"Facts of life, and if Weston hadn't been almost as dozy as you when it comes to women... "

"I resent that!"

"Sorn, megalomaniac sarcophagus addict, mass murdering biochemist, Goa'uld, Ashrak," Amy replied. "Angharad and Sha're notwithstanding, you haven't picked well."

"Point; although I wish you wouldn't call Sarah that."

Amy shrugged. "I wish she wasn't as tall, slim or pretty," she pointed out.

"And you forgot Morwen and Josephine."

"It half-killed you to leave them and if we're counting alternate dimensions and time travel, I'm including Ahriman. Anyway, if Weston didn't share your frankly masochistic romantic tendencies, he would have seen this coming from the start. They were always mad about each other; you said it yourself."

"I guess," Daniel sighed. "I'm just a little worried."

"Why?"

"Because Roger Weston is a vindictive man."

*

At dinner that night, Daniel pressed Julien on the matter of what they were to do when they arrived at Shiri. The four of them were alone, Osorkon taking his meals with the captain, and so felt able to talk freely.

"Our guide will take us into the desert and we shall stay with friends in the Manasir tribe. Your cheques should have cleared by the time we reach Aswan and we can leave Osorkon there, or at Shiri if we have to wait longer. I just hope the money is good, otherwise we may have to take him all the way to the Valley."

Daniel shook his head. "That would be a bad idea," he said. "I always make a point of trying to keep lunatic, criminal cults away from sites of great power."

Julien frowned. "Power?" he asked. "The Valley of the Scales... "

"If it exists," Kaira noted.

"... is a site of phenomenal archaeological interest, but not of power."

"If it exists," Amy said, "then it is invisible from space. Believe me, that requires power, and I am not talking about using pyramids to sharpen razor blades."

"And the bulk of the Brotherhood may be no more than an organised crime syndicate, but their leaders and enforcers are fanatics, Julien. No one knows that better than we do," Daniel added. "The last thing we need is for Osorkon to think that he has been given a sign."

"Osorkon?" Kaira asked, appalled. "You said that Osorkon worked for a moneylender, Julien. Surely you didn't... "

"He did," Daniel assured her.

"You borrowed money from the Brotherhood of Sebek?"

"Only from Setneb," Julien assured her.

Kaira gave a short, sharp laugh and Amy looked questioningly at Daniel.

"It's like saying you only borrowed the money from Michael Corleone, not the Mafia."

"Ah."

"Osorkon will stay at Aswan," Julien promised, "or at worst at Shiri. I needed the money in advance and I knew that Daniel would come through."

"Thanks for putting that on me," Daniel muttered. "And then what? After Shiri?"

"I know of a tribe who have contact with the members of an ancient sect; more ancient than the Brotherhood of Sebek. They call themselves the Sons of Ma'at and they come and go from the deep desert where no Manasir would dare to venture. It is said that they alone know the secret location of the Valley of the Scales."

"A lot of things are said," Kaira observed darkly. "Not all of them are true."

Julien looked abashed. "I made some friends in the sect, but I never managed it to persuade them to reveal their secret. I set out to try and find it on my own, following the route they took when they left the Manasir, but if your map is correct then I went in completely the wrong direction. Either the Sons do not know of the Valley or they set out in the wrong direction to baffle fools such as I." He fell silent.

"So we follow the map?" Daniel asked.

Julien nodded. "May we see it again?" he asked.

"Of course."

Daniel and Julien cleared a space on the table and Amy unrolled the map. Julien studied it and indicated an oasis.

"This is where my friends live," he explained. "If the map is accurate, we should be able to find enough landmarks to make our way to the Valley. If it is not, we should know within three days and be able to turn back."

"And what if the Sons of Ma'at try to stop us?" Amy asked.

"Unless Daniel can persuade them where I could not, we turn back," Julien replied. "In their territory, it would be folly to try and fight them."

"Maybe I could persuade them," Amy suggested.

"Unlikely. They do not talk to women; won't even look at them. I do not know why; it is something that they do not speak of. If they find it necessary to address a woman, they do so indirectly, calling on one of the Manasir to convey their words."

Amy shared a weary look with Kaira, then laughed. "They must be a barrel of laughs on a date."

*

Amy strolled idly around the edge of the deckhouse, breathing in the fresh night air. The moon was full and it shone down cold and bright from a sky free from the haze of city lights. They had left the settled shores behind them and the waters of the Nile were clean here. She could almost have dived from the boat and swum alongside, if not for the knowledge that hippos and crocodiles abounded in this stretch of river.

A strange noise drew her towards the front of the boat, a rhythmic, nasal, chanting noise. As she reached the prow, she saw a bundle of black robes lying on the deck and she realised that the chant was coming from the shallow water on the landward side of the boat's anchorage. She walked softly to the rail and looked down.

Osorkon stood to his waist in the water, apparently completely naked. The skin of his arms was a mass of tattoos and scar tissue and his back had been decorated to look like crocodile skin. His head was shaved and his scalp bore a series of jagged characters that she dimly recognised as a variant form of hieratic script. He held his long, curved knife in his hand, but his arms were spread wide in welcome as he sang to an audience of Nile crocodiles.

A pounding on his door dragged Daniel from the edge of sleep. He sat up on his folding bed and went to the door. As he opened it, Amy blew in like a sirocco and threw herself down on Julien's bunk.

"Won't you come in?" Daniel asked.

"Who are the Brotherhood of Sebek?"

"Maybe we should go to your cabin. If Julien comes back... "

"Julien is in Kaira's cabin, having a fight," Amy replied. "The captain is in his and Osorkon is swimming naked with crocodiles, which incidentally places him some way above Steve Irwin on the Kawalsky scale of crazy bastardness. Now who are the Brotherhood of Sebek?"

Daniel sighed and sat down on the bunk beside her. "It's a long story."

"Well, I don't think Julien is coming back anytime soon. From the sound of it they're arguing about – surprise, surprise – the Brotherhood and that could run and run."

"When you were researching Ma'at, did you read any articles by a man named LaRocha?" Daniel asked.

"Etienne LaRocha?"

"That's the man."

"A few," Amy admitted. "I didn't give him much credence."

"You should," Daniel told her. "He's a good researcher. I went to visit him after SG-1 got back from Kôr and I saw the evidence he's collected. Now, I've seen a lot of crackpot conspiracy files – I've compiled more than one of them – and this wasn't crackpot stuff.

"Until about twenty years ago, Etienne LaRocha was a respected anthropologist. Then he started talking about a lost tribe in the Andes who guarded an artefact of great mystical power. You may recognise some of his themes from the work of Dr Nick Ballard."

"You mean it was true?"

"More or less. We sent out a research team after I spoke to Etienne and we found a pretty scabrous and inbred tribe who had spent five thousand years protecting the body of their Goa'uld master, waiting for him to rise again. Clearly some rival had killed him and stolen his technology, but they had carved a sarcophagus out of stone and laid him inside, waiting for him to come back to life."

"And the artefact?"

"No artefact, just their belief in the sarcophagus," Daniel admitted. "But that didn't invalidate Etienne's work. This planet has been a breeding ground, laboratory, sanctuary or play park for dozens of alien races, from pre-Ancient times to the present day. Inevitably, there are remnants of those visits, be they technological relics such as the crystal skulls, survivors such as Hathor or Seth, whole cities like Kôr, or just legends, and there are tribes, cults and sects that guard these remnants. Isn't that the thrust of your thesis?" he asked. "The causes and perpetuation of worship through written and oral propaganda?"

Amy shrugged. "Sort of. So you mean that these cults are still carrying out the commands of ancient alien overlords?"

"Rarely. More commonly they're working from half-remembered fragments of fact that have passed through dogma and legend into mythology, prophecy and superstition. Occasionally there's a real alien involved and, every now and then, some modern nut-job gets hold of something old and weaves their own religion around it. The Brotherhood is a little bit of the first and last.

"Generations ago, when the Goa'uld left this world, the Lord Sobek commanded his worshippers to take an artefact called the Heart of Sobek – or Sebek, as the Brotherhood prefer – to an oasis in the deep desert and protect it until his return. Over time, they have distorted this. They went through a period of heavy blood sacrifice until about five centuries ago, when a Venetian merchant venturer discovered the cult and was consecrated as a priest. Whatever they planned for him, he dragged the Brotherhood hissing and snarling into the commercial age. Now they're a pseudo-religious criminal organisation, protected by a group of fanatical assassins, raised from birth to believe themselves the incarnations of Sebek's will as revealed to the inner circle of high priests through the power of the Heart."

"Why does no one ever tell me about these things?" Amy demanded.

"Because you'd think you had to do something about them and you'd get yourself killed," Daniel replied. "I've had the NID looking for the Heart for two years, with nothing much to show for it but two dead agents."

"You persuaded the NID to go looking for a legend?"

"More than a legend. During the System Lord Summit, I overheard Bastet and Kali discussing their search for an artefact that Sobek had hidden from them; the Heart. I persuaded Jack to ask for a follow-up mission to Bastet's library world and we were able to find out about the Brotherhood's origins there. There were a few references to the Heart being abandoned along with Sobek's fortress on Earth and, since Bastet clearly wanted it, we decided we should try and get to it first."

"But you knew about the Brotherhood before that? I mean, you and the Cinquaids seem well-acquainted with them."

Daniel grimaced. "Julien and I met them on a dig in 1991," he admitted. "I was looking for evidence for my theories and I joined one of his wilder expeditions. We were looking for the tomb of a Hiksos king and discovered one of the Brotherhood's secret temples by mistake."

"And you lived to tell the tale?"

"Oh, they're eminently reasonable people," Daniel assured Amy. "They weren't about to waste the chance to make use of two noted – and expendable – archaeological minds. They made us an offer we couldn't refuse: we had to find, retrieve and hand over to them a cache of priceless relics in exchange for our lives."

"You didn't!"

"Kaira's life was also on the line," he assured her, "even though she had wisely stayed at home, they found out about her. The Brotherhood are well informed and we had no choice but to do as they asked and hope they never came back to ask for more. Glad to say I haven't heard from them since, but I guess they stayed in touch with Julien."

"And Setneb?"

"Setneb was the high priest of that temple."

Amy raised an eyebrow archly. "Tell me Daniel: is this high priestess another name to add to your list of ill-advised conquests?"

"No," Daniel replied, firmly. "After seven years on the Stargate program, Setneb remains one of the most dangerous women I have ever met. She's not part of the real power in the Brotherhood – the high priests answer to the criminal element these days – but she is cunning, ruthless and utterly devoted to her cause. A large section of the enforcer-cult answers to her as though she were a goddess. How – never mind why – Julien stayed in touch with her is a mystery to me, but I guess she feels that she isn't done with him yet."

"That could explain why Kaira is so upset that he's been dealing with her."

"I just hope his children don't end up getting hurt," Daniel said. "Setneb is not someone to cross lightly and if anything goes wrong... "

"I hope there isn't more to this than he's letting on," Amy replied.

Daniel gave her a questioning look.

"Why would a ruthless high priestess want to fund an archaeological expedition? Not for the intellectual curiosity and certainly not for the return on her investment. You've been thinking loan shark, but if what you're saying is true then this girl isn't Michael Corleone, she's worse than that. The Brotherhood may be a crime syndicate, but you aren't describing someone who wants money. If she was willing to lend the cash – and Julien has been pretty insistent that this was a personal loan – then she thinks she'll get what she wants in return."

"And that means the return of Sebek," Daniel realised.

"She knows or she guesses where we're going," Amy agreed, "and she thinks it's the key to the return of her god, because she doesn't know that his head is nailed to a wall in Bubastis."

Daniel sighed. "Well, this is another fine mess Julien's gotten me into."

*

Shiri Island, Dar al-Manasir

After a journey of twelve days and some fourteen-hundred miles, involving two changes of boat and the portage of the third cataract, the expedition arrived at the island town of Shiri, administrative centre of the Dar al-Manasir region of the Nubian desert.

Despite Julien's optimism, Osorkon was still with them, but the big man walked away from the main group at the landing stage and Daniel had some hope that they would be able to lose him. They transferred their gear from the river boat to a ferry that would take them from the island to the north shore and paid the ferryman extra to leave early. Julien's guide was waiting for them and they loaded up the camels as quickly as they could.

It was just as they were ready to depart that another camel pulled up alongside Daniel's.

"The money has not been paid," Osorkon announced.

"That's not possible," Daniel replied.

"It is so," Osorkon growled. "Do you call me a liar?"

Amy eased her camel over towards them. "Any trouble?" she asked blandly.

"No trouble." Daniel nudged his steed forward so that he was directly between Amy and Osorkon. It probably was not the safest place to be, but left to her own devices it was all too likely that Amy would decide to start a fight with Osorkon; a fight that he knew she would likely lose, despite her skill.

Osorkon flashed a razor-toothed grin at Daniel and said in Arabic: "The girl has spirit. She would fetch a high price."

"The woman speaks Arabic," Amy assured him, "and will fetch you such a smack if you don't watch yourself."

"Your pardon, my lady." Osorkon's grin grew wider and he urged his camel ahead of them.

"Calm down, Amy," Daniel cautioned.

"Easy for you to say; it's not you he's insulting."

"Actually, it is. He's taunting me because he knows I'm not stupid enough to fight him; by his lights, I'm a coward because I won't stand up for my woman."

Amy shook her head. "Why does everyone but you think we make such a wonderful couple?"

"I think he's genuinely impressed by you," Daniel added.

"I'm just another woman to him, hardly worthy of notice," Amy snorted.

"He's one of Setneb's under-priests," Daniel reminded her. "He works for a woman, so he really isn't going to look down on you for being one."

"Under-priest?" Amy asked. "I thought he was a temple enforcer."

"That croc-charming thing you saw isn't something they teach just anyone. I checked with Julien – who is alarmingly well-informed on the subject – and he says only priests learn to swim with the Children of Sebek. Osorkon may be giving us a good impersonation of a goon, but he's nothing of the sort. He's an intelligent and well-trained member of the Sebekite clergy."

"So why doesn't he rib Julien about Kaira?" Amy asked. "Is there history here that I don't know about?"

"I've never met him before," Daniel assured her.

"If not him, then... Daniel, give me a straight answer; did you or did you not nail the priestess?"

Daniel sighed. "Amy, if I had done, then both of us would be dead. Priestesses of Sebek are sacrosanct and only Sebek may touch them."

"Really?" Amy's eyes widened slightly. "No wonder she's so eager for him to get back."

With a look of affectionate impatience, Daniel moved his camel forward, thus ending the discussion. After a moment, Osorkon dropped back alongside him.

"Thought up a few more choice barbs?" Daniel asked.

"No, Dr Jackson," Osorkon replied, in a very different voice. His accent remained, but the slightly sing-song intonation of the Hollywood Berber had gone.

Daniel sensed that this was serious. "What is it?"

"You are being followed," Osorkon replied. "I do not know by whom, but they have been observed several times as they passed along the Nile in your wake."

"Good to know someone's keeping an eye on us," Daniel drawled.

"Your safety is a matter of some concern, at least so long as you owe us money."

"Good to know."

"Be wary, Dr Jackson. Much can happen in the desert and I should not like to see an innocent girl come to harm."

Daniel shook his head in amazement. "She's a very capable young woman and about as innocent and helpless as you are. She is also here strictly of her own volition; I'm not dragging her heartlessly into peril, she's dragging me. Why does no one worry about me?"

"Because this is your life," Osorkon replied.

"It's hers as well."

"I do not think so. What she does, she does for you, Dr Jackson; it is your obsession that drives her."

"I am not obsessed," Daniel insisted, but Osorkon urged his camel away again. "I am not obsessed!"

*

The journey into the desert took three days of hot, sweaty travel. As they laboured under the blazing sun towards a distant row of craggy hills, Amy began to question the wisdom of ever setting out on this quest. It was not the worst that she had ever had to endure, not by a long stretch, but she had been born of Polish parents in the northern United States and she had a low tolerance for heat; she had almost preferred Antarctica. Her one consolation was that Daniel, an East Coast boy, was doing little better.

"How're you holding up?" Kaira asked, with irritating brightness. Egyptian born, she was suffering in the heat, but a lot less than Amy.

"Badly," Amy groused. "I'm not made for these conditions."

"No one is; no one human, anyway. Don't worry, though; we're almost there. We should arrive at the village this evening if you don't mind riding a little after sunset."

"Not at all," Amy assured her. "You know where we're going then?"

"Oh, yes. I wasn't on Julien's expedition to find the Valley, but only because I couldn't leave the children; Felise was very small and she came down sick the week we were due to leave. I'd been on all of his reconnaissance trips with him and I told him it was a fool's quest, but I wasn't about to let him go off alone if I could help it; especially not with Jane Taylor."

"I doubt he ever even looked at her."

"Oh, I think he did; she was quite something to look at." Kaira grimaced. "I don't like to speak ill of her after what happened, but she had a reputation as well; slept her way up, by most accounts, including her own."

"You are kidding, right?"

"Nice looking girl like you could go far in archaeology following her example," Kaira said playfully.

"That's not... Don't even joke."

"I'm sorry," Kaira said sincerely.

"There are rumours," Amy admitted, in answer to the unasked question. "I am very young to have made captain and in all honesty I can't deny that my looks played a part in my promotion. There was an incident and it all got very public. They wanted a hero for the papers and I photographed well; with generals and politicians lauding my tactical brilliance, it made them look bad if I wasn't given some conspicuous recognition of that brilliance."

"That must be tough to live down."

"Tough to live up to, more like. Most captains struggle to show themselves deserving of a promotion to major; I have to defend my right to the bars I have."

"Daniel doesn't seem to doubt you," Kaira noted.

"He knows me better than most," Amy replied, "but he also doesn't understand what those bars mean. Promotion is not a reward. It's not enough that I did something well; being a captain means I have to continue to display a particular level of ability and authority and I'm not sure that I do."

Kaira moved her camel closer to Amy's and took the younger woman's hand. "I think he understands better than you might think, and he still thinks you deserve it."

Amy shook her head. "You're a very difficult woman to be jealous of," she said.

As the sun set and the chill of the night began to steal over the desert, their destination at last came into view; a small village nestled in the shadow of a broken wall, the latter a cyclopean relict of some ancient structure. At the centre of a collection of well-made, mud brick houses stood a large church made of whitewashed stone.

"It looks like a mission station," Daniel said.

"Most of the Manasir in this area still live largely nomadic lives," Julien explained. "This was a mission, originally. Now it's the local centre of Christian worship."

Amy was bemused. "I thought the Sudan was Muslim?"

"In purely demographic terms it is, but geographically the Sunni population is concentrated in the north. Once you get further south you find a blend of tribal religions and Christianity. The priest here – Father Abas – is Coptic, but he ministers to Copts, Catholics and even a few Anglicans. It's an odd blend, but he's easy-going enough to make it work." Julien moved his camel closer to the others. "The Sons of Ma'at camp behind the wall. I'll ask Father Abas to keep Osorkon occupied while Daniel and I slip away to speak to them."

"And we'll sit and have tea and scones with the vicar. Oh won't it be jolly!" Amy simpered.

"No need for sarcasm."

"I know, but I'm so good at it."

"Hopefully," Daniel took up, "we can persuade the Sons to take us all to the Valley, but they may not want to take women with them."

"They may not want to take us," Julien reminded him.

"In which case, there is always the map; I'd just rather go through channels and avoid trouble later on."

"What kind of trouble are you expecting?" Kaira asked.

"The pointy kind."

"And while you run into pointy trouble, Amy and I sit in the mission church... "

"... drinking tea with the vicar... "

"... and worry about you?"

"Anything else would almost certainly increase both the quantity of trouble and its pointiness," Julien assured his wife.

Kaira sighed. "Do you really think he'll have scones?"

Father Abas was a wiry man of advancing, but indeterminate years, with a shock of white hair and a broad, beaming smile. He was the sort of person who looked as though he had never been and could never be angry with anyone for any reason.

"Julien!" he called, as soon as he saw them approaching. "It is good to see you again, my friend." A cloud passed over the priest's features. "I trust this does not mean that you plan to set out on another fool's quest."

"No fool's quests," Julien promised. "I'm just showing an old friend the area. Father Dula Abas, this is Dr Daniel Jackson and his friend Amy Kawalsky. You know my wife, of course."

"Of course," Abas replied. "How could I forget? Welcome, Kaira."

"Thank you, Father Abas. I hope that you will allow me to pay my respects to Satia."

Father Abas inclined his head to conceal a look of anguish. "Of course, Kaira. If you wish to visit the grave, Aia will take you there. I seldom go myself; the pain is ever fresh in my heart. And who is this?" he added, looking up at the looming form of Osorkon.

"This is Osorkon," Julien replied. "A... representative of the Egyptian Ministry of Antiquities."

"Their hiring policies must have changed somewhat," the priest noted. "Well; do come in, all of you. We saw the camels and Aia is making tea."

"Father Abas's wife died fifteen years ago," Julien explained in a whisper as they dismounted from the camels. "Aia is their daughter."

"She was only four when her mother died and she's been looking after him ever since," Kaira added.

Father Abas led the way into the back of the church, which was clearly his house. At the door, Osorkon stopped and bowed low before entering. "I thank you for accepting me into your house, Father Abas," he said gravely. As he straightened up, his dark eyes flashed left and right, challenging anyone to comment.

"You are quite welcome, Osorkon," Father Abas assured him.

The door led them into a kitchen, where a girl was preparing a pot of tea. Her hair was jet black and her skin even darker than her father's.

"Aia?" Kaira asked uncertainly. "My how you've grown."

"Dr Cinquaid," the girl replied, delighted. She set down her teaspoon and crossed the kitchen to throw her arms around Kaira. "It is good to see you! And Dr Cinquaid," she added, turning to embrace Julien.

Kaira turned to her husband and raised an eyebrow. "Julien; you didn't mention that our little Aia had grown up to be so lovely," she noted in a voice that etched webs of frost in the hot, dry desert air. Aia grinned, apparently impervious to Kaira's tone.

Julien wisely made no reply as he hugged Aia warmly, although there was a slight awkwardness that suggested she had been rather less mature the last time they had embraced.

Introductions were made and it was established that this was the priest's daughter, Aia Abas, and that she looked on the free-spirited and adventurous Kaira as a sort of walking goddess. When Amy was presented to her as a traveller and soldier, she gaped in open awe.

Osorkon was viewed with a kind of suspicion from the first, although he did nothing to earn that suspicion while he was there, treating the priest and his daughter with absolute respect and perfect courtesy. Father Abas was only too willing to aid Julien and Daniel in evading the powerful Egyptian and to that end he launched into a long-winded sermon on the complications of ecumenism in the conversion of the heathen which Osorkon seemed to feel honour-bound to listen to attentively.

As soon as the tea was drunk, the two men went to clear up the kitchen and slipped quietly out of the church.

About ten minutes after Daniel and Julien's departure, Aia leaned over and touched Amy on the sleeve. "Come and see the garden," she invited in a whisper. She stood and made their apologies to her father, then led Amy and Kaira from the living room. She took them through the pantry and out into the back yard of the church, where a small garden had been dug and nurtured in the unpromising soil. The moon was nearly dark, but there was a large electric floodlight mounted on the wall of the church. By its brilliant light, Amy and Kaira could see that the gardener had made the desert bloom.

"It's beautiful," Amy said.

"I'll show you it again tomorrow, when the flowers are out," Aia promised. "That's when it is at its best. I just brought you out here now because you looked at though you were about to fall asleep. My father is not usually this boring, I promise you."

"I'm fairly sure he's being boring on commission," Amy replied.

Kaira stepped down to the small lawn and lay down on the grass. "This is lovely!"

Aia and Amy sat down beside Kaira and Amy went on: "Julien wanted your father to distract Osorkon so that he and Daniel could slip away and conduct manly dealings with their manly friends."

"Hah!" Kaira snapped.

"It is not much fun being a woman, is it?" Aia asked.

"Sometimes it's okay," Amy replied. "I have a pretty exciting life, certainly, but every now and then I run up against one of these walls; a tribe or sect or brotherhood who just won't deal with women or, in extremis, insist I wear a veil before they'll even talk to my comrades in my presence."

"It's worse when you live and work in Egypt," Kaira assured her. "I have a dazzling reputation and contacts throughout the Ministry, but I still have trouble persuading other academics that they should talk to me about anything but my children."

"All I ever seem to do is keep the house and garden and read books,"

"Why is there never an Amazon tribe who won't talk to men?" Amy sighed. "Why do we put up with them?"

"Because they're cute?" Kaira suggested.

"Is that what's kept you interested in Julien?"

Kaira shook her head. "Not entirely, anyway. I never wanted to marry him, you know? I knew from the beginning that it was a bad idea. He was too... lightweight to make a good husband, as though the slightest puff of wind would drag him away on another wild adventure. I told myself that I was too smart to get involved with a man like that and promised myself I wouldn't let myself fall for him, but I suppose you know how hard it is to keep that kind of promise?"

Amy nodded ruefully.

"He was so determined and so sincere that I just couldn't hold out. Before I really knew what was happening, I was in love with him. I never regretted that, although I was right about the marriage. He's a beautiful, dynamic man, but a crappy husband. If it were practical, I'd just sleep with Julien and keep someone more reliable at home to help with the housework. Two children make it difficult to do any real work, especially if you have to raise them on your own half the time."

"Why did you not make him stay at home?" Aia asked.

"Because I fell in love with a restless man. Even if I could force him to abandon his adventures, I'd destroy the man I love. When I tried... You saw what became of him," she told Amy.

Amy nodded. "I'm sorry," she said.

"Sorry?"

"I'm sorry that Daniel brought this quest back into your life. Julien tried to change, I'm sure of it, but when Daniel showed him the map... "

Kaira sat up. "Don't," she said. "Don't apologise for Daniel. What he does is not your fault, Amy. You only think that because you love him and want to protect him."

"I... " Amy blushed and looked away.

"So," Aia said, interrupting the awkward moment, "your men have gone to see the snake binders?"

"The who?"

"The Sons of Ma'at, as they call themselves," Aia explained. "We call them snake binders because they tie dead snakes to their staffs."

Kaira laughed. "What an extraordinary way to behave."

"Indeed," Amy said thoughtfully.

*

Daniel estimated that the wall had once towered more than thirty feet high and formed part of a curtain, surrounding a roughly square compound some one hundred yards square. Three sides of the wall had collapsed, leaving only the one stretch half-standing. In the shadow of this ancient edifice, a small group of travellers had set up camp. Half a dozen tents and the same number of camels were arrayed around a small fire. For a moment as he looked over the edge of the broken wall, Daniel could see no people in the entire camp, but then the flickering shadows around the fire shifted and resolved into a number of robed forms.

"Come on," Julien said. "No point skulking around; they already know we're here."

Julien jumped down from the wall with Daniel on his heels. Three robed figures rose from beside the fire and the three of them turned towards the newcomers, their faces swathed in cloth. Another pair stayed seated and a sixth could be seen tending to the camels.

The tallest of the standing men moved forward and reached up to push the hood back from his face. He looked more Bedouin than Manasir and his face had a distinctly aquiline cast, with sharp eyes and a hooked nose. "Dr Cinquaid," he said in a soft voice. "It has been a long time since we have seen you in the Manasir Desert." He reached a hand into his robe.

"Monnyak!" Julien exclaimed, with an air of bonhomie. He held his hands wide to show that he at least had no intention of starting a fight. "How are things with you?"

"You attempted to follow us and find the Valley," Monnyak accused.

"Five years ago," Julien replied blandly, adding with a reasonable attempt at levity: "It did not end well."

"We are aware of this. When we brought the girl to our elders... "

"What girl?" Julien asked, aghast.

"She called herself Lieta Strong."

Julien's face was almost white with horror.

"Julien?" Daniel asked.

"Lieta Strong was my student," Julien explained. "The one who sabotaged our expedition and almost killed us all. Was she working for you?"

"We could not work with women," Monnyak insisted. It struck Daniel that he sounded as though the idea was somehow embarrassing, rather than offensive. "We could especially not have worked with this woman. The elders, the most honoured of the Sons, spoke to her; she told us that she had been sent to protect the Valley of the Scales from those who would abuse its power. She was a fool and believed that the Valley was some kind of reservoir of supernatural energy."

Julien's eyes flickered towards Daniel, no doubt recalling his friend's warnings regarding the power of the Valley.

"What happened to Lieta?" Julien asked.

"We do not know. She was to be taken to the Valley, but she escaped from our custody, wounding one of our order as she fled. We pursued her, but she reached the river ahead of us."

"So she escaped?"

"More likely the crocodiles took her," Monnyak replied regretfully. "We would not have wished her harmed; the Sons of Ma'at do not kill lightly. Now, Dr Cinquaid; what brings you back here?"

"The same thing. My friend, Dr Daniel Jackson, wishes to find the Valley for reasons of his own."

"We take none to the Valley of the Scales, not even our own number."

Julien shrugged. "You're up, Daniel."

Daniel stepped forward. "You must understand," he began, "it is of the greatest importance that I find the Valley. A year of my life is lost to me; my memories are locked and I believe that only Ma'at could unlock them."

Monnyak frowned. He shook his head once and moved away towards the camels. He spoke to the camel-drover in hushed tones.

"Good story," Julien murmured.

"No story. It's the honest truth."

"Your life is even stranger than mine."

Monnyak came back towards the two archaeologists and the drover came with him. This second man pushed the hood away from his face; Daniel was surprised to see that he was no Bedouin, but more like a Bantu in his features. A glance at their hands showed that the other Sons had skin tones ranging from dark to very fair and Daniel realised that they were not related; not family, nor even of the same tribe.

"I am Yera. Monnyak says that you have a singular story of lost memory."

"Not lost," Daniel corrected. "Locked. A year of my life has been locked away inside my mind and I believe that Ma'at could help me to release it."

"Ma'at?" Yera asked. "You speak as though you expect to meet the goddess herself in the Valley."

"I do."

Julien looked dumbstruck. For a moment, the Sons of Ma'at were silent and then they burst out laughing. Daniel's face flamed and he felt like a fool; the Valley must be nothing more than an archaeological treasure-trove after all.

As suddenly as they had begun, the Sons stopped laughing. They stared past Daniel for a moment and then pointedly looked away.

"Did I miss a joke?" Amy asked, striding purposefully to Daniel's side. Kaira followed her and stood next to her husband.

"Amy," Daniel hissed in exasperation.

Amy flashed Daniel a grin and stepped past him and past Yera and Monnyak. She stooped where one of the Sons had been sitting and lifted a long, wooden staff. Twin sprays of feathers had been bound to the top of the staff and a pair of empty snakeskins had been tied in intertwining spirals around its length.

"Like it?" she asked Daniel.

"A caduceus?" Daniel asked.

"Please ask her to put down that staff," Yera begged Daniel.

"Ask her yourself!" Daniel challenged.

"It's a nice job," Amy went on, "but not as good as mine." So saying, she hooked her naquadah amulet out of her jacket. It gleamed and shone in the light of the fire.

Yera lifted his eyes momentarily towards Amy and gasped in amazement. "The talisman," he whispered. "One of the chosen."

"So it would seem," Amy agreed. "Will you take us to the Valley, please?"

"We can not take her all the way to the Valley," Yera insisted, speaking to Daniel, rather than to Amy. "But we shall bring her to the edge of the shadow."

"All of us," Amy insisted.

"She is the chosen."

"And don't you forget it!" Amy was clearly losing patience with a man who would not address her directly.

There was a short pause, during which Yera and Monnyak exchanged a meaningful glance.

"We will take her," Yera insisted, "but you and Dr Cinquaid may follow."

"Drs," Daniel noted. "Kaira comes too."

"Unacceptable. She can not travel with us; it would not be right. She must return to the church."

No!" Amy was intractable.

"It is alright," Kaira sighed. "This is not my quest, after all. I shall stay here; you can tell me about it when you come back."

Julien looked at his wife, then back at Yera. "Good luck, Daniel," he said, in a hoarse, tear-choked voice.

Daniel and Kaira both turned to stare at Julien.

"Julien... " Kaira began.

"Don't!" he interrupted. "If you argue, I'll give in. Let's just go back to the church."

Daniel took a step forward, but Amy caught his arm. "No."

"But Amy; this is his... "

"His doom!" she insisted. "His obsession; his addiction. It will never make him as happy as she can and I won't let you drag him away from her. Just let him go to her. Please. Let them have what... "

"Amy?"

"What we never can," Amy whispered.

Daniel closed his eyes. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I didn't think."

Amy's hand tightened on his arm. "Don't worry about it," she said. "Just let them go back. Together."

"Am I really that bad?"

"Not bad. You're just... hard work, sometimes."

Daniel covered Amy's hand with his own. "I'm very sorry," he said.

"It's just you being you."

"So, shall we go?"

"Let's."

*

Father Abas looked up at a knock on the door. "My," he remarked. "I can't remember such a day for visitors. If you will excuse me?"

"Of course, Father," Osorkon replied respectfully. He waited patiently as the priest walked to the door, but as he sat there, he realised that in his attentiveness to Father Abas's words he had lost track of the four travellers. He rose to his feet and went to the kitchen and from there out to the garden; the former was empty, the latter the same, save for young Aia.

"Can I help you, sir?" Aia asked.

"Where are the others?"

Aia shrugged. "I do not know," she assured him.

Osorkon took a threatening step forward. "Do not test me, girl," he growled.

The young woman blenched and half-rose from her seat in fear, but before anything else could occur, they heard the sound of an angry shout from the front of the house.

Osorkon looked up, then back to Aia. "Stay here," he ordered her. "Keep quiet."

"But... " Aia began.

Ignoring her, the Sebekite priest sprang up and grabbed at the edge of the flat roof of the priest's home. He ran swiftly across to where the steep slope of the spire rose up and pressed himself against the edge of the tower. Holding on to the guttering, he leaned out over the side of the building and looked down onto the area before the side door.

Two men stood before the door; Osorkon knew Dr Roger Weston from his initial reconnaissance of the Cinquaid residence, but the second man, a lean, violent individual, was unknown to him. Their attitude to the priest was disrespectful, but Osorkon restrained himself from teaching them a lesson. He had not risen to his current rank by being rash and he could sense – even if he could not see – the men who waited in the shadows behind these two; men of violence who smelled of sweat and gun oil.

"I must ask you to leave!" Father Abas was protesting.

"We just need to find Kaira Cinquaid," Weston assured him smoothly. The other man put the lie to this with the way he kept his hand on the butt of a pistol at his belt. "I am her fiancé and we need to bring her back to Cairo. Her daughter is ill, you see."

"So you keep saying, but I am afraid that I do not believe you."

"We don't care what you believe," the other man spat. "Tell us where they are or we will start hurting you."

"Miller!" Weston protested.

"Search the house!" Miller ordered. Three men appeared out of the darkness.

The priest stepped in front of the door in a futile act of defiance. "No!"

Osorkon felt a shiver of fear. He knew that Father Abas was thinking of his daughter; the Cinquaids might be able to look after themselves, but Aia was a hostage just waiting to be taken. He moved away from the edge of the roof, padded silently across towards the garden and dropped down beside the girl.

"What's happening?" Aia asked.

Osorkon took a small, golden token, decorated with the image of a crocodile – the sign of the Brotherhood – from his belt pouch. "Take this," he ordered. "Go around the back of the church, get my camel and ride. She will know which way to go and she will take you to my friends. Give them the token and tell their leader that there are others involved; wolf's heads, at least twelve of them."

"Wolf's heads?"

"Mercenaries," he muttered angrily. "Killers for hire."

"Then my father... ?"

"I will look after him," Osorkon promised. "You must go." He looked up at a sound from the pantry. "Quickly."

"But... "

"Go!" Osorkon turned to the door and drew the knife from his belt.

Aia fled; from behind her, she heard a crash as the pantry door was broken open, then a cry of pain. The cry came from a man, but not, she thought, from Osorkon. She did her best to blot out the fear that threatened to overwhelm her and she ran.

*

Dawn

Amy sat, hunched and dozing, on the back of her camel and muttered angrily to herself. They had been riding through the night along the banks of a dried out river and she was tired and unhappy. Despite numerous attempts and her talisman notwithstanding, the Sons of Ma'at still refused to speak to her, although they talked willingly to Daniel.

Her eyes drooped closed and Amy began to slip sideways in her saddle. A hand was suddenly there on her arm and she woke with a start. To her surprise, the sky was growing light.

"Are you alright?" Daniel asked kindly.

Amy shrugged. "As well as can be expected. I just hope that someone in the Valley will deign to talk to a mere woman or this is going to be a pretty dull trip."

Daniel chuckled.

"Daniel?"

"Sorry."

"What?"

"I just think it's amusing that even you think that they won't talk to you because you're just a woman."

Amy narrowed her eyes dangerously. "Explain."

"They revere women," Daniel told her.

"Oh, well that's much better."

"I suppose because they see Ma'at as a goddess, they see women as closer to her than they are. They won't speak to you for the same reason that you can't go up to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs and say 'hey Dick, how's business?' Or something like that, anyway."

"Reeeally fun on dates," Amy muttered.

"I don't think they date much... or in fact, at all. They're the Sons of Ma'at; an all-male sect, not a tribe. No women, no children. You must have noticed there's almost no resemblance between them: that's because they're not related."

Amy shrugged. "There's no future in celibacy, you know."

"And yet they have not died out. I wonder where a deep-desert sect recruits," Daniel mused. "Where do you find people who want to spend their lives watching over a paradisiacal valley that they never enter?"

"The French Foreign Legion old boys' club?" Amy looked around, sensing a change in the air. "Is it just me, or are they getting nervous?"

"We are here!" Yera announced, without warning; he did indeed sound nervous.

The three Sons stopped their camels and slipped out of the saddles.

 "We are nowhere," Amy noted.

"Patience, Grasshopper," Daniel counselled. He dismounted and looked around. Their guides had brought them to a place where the desert stretched away on all sides. A few miles ahead of them, cliff walls rose up, but here all was flat sand save for a number of small mounds which stood out from the sand.

"You are not ancient and wise," Amy told him acidly.

"But I was an Ancient, of sorts, and according to Jack I'm a wiseass."

"Certainly true. I just don't know if we should have... " She broke off as the air in front of them rippled, as though in a heat haze, and three figures appeared from that shimmer.

They were tall and proud; two men, one black and one Arabic, and a Caucasian woman with very long, pure white hair. They wore long, flowing white robes and carried slender white staffs, carved into the shape of the caduceus emblem. Amy caught her breath at the sight of those staffs; Daniel stared in amazement at the woman with white hair.

The black man stepped forward and addressed the Sons. "Thank you," he said. "You have done well. We shall take these people on from here; you may return with our blessings."

"Thank you, Sir," Yera said gratefully. "Good luck, Dr Jackson; Madam," he added, not quite looking at Amy.

With what seemed to Amy to be undignified haste, the Sons returned to their camels and rode away. Not one of the three looked back and their nervousness seemed to have escalated to a sort of terror and awe that she had rarely seen outside of a Goa'uld temple.

Daniel took a step towards the white-haired woman, who smiled warmly at him.

"You two know each other?" Amy asked.

"Amy Kawalsky," Daniel said. "This is Dr Jane Taylor."

Jane Taylor grinned, broadly. "And we most certainly know one another."

Amy groaned. "Daniel, Daniel, Daniel."

"What?" he demanded. "Shall we dig up your list of university conquests and/or conquerors?"

Amy had the grace to blush at that.

Jane laughed, but it was not a mean laugh; in fact, it was the kind of laugh that no one could manage if they even remembered what it was like to be mean. "Welcome," she said, "to the Valley of the Scales."

"What valley? We're in the middle of a flat desert," Amy pointed out. "There isn't a rise or fall in sight."

Jane's smile deepened. She swept out an inviting arm. "Come."

As she said this, Jane and her two companions turned, walked back into the heat haze and vanished.

"Come on, then," Daniel said.

"I... I'm not sure."

Daniel reached out and took Amy's hand.

Amy looked up and smiled at him. "Tease," she accused and then they stepped forward into the shimmer. Instead of dispersing as they approached, the haze thickened around them; the air seemed like treacle and resisted their progress, but they pushed on and a moment later everything was clear. The morning sun shone through a cleft in a high cliff, illuminating a broad, green valley and sparkling off the babbling waters of a clear, blue river.

"The hell?" Amy asked. She turned and looked over her shoulder and saw the desert, just as it had been; the river vanished into the Earth and she could see the Sons riding away along the edge of its empty course.

"It's all in the mind," Daniel told her.

"A cloaking device; like the one on the valley of Kôr."

"Something of the sort, although this is Ancient tech or I'm a Dutchman."

"You are a Dutchman."

"Only a little bit."

*

Osorkon's camel trotted easily towards a rough camp. Dark-robed figures approached and surrounded Aia as the beast slowed to a halt. She was exhausted and afraid and the dark forms seemed to loom up at her; she towered over them from her saddle, but it felt as though they were taller, blotting out the rising sun.

One of the men moved forward and Aia flinched away from him. She snapped into waking as she slipped and began to fall from her saddle; she scrabbled for the reins but could not keep from overbalancing. At the last moment, rough hands caught her and thrust her back, upright and then over, so that she toppled the other way. She fell straight into the arms of the first man and he swept her out of her seat and deposited her on her feet. She tried to balance, but could not, and she slumped in a boneless heap on the cool sand.

The men around her laughed out loud. Aia ducked her head to hide her blushes and her tears.

The hands seized her again and dragged her to her feet. She clutched at one of the men for support and once more the crowd laughed at her. An arm circled her waist and one of the laughs took on a lewd tone.

"Let me go!" she cried, but the only answer was more laughter.

She struggled and kicked and dragged herself free, only to fall against another of her attackers. Another arm hooked around her, but there was something different in this grip.

A voice snapped out a fierce command and the laughter stopped. The crowd melted away and Aia was set soundly on her feet. The girl turned to face her rescuer and saw a muscular, dark-haired young woman with her left arm – the arm that had not supported Aia – withered and twisted.

Aia opened her mouth to speak.

"Crocodile," the woman interrupted, anticipating what must usually have been the first question that anyone asked her, but that was not what had been on Aia's mind.

"I know you," Aia said. "You're Lieta Strong."

*

The valley was dotted with small pagodas, shrines and temples, built in a dozen architectural styles. There was no obvious order to the layout, but there was a clear centre of the settlement: a low-roofed wooden hall, large enough to house some fifty people in comfort.

"How did you get here?" Daniel asked Jane. "We heard you were carried away by a Manasir tribe."

"I got lucky," Jane replied with a laugh. "Honestly; carried away. What an imagination Julien has. No; their leader took a shine to me and I agreed to go with them in exchange for their rescue of the others. By that time, it seemed a pretty small price to pay. They were a sort of gang – small-time smugglers with aspirations of banditry – and on the way back to their main camp, they decided to try and bushwhack a trio of innocent travellers."

"Sons of Ma'at?"

Jane nodded. "They made short work of my new husband and his friends, then took me along without a word. I told my story to the elders of the sect and they sent me on to the Valley. I was offered the chance to come home, but... Well; I decided I'd rather stay here. I've been a rather promising student, if I do say so myself."

"Student?" Amy asked. "What are you learning?"

"Ascension," Daniel said certainly.

"Steps along the way," Jane corrected. "And baby steps at that. We train to overcome the limitations of our physical forms, as a preliminary to abandoning the flesh altogether. See."

Jane pointed to one of the shrines, where flickering white forms sprang between a series of wide platforms. At first, Amy thought that they were some kind of large bird, but as they drew closer, she saw that they were people, floating like feathers in the breeze.

"Very wuxia," she noted.

"In the presence of the Ascended, we are able to tap into their energy and perform feats beyond the merely human. This exercises our own energies, preparing us to loose the bonds of mortality and release our essence into the cosmos. But here; here is one who can explain much better than I."

Jane turned and looked towards the hall. Following her gaze, Daniel and Amy saw a faint silvery light flowing across the ground towards them. As it approached, the light coalesced and grew brighter, forming itself into the glowing silver figure of a stately woman in a simple dress, with a tall feather rising from the crown of her head.

"Ma'at," Amy breathed.

The light flared once and then the woman was not formed of light, but to all appearances was of flesh and blood. Her garb had changed subtly; she still wore a straight, white dress, but one that would look more at home in Death on the Nile than a tomb painting, and the feather was tucked into the band of a jaunty little hat of the same period.

"Greetings, Amy," Ma'at said. "And greetings to you, Daniel. It has been too long."

"I'll have to take your word for it."

Ma'at smiled and held out her hands to Daniel. "I am sorry for that, Daniel, truly I am; you were a good friend."

After a moment, Daniel accepted her hands and smiled at her. "Glad to hear it. Can you... ?"

Ma'at shook her head gently. "We shall talk of this later," she assured him, "but not now."

"But I have to know... "

"Later."

Daniel sighed. "Alright."

Ma'at took back one hand and held it out to Amy. "Come inside now, both of you, and take your rest; you look exhausted. When you are refreshed, you may wander as you will within the valley, only do not enter the shrine behind the great hall. You are not yet ready for that teaching and would disturb those who practice there."

The lady turned and led the way to the hall. Daniel dropped back to speak to Jane, but Amy quickened her pace to catch up with Ma'at.

"My lady... "

"I bear no titles, Amy," Ma'at replied. "Not before friends."

"Ma'at," Amy corrected herself. "Why was I called here?"

"Called?"

"I have been dreaming of the valley since I first met you," Amy explained.

"I see." Ma'at beamed cheerfully. "No, Amy; you were not called. I think that you must simply have drawn the image of the valley from the memories of the Goa'uld whom I grew to love."

"Thoth?"

"No other, certainly. The Valley has a powerful place in his past," Ma'at explained. "He spent a very long time learning the location of the Valley of the Scales and lost many warriors finding and capturing it."

"You fought him?"

"It is not our way, but back then the desert was an even more dangerous place than it is now and the Valley lay hidden within the territory of another Goa'uld, Apedemak. Thoth knew that if he openly led a raid or small campaign to seize the Valley, he would attract unwanted attention. Ra would see that there was something here that he wanted and would take it from him. Instead, he waged a terrible and costly war against Apedemak on this world and many others."

"Gotta love that Goa'uld sense of proportion," Amy muttered.

"He was consumed by the desire for power," Ma'at explained, "and I pitied him when he came. He commanded me to teach him the secrets of our power, ordering his troops to massacre the people of the Valley if I resisted. You must understand that not only could we have annihilated his army with little more than a thought, but he could have razed this Valley to the ground and done us no harm by it. In spite of this, when he threatened us, I agreed to go with him; for his own sake. I knew that the others of my order would protect the Valley, no matter what, but there was no one to speak for the soul of this poor, tormented creature."

Amy shook her head in amazement. "It takes a big heart to feel sorry for someone like that. I doubt if I could do it."

"I see deeply," Ma'at assured him. "I saw the good in him; buried deep, but it was there. And perhaps I just relished the challenge."

Amy sighed.

"What is the matter?" Ma'at asked.

"I'd hoped... " She paused to gather her thoughts. "I had hoped that there was some greater purpose in my coming here. It would just be nice if there was a reason, rather than just a mishmash of incompatible memories shouting to make themselves heard."

Ma'at smiled. "It is for you alone to say if there is a purpose in your actions," she said.

"I knew you were going to say something like that."

*

Aia returned to her village on the back of Lieta Strong's camel. Aia held the animal's reins, as Strong's good arm supported her. The sun was well up, but the village was eerily quiet. Doors were locked tight, all but that of the Aia's own home, which had been broken in.

"Father!"

Lieta called for the girl to stop, but Aia slipped from her grasp, dropped to the ground and ran for her home.

"Wait!" Lieta slid down from the camel and ran after the girl. Once, she would have easily outpaced a child with a sedentary lifestyle, but her withered arm ruined her balance and made her slower, as well as weaker, than she had been before. The girl had disappeared inside the house before she even reached the door.

Lieta turned back to her comrades. "Secure the village!" she ordered. "Make sure that none of the wolf's heads remain. Arkan, check the encampment; I want to know what has become of the Sons of Ma'at. Although I can not claim to be optimistic," she muttered as she turned to enter the house.

Father Abas lay in his bed, tended by the village doctor. His skin was pale and sweaty and his eyes were closed, but his breathing was steady.

"What happened to him?" Aia asked.

Doctor Shol looked up at her in relief. "Aia, my dear; we feared the worst." He tried to keep Aia from passing him, but she reached her father's side and knelt by his bed.

"Tell me what happened," she insisted.

"He was attacked from behind," Shol replied. "A single, long cut across his spine."

Aia gave a soft cry.

"He's in severe shock, but not badly hurt," Shol assured her. "He will recover, given care."

"Who did this?" Aia demanded. "Who would do such a thing?"

"It was Osorkon," Lieta said in a voice filled with pride and approval.

Aia looked up at her in horror. "But why?"

"Can you not see? He acted to save your father's life."

"To save his life?"

"He is a cunning devil, my brother at arms," Lieta noted. "He knew that they would kill the priest and so he made it look as though he had done so already. If they had him to subdue, they would not stop to inspect the old man's body." She pushed past the baffled doctor and laid her good hand on Aia's shoulder. "When the remainder of our contingent arrives, I will have our healers attend your father," she promised. "He will have the best care that we can afford him."

"I... thank you," Aia said at last.

"Our order revere all holy men and women, regardless of their creed," Lieta explained. "Now, we must act quickly. My scouts will track these wolf's heads who have terrified your people. They will no doubt move quickly, but they will be slowed by their hostages."

"Hostages?" Shol asked.

"The tracks show that the Drs Cinquaid began to return to the house, but they were taken in the street. We may find their bodies in the desert, but I think it more likely that they will have been taken. Perhaps... " She stopped, a trace of fear mingling with her usual confidence. "It may be that Osorkon yet lives; he will do all he can to slow his captors. Also, they will be seeking to find their way to the hidden place without the willing aid of the Sons of Ma'at. We have a chance to catch them."

"And what will you do?" Aia asked.

Lieta gave a lopsided shrug. "Kill them all and free the hostages. What else would we do? Your pardon now, Aia; I must prepare my warriors. We will need to ride through the night."

*

"It's been a while, Daniel," Jane noted. She slipped her arm through his. "I guess you haven't got back into the mainstream, seeing as you found your way here."

"No," Daniel laughed. "These days I mostly work on other planets."

Jane chuckled. "I wonder if you weren't always a few steps ahead of the rest of us," she asked.

"My theories were a lot less radical than they're usually made out to be," Daniel assured her, "although I usually go along with the slanders now that I know the pyramids were built by aliens; it makes me look almost prescient."

"You always were a wicked soul."

"Takes one to know one," he replied. "But I've... mellowed lately."

Jane nodded in understanding. "As have I. Near-death will do that to a person."

"As will death."

Jane gave a disgusted snort. "Are you going to insist on topping all my stories?"

Daniel shrugged. "My wacky life," he apologised.

*

Daniel and Amy had been assigned shared quarters in a small cell. When Amy joined him there, he was unpacking his bags with the diligence of a man who would rather do anything than leave himself time to consider his situation.

"So, what do you think?" Amy asked.

Daniel shrugged. "I just... I don't know. It's confusing. I remember Ma'at, and not just in a general way. I know that we knew each other, I just can't think where or when that was. As for the valley itself... " He sighed. "I admit that the peace and the beauty of the place appeal to me, but something about it makes me uncomfortable. I think it's the isolation; the feeling that whatever happens here has nothing to do with the rest of the world. You could live your life here, master incredible feats and achieve transcendent understanding, but never make a difference. If that's the price of peace, to stand by and let the rest of the world go its own way to hell, maybe I am happier with a little struggle."

Amy nodded slowly. "That's intensely profound and beautiful, Daniel," she told him earnestly. "Although, sorry to say I really meant do you want the top or the bottom bunk."

Daniel burst out laughing. "Thank you, Amy," he said at last. "You have a real knack for breaking the angst."

"I have six older brothers and I watched them all go through every kind of emotional hell imaginable as they each hit their teens," she explained. "I only had two options; learn to snap them out of it or buy a lifetime supply of black paper and silver ink."

"You're a marvel," Daniel told her.

"As I keep telling you," she reminded him. "One of these days, you might start believing me when I tell you I'm the living image of erotic perfection."

Daniel tried to look stern, but another snort of laughter rather spoiled the effect. "Why aren't you with a man who deserves you, Amy?" he asked.

"No such beast," she assured him soberly. "But... I'm open to the idea that it might happen."

Daniel smiled. "You really mean that?"

"I rarely say things that I don't mean," Amy assured him primly.

"You once said you'd thought about killing yourself," Daniel reminded her, sobering suddenly.

Amy was taken aback. "I never... Oh, wait. Yes, I did," she admitted. "And I... I meant it at the time," she assured him. Her hands were trembling, quivering with rage. "She promised she wouldn't... Louise promised never to tell anyone about that."

"Louise didn't tell me anything," Daniel assured her.

"Then how did you... " The shaking became almost uncontrollable. "Oh, God."

Daniel reached out and caught hold of her hands. "Amy," he began.

"You... You were there," she realised. "I felt it. When I had the pistol in my hands, I felt... something. It was as though my finger couldn't move on the trigger. That was you watching over me." Daniel tried to pull away from her, but Amy gripped his fingers tightly. "And you remembered it, Daniel. You remembered it."

Daniel swallowed hard. "I... I did. I do. I remember being there, but... I didn't stop you. I don't know if I could have done, not like that, but I didn't have to. Looks like Ma'at was right about the memories coming back."

"That's good," Amy told him. "Isn't it?"

"Yes," he agreed, "but... it's frightening as well. I know that bad things happened while I was away. What if I was there and I didn't stop them? How could I live with myself if I found out that I let people die?"

Very gently, Amy pulled him into a hug. "It's okay," she promised him. "It's going to be okay."

"But how can you be sure?"

"I... I trust Ma'at. And I trust you. I know you're going to be alright."

*

Amy woke before dawn and slipped out to the bathhouse to wash. Sharing a house with six vain brothers had taught her the importance of rising early and using the bathing facilities before they filled up with testosterone. She had meant to be in and out quickly, but the warm, mineral-enriched water was so relaxing that she found herself drifting halfway off to sleep on the pool steps. Gentle ripples washed against her skin and seemed to penetrate deep into her being. Her mind wandered, rising like steam until it seemed that she was looking down on her own body from above.

A soft splash brought Amy back to herself and, for a moment, her perceptions and awareness seemed out of alignment with her body. Her skin felt too small, her senses dim, and she was gripped by a flash of claustrophobia, before the lapping of the water soothed her jarred spirit.

"Hello," Amy murmured.

Ma'at swam lazily across the warm pool and lay on the steps beside Amy. "Good morning, Amy," she said. "I see that you are enjoying our hospitality."

"Hmm."

"But you are not at peace."

Amy shook her head. "How can I be, when my friend is suffering so much? Can't you restore his memories, Lady Ma'at?"

Ma'at chuckled softly. "I have asked you not to call me 'lady'," she reminded Amy. "If you do so when you are asking favours of me, I might suspect you of unworthy fawning."

Amy blushed.

"Besides, you make me ashamed by showing such trust in me. You must understand, I can do nothing to help Daniel; my hands are tied in this."

"How is that possible?" Amy demanded. "You have such power at your command. Who could possibly bind one of the Ascended against... Ah," she realised.

Ma'at nodded and gave a gentle smile. "You understand. Oma Desala has ever made life difficult for those of us who do not hold with the dictates of the 'Others'. The greater and more conservative body of Ascended – for want of a better word – society have traditionally made allowances for differences of opinion, but Oma has ruffled their feathers. Assisting the ascension of those who had devoted their lives to the path was one thing, but assisting Daniel was quite another.

"Despite his potential, Daniel had not made ascension his life's pursuit. He was embedded in the world; it was only her affection for him that led Oma to bring Daniel across to the ascended state. His attempts to bend the rules set by the Others, for believe me, he bent them as far as he could... "

"I believe you," Amy assured her.

"... did nothing to soothe their tempers. The Ascension of the people of Abydos... Well, it is many thousands of years since that bunch of serene bastards" – Amy gave a snort of laughter – "have been so animated, not to say enraged."

"And they are making fewer allowances to you and yours now?" Amy supposed.

"Far fewer," Ma'at agreed. "My husband and I belong to a group who have taken the Earth under our wing. We watch over this world and we have for many centuries defended it from the jealousy and anger of the Others. Every step that you have taken on the path from barbarism to enlightenment has been taken against the wishes of those who have no wish to see the achievements of the Ancients replicated and it has been our place to protect you."

"Colonel O'Neill would refute that claim," Amy noted.

"And would you?"

Amy shook her head. "We have seen many dangers, many hands raised against the Earth, but I think that you protect us against threats that have always gone unseen, even as you thwarted them."

"You have a deep wisdom," Ma'at commended her.

"And a deeper stupidity," Amy replied, "but I guess I'm less of an empiricist than Colonel O'Neill. I... Since I got Daniel back, I've been a lot more able to take a f