Day One Hundred-Twenty

They arrive at the small hamlet of Halavasan in the early afternoon. Though its barely a few streets carved into the side of the mountain, it's swarming with a second group of partying viator, who buzz and whisper that the Quaralyn is among their ranks as they settle down for the night, too tired and exhausted to stay up and socialize.

Despite the minimal contact, the other viator give John the worst case of the itchy ants he's experienced so far, and everyone but him heaves a sigh of relief when Anbur declares they will stay for an extra day.

Feeling vaguely uneasy, he asks Anbur what it will be like at their destination.

"Many people from many places come together at this time, perhaps a thousand? Time for meeting old friends, making new friends, doing business."

This doesn't reassure John; he should have realized this sooner. If he's getting this feeling with only thirty or so devotees worshiping him, what is it going to be like with a thousand or more people?

Whatever progress he's made at struggling his way out of his funk vanishes into the thin air, and he slips away from the village. He desperately needs some alone time to fathom what all of this means.

~*~

John's sitting alone at the fire long after the camp is quiet and most everyone else has sacked out. He's staring up at the mesmerizing aurora; it looks close enough to reach out and touch.

He startles a little when Anbur sits down next to him and says simply, "John, I am sorry."

"For what?" John looks at him. His afternoon apart hasn't really solved anything. He's finally come to the frightening realization of how huge this is, the thing that he's become. He's the fucking Quaralyn.

"Too soon for you I think. Opportunity was too great to ignore. I hoped to build Dr. Weir's bridge, but you are paying the cost."

"I dunno, some days are better than others. For what it's worth, I don't think you were wrong—if this is going to help us in the long run, then I can deal with it." John shrugs. "Not much I can do about it, anyway."

"So this is what is meant, take one for the team?"

"Yep."

Anbur nods. "I wish you peace, John. You hold apart, even from those that you should not. Allow them to carry your burden with you."

Rodney was never his confidante, and he's got his own set of issues he's dealing with; John's not sure that he really has anyone he can unload all of this onto. Suddenly, it's all too much to bear; John takes a deep breath through his nose, and exhales hard as he tosses the stick away. "I just. I don't have the words. I can't say it, or explain." He absently touches his chest, giving away so much with that tiny gesture. He crosses his arms and tucks his traitorous hands away, pulling his knees up close to his chest breathing deeply and evenly, as he tries to regain even the smallest scraps of equilibrium.

Anbur gently lays his hand on John's back, rubbing in small aimless circles. "Yes, too much, I think."

They sit together quietly, the sounds of night washing over and around them, until the fire dies down to ashy embers. Anbur stands and stretches. "Go and sleep. We will talk again in the morning. Is easier, hmm?"

John clears his throat but makes no move to get up. "Sure. Good night, Anbur."

It's hours later when John goes to find his sleeping bag, which is missing from where he'd stashed it. He quietly searches around for it, and finds that Evan and Rodney have scrunched it between them. It's a sign that Anbur has probably had a powwow with them while he was out wandering and thinking.

John's just tired and upset enough that he gives in, doesn't snatch it up and stalk away. It's difficult, but he manages to shimmy into it without waking up either of them.

Or so he thought. When he rolls onto his side, Rodney's awake and intently watching him in the faint moonlight, his face alive with vivid flashes of colored light.

"I'm not even going to ask if you're okay, because you're patently not 'fine', haven't been for weeks, but all you'll do is lie about it." Rodney whispers.

"Go to sleep, Rodney." John rolls over towards Evan, who is either truly asleep or doing a great impression.

"Fine. I'll do that." Rodney makes a big production of flouncing around in his sleeping bag, and when he's done, he's almost spooned together behind John.

John freezes. "Rodney, the hell?"

"Body heat. Shut up and go to sleep."

To be fair, it is cold, but John waits until Rodney's softly snoring before he relaxes and snuggles a fraction closer into the comfort.

 

Day One Hundred Twenty-One

When John wakes up, Evan's huddled in close, too; the temperature has dropped again. It's not yet dawn, and John's not getting out without waking them up, so he resigns himself and goes back to sleep, pulling the sleeping bag a little farther over his head.

The second time he awakens, it's to the bright light of midmorning. Rodney's gone, but Evan is sitting on his rolled up sleeping bag, sipping hot tea. "Hey."

John rubs his eyes with one hand as he sits nestled in his sleeping bag, "Morning."

"Turned a little cold last night. Anbur says it'll warm up though."

"Mmm." John isn't quite coherent; he still feels worn out and achy from the two weeks of climbing and walking. He glances around to see that the rest of the camp is up and moving around restlessly. Rodney's coming back with two glasses of tea.

"Here." Rodney thrusts one of the glasses towards John.

"What's going on?" John doesn't mean the tea; with his free hand he makes a circular motion.

Just as Evan says, "Nothing", Rodney says, "This is about you not being fine."

John opens his mouth, but Rodney interrupts him before he can make a sound.

"Don't even. You've been freaked out ever since Ayse; do you think we're blind? Elizabeth's worried, and Anbur is about to call the whole thing off, turn around and go home."

"That's why we're hanging out here today," Evan adds. He looks John in the eye, but John can't tell if he's disappointed or not.

"He can't do that, what about everyone else?" Despite his fragile state of mind, he knows that Elizabeth had been correct in her assessment of how important it is that they complete this pilgrimage.

"Baariq and Tazim will take the kids on to wherever it is that we're going, but if you don't snap out of this funk, it's over, because we're not going to let you drag your ass back to the Daedalus alone." Rodney looks conflicted, as if he's anxious to return to Shaaziya but just as anxious to finish the viat. "He said we could try again next year."

They are so close, and John's not looking forward to repeating the experiences of the trip up here any time soon. "Jesus, it's not that bad. I'm okay! What is it with everyone suddenly? I didn't turn into a wilting flower when I was fucking resurrected!" John's shouting now, shoving the sleeping bag away, reaching for his boots and finding a place to put down the glass all at the same time.

"Whoa, whoa! Give me that, you're gonna break it." Evan grabs for the tea glass, and Rodney drags the other boot out from under the sleeping bag.

John extricates himself and shoves his feet into the boots without bothering to tie them. As he storms away, Evan calls out to him, "Hey!"

John turns and catches the tossed jacket with his face. Evan and Rodney are grinning, and John suddenly realizes that they've wound him up on purpose. "When I get back, I'm going to kick your ass."

"Sure, Sheppard. You can try." Evan rolls his eyes at Rodney.

John jams his arms into the sleeves, shrugging into the jacket and pulling it close around him as he dodges some of the viator, who are leaving. Anbur and Elizabeth are sitting outside a tent, in the sun but out of the wind.

Elizabeth gives him a bright smile. "Good morning, John. Sleep well?"

"Fine," he snaps. "What's this I hear that you're going to send us back to the Daedalus?"

Anbur looks up at him, "Is a possibility; I am concerned." He has a solemn look on his face, without a single trace of mirth.

"It's not a possibility as far as I'm concerned. So I'm a little upset, big deal. Look, you said this was important, not just for us, so I want you to know that I'll get over the bug up my ass."

"Okay."

"That's it? Okay?" The fight goes out of John.

"Yes. Tomorrow we will continue viat. Is perhaps only another three days to Makhuqat? It will be only more of same, hmm?"

"Good." John stalks away, angry that he's just been played. He's never been a terribly introspective person, but things have changed for him over and over again, forcing him to dig a little deeper each time. He figures that by now, he's in the Marianas Trench.

Rodney and Evan catch up and fall in beside him. "Still going to kick my ass?" Evan asks in an all too cheery tone.

"Probably. When you're asleep, so, you know—don't." John replies darkly.

"Come on, Sheppard. It's guaranteed to work every time. You mope until you get mad, and then you do something about it."

John eyes Rodney.

"What, just because I generally ignore people's feelings doesn't mean that I don't know they have them. It's like any good experiment: observation to develop a hypothesis, and then use the hypothesis to quantitatively predict the results of new observations."

"Is that right?"

"Yes. Don't say I'm wrong, because I'm not."

John swivels his glare to Evan, "What do you think?"

Evan answers carefully. "I'm not sure what he just said, but I guess you needed a kick in the pants."

"Maybe I was already mad, did you think about that?"

"Please, I've seen you angry, and you weren't, that was you, moping." Rodney doesn't tell him to get over it, but drops a bomb instead. "Anbur's got a ZedPM."

"What?" They've been on the planet for months, and the surprises just keep rolling in.

"Yeah, I didn't pick it up, maybe it's completely drained, but still, a ZedPM."

"Why does he have it?"

"Something to do with Makhuqat, part of the viat. I couldn't get him to tell me anything more. Patience, my ass."

John can imagine how that conversation went. "How did you figure out he's got one?"

"Saw it when I was watching them put up his tent last night, keeps it rolled up in it and stores it inside when the tent's up."

~*~

Anbur refuses to answer any questions about the ZPM. He gives them a small mysterious smile and shoos them away, leaving Rodney rather furious. John steers him away from the camp and towards the little town.

Rodney seethes, "What does he think I'm going to do? Contaminate his precious holy icon? Break it?"

John's pretty annoyed with Anbur too, for being the one that probably set him up this morning, but he realizes that it was his way of finding out how important this journey was to John.

He'd understood political importance of this trip on an intellectual level, had resigned himself to it early on, but John's surprised to find that it's become personally important, as well. Sure, no one wants to be sent home for being a crybaby (or lack of crying; John's still not clear what reaction Anbur's expecting from him), and sure, having a goal and attaining it is second nature to him, but the possibility, the hope of some personal reconciliation has taken hold of John. He trusts Anbur enough to accept that when it's all over, the viat will have some significant meaning.

"I dunno, Rodney. What would you do if you got your hands on it? Run your life signs detector all over it?"

Rodney huffs at that, "It's the principle. I'm a scientist and a ZedPM has been my Holy Grail for the last year."

John smiles. "Listen to yourself—you're on a religious trek, and you're complaining that someone has a relic they won't let you play with? Forget about it, it's probably dead." In the back of his mind though, he's recalling the database in N'vellesem, and the odd light in the corridors under the temple at Ayse.

Rodney's glaring at him when Cadman catches up to them. "Sir, we're going to take a hike, heard there were some ruins up there." She points up the side of the mountain.

Rodney's glare turns into his 'you're insane' look. "We've been on a forced march for two weeks, so when we get a day off you go hiking?"

John doesn't think that it had been anything like a forced march, but he agrees with Rodney, though he's slightly more polite. "Have fun?"

She shrugs. "Lorne? Up for a run up the mountainside?"

Evan smiles, the one that John would classify as his 'make nice with the crazy natives' smile. "Uh, no, I'll pass."

"Suit yourself, sir." Laura mutters something that sounds a lot like 'chair force' under her breath as she turns away.

John retaliates with 'ground pounder' and when he looks at Evan, they break out laughing. "Run up a mountainside?"

They reach the town, and spend a while poking around. The other group of viator are gone, and now the town seems almost deserted. There's an old woman baking khabez on a flat stone, and it looks like she's been at it a while, from the tall stack of flat bread next to her. She offers up the one that's just come off the stone to John as she entreats him, "Come sit for a moment."

She's wearing a purple hat that's similar in style to Anbur's, and John pauses, and the only feeling that he gets from her is a warm, honeyed glow, and that intrigues him. He thanks her in Peragro and joins her across from the baking stone. Evan and Rodney sit down beside him, giving her their thanks as the three of them tear into the crisp, steamy bread.

"You speak Peragro." she asks as she pats a fresh ball of dough onto the stone.

John swallows quickly. "I do, A little. It's not very good."

"A little is enough." She smiles, showing a wide lack of teeth. "I am known as Qahira."

"I'm John Sheppard, this is Rodney McKay and Evan Lorne." John points at them as he speaks. "Guys, this is Qahira."

They wave a little and greet her as they munch on the khabez.

"I was born in N'vellesem, but it has been many years since my last visit." Qahira pokes at the bread on the stone.

John's not exactly sure what to say so he nods and translates for Evan and Rodney. "Says she's from N'vellesem."

Evan asks, "Why did she come to Halavasan?" and John repeats his question.

"I came on viat, same as you, and fell in love. What other reason should there be? Perhaps you will do the same."

John smiles at this. "I don't think so, but Rodney's got a girl friend already. Him? Who knows?"

"Who knows, yes, this is right." Qahira deftly flips the khabez over, using her fingertips. "You have such pretty teeth, were they like this before you became the Quaralyn?"

John chuckles, she reminds him of his crazy Aunt Ella. "Yes, I look very much like I did before."

"That is good, I'm glad the Quaralyn is handsome. It would be shame if he were an ugly old man."

Rodney pokes John. "What are you two talking about?"

"My teeth."

"Figures. Hey, ask her about where we're going." Anbur's been close-mouthed about their destination, and it's been eating Rodney alive.

"He wants to know about our destination."

"Makhuqat? Except for the temple, it's nothing but a pile of rocks."

"So why there? Why does everyone go there?"

Qahira seems to think about that for a moment as she flips the flat bread off the stone and onto the waiting pile, and then pats down another ball of dough on the hot stone. "It is the tradition. Most people only go once, but the devout travel every anam."

"She says it's a temple, and a pile of rocks, and mostly folks only go once."

John watches as Rodney nods slowly, like he's adding data to the hypothesis in his head. He's about to ask 'what?' when Qahira asks him the sixty four thousand dollar question.

"What is it like to be the Quaralyn?" Her head is tipped to the side, keeping an eye on both John and the bread.

John has to consider his answer, but he still comes up blank. "It's difficult to say. I guess strange is the only word I have."

"It is said, 'For he who is Quaralyn will know the devotion of his followers.'"

"Huh, where does it say that?"

Qahira flips the bread over. "The Vaxqaralyn. I studied the ways of the Qaroptimat at Ludahsediat in N'vellesem. Is it true?"

"I guess that's what it is. I don't like it."

"Is difficult to be adored. As a young woman I had to learn to be adored by my husband. You must learn to be adored. Once you give in, it can be very rewarding." Qahira gave John a sly smile. "But perhaps not the same way."

That makes John laugh out loud. "Hopefully not the same."

Rodney and Evan are looking at John as if he's lost his mind. "What did she say?"

"Nothing, I'll tell you later."

Qahira tests the bread, pulls it off the stone and wraps it and several other large, flat loaves in a separate cloth and hands the package to John. "For your meal, and now, I must go and feed my adoring husband."

"Ze'omlat kavela, Qahira." John stands and helps her to her feet, and she takes advantage of the opportunity and pats his face. "So pretty," she says, ambling off.

"What was that all about?" Rodney asks.

"She was just flirting with me."

Rodney rolls his eyes. "Of course she was."

Evan gives him a playful punch on the arm. "If you're going to pull, you should shoot for someone a little younger."

"It's like a compulsion, Evan, and there's no accounting for taste." Rodney shakes his head.

John ignores them. "Let's take these back and have some lunch."

A large pot of thick, spicy stew is simmering on the fire, and Qahira's gift of fresh bread is well received. John grabs a bowl and tears off a piece, and moves a little ways off from the fire, and soon, Rodney and Evan sit next to him.

John thinks about calling them on their tactics, telling them to knock it off, that he doesn't need babysitting, but it is comforting. He decides to allow himself to accept it.

Rodney is eating fast and methodically, head down, and not talking, a sign that he's thinking hard and fast.

John lets him ruminate for a while as they eat, but eventually curiosity gets the best of him. "Whatcha thinking about, Rodney?"

"The ZedPM, what else?"

John gives him a shrug of the eyebrows.

"What did Qahira say exactly about Makhuqat?"

"That it was a pile of rocks, most people only go once but there are some who go every year. Why?"

"Just trying to figure out why someone would trek across the desert with it."

"What if it's just something they do?"

"What if it's not?"

"Well, we don't know that, do we? Doesn't look like Anbur's going to tell us, and we'll get there eventually."

"We're only about three days out," Evan adds.

"So, we'll find out soon enough."

"Yeah, three days."

"Try not to let it tear you up."

"Look who's talking, Mr. Mope-For-A-Week."

Amazingly, John's rescued from a conversation he doesn't want to have by an unlikely hero—Sabat. "Come, we race the mesla."

"Okay, this I have to see."

"Give me your bowl, I'll take care of 'em and be there in a minute." Evan reaches out and plucks the bowl from John's hand.

Sabat looks faintly disappointed, but chivvies John and Rodney up and over to the open field, looking over her shoulder to make sure that Evan is following along.

Most of the town and all of Anbur's viat are gathered around the lea, and there's a seething mass of the mesla at the other end. Baariq appears to be the race master and he waves John over. John gives Elizabeth the evil eye when she gives him a little push, before loping across the short field.

The mesla know something is up, and they aren't happy about it. They're pulling at their leads and squeaking in annoyance, but the designated mesla wranglers for the race are yanking on the leads and lining them up.

Baariq assigns John one at center post. John recognizes it as Donna, the one that's prone to biting. Dara gives him a leg up, and then hands him the lead, holding onto the halter. John tries to find a comfortable position, but it's just too bony. John's got a bad feeling about this, although he doesn't have too long to worry about it.

Apparently horse racing is the same in any galaxy; Baariq starts the race with a downward slash of a white cloth. Dara gives Donna a hard slap on her furry hindquarters, and she jounces off after the others.

John nearly falls off; there's no saddle; the odd gait is miserable to ride, and her sharp spine is as awful as he thought it would be. Donna's a little short, and John's got to pull his legs up to keep them from dragging the ground. He bounces along trying to give her a kick in the flanks, but his legs are too long, and he nearly causes himself to fall off. He's not the only one having some trouble; Gadon is still back at the starting line kicking and screaming at his mesla as it calmly grabs a tuft of the tough, grayish turf.

Fortunately, the course is short. John finishes the race by falling off just as Donna crosses the line. Everyone is laughing and smiling, but Elizabeth and Rodney are holding each other up, helpless with laughter, and Evan smiles evilly as he holds up a camera and grabs Donna's lead as she trots by. He pulls something out of his pocket and gives it to her, deftly avoiding the teeth.

John hauls himself up off the ground, and hollers to Baariq. 'We go again?'

Baariq is laughing so hard he can barely answer. "Yes, again," he huffs between bouts of hilarity.

"Good." John limps over to Evan and takes the camera. "You're up," he says in his best command voice. John leans over and whispers into to Evan's ear. "Then Rodney and Elizabeth."

This cracks Evan up, and he gleefully drags Donna to the starting line. He actually does pretty well, coming in second to Suha, the youngest and smallest. He leaps off Donna with a flourish.

John eyes him suspiciously. "You've done this before."

"Not with mesla, obviously."

"Obviously.

John hands the camera to Elizabeth, grabs Rodney and drags him to the starting line. "Oh, nononono, I can't do this, I've never been on a horse. Not that these are horses, but the same principle..."

"Sure you can, Rodney!" John and Evan haul Rodney into place, and he does his best to look terrified, but his smile is giving him away. Donna tries to take a piece out of Evan but he swings out of the way just in time.

Baariq starts the race, and John gives Donna a firm whack to get her started.

It's the funniest thing that he's seen in a long time. Rodney is yelling and screaming at the top of his lungs, holding on for dear life as Donna trots lazily across the field. She's easily dead last, and the only reason that she's moving forward at all is that Elizabeth is holding out an allmas as encouragement.

"Come on, McKay, give her a kick!"

Rodney flails around trying to urge Donna onwards, but she's not going to take any more, and in a move that would make donkeys in any galaxy proud, bucks Rodney off her back and runs towards the treat.

Rodney lies still on the ground and John rushes over to check on him. "Rodney, you okay, buddy?"

He opens one eye and gives John the ultimate death glare. "Why, yes, I'm fine," Rodney's sarcasm is in full bloom. "I was just humiliated by a smelly pack animal, and I'm lying on the ground wondering if I've broken anything, if I'll ever be able to walk again, or if I'm going to have to live out the rest of my days as a cripple in Halavasan. Why wouldn't I be fine?" Evan and Elizabeth join them during Rodney's tirade.

"Besides the humiliation."

"I know why they don't ride the mesla."

John snickers and holds out a hand to Rodney, and pulls him to his feet. "Ya think?"

"Yes, Sheppard, really. "

~*~

That evening another caravan of viator arrives in Halavasan, and there's more of the usual evening festivities. John's burden isn't so heavy, and he lets himself enjoy the party this time, partly to assuage Anbur's concern, though mostly because he doesn't get the itchy ants feeling from these people, it's more like Qahira's warm glow. He doesn't know what the difference is, or why the students from the Ludahsediat don't even register. He concedes that maybe that they knew him before, whereas the others only see him as Quaralyn.

 

Day One Hundred Twenty-Two - One Hundred Twenty-Three

The extra day's rest leaves John energized and recharged, despite the lingering hangover from too much ekal. He'd decided to retreat to his fall back position of laconic disregard of any meaning that might be construed from the events of the previous night.

Rodney and Evan are willing to let his recent behavior slide; they spent the next three days of walking with good-humored conversation and arguing. Evan's not a geek, and he shakes his head in disbelief over the range of topics that John and Rodney choose to discuss.

The steep trail heads almost straight down, and by the end of the second day down from Halavasan, John's toes are bruised from the force of the downhill walk. When he peels out of his boots by the fireside to check, it looks like he might lose a toenail.

 

Day One Hundred Twenty-Four

Anbur catches John after the last rest stop as they begin the final leg of the journey and guides John to the front of the caravan. Tazim and Zuhair fall back to give them some privacy. "You enjoyed yourself very greatly the last night in Halavasan, I think."

It's been a couple of days, and John has gained some perspective. "Yes, yes, I did."

"What was the cause of this difference?"

John doesn't answer immediately, and Anbur is willing to wait as they pick their way down the side of the mountain. The trail from Halavasan to Makhuqat is downhill, and the irony of that isn't lost on John. "Did I ever tell you about what happened in Ayse? When we stopped there?"

"Some, perhaps, but not all, I think."

John nods as he pauses to gather his thoughts. "At lunch in Zuhair's temple, and maybe a little before, I got this feeling, like itchy ants," He hasn't seen any ants here, so he starts again. "Okay, it was a feeling that I was getting from the Qaroptimat, a very uncomfortable feeling. It was worst when they would worship me, but it was there the whole time. My skin would crawl with the vibration in the air."

Frowning, Anbur prods him. "And so?"

"Well, it disappeared when we left, but it came back when we'd stop in a village."

Anbur just nods.

"Then, in Halavasan, I noticed that I would get a different feeling from some people, it was warm and glowy—a very nice feeling. Qahira was the one where I noticed it most."

"Hmm, I see." Anbur gives John an appraising look. "Who does not give you these 'feelings?'"

"The nusquam, of course. You and the rest of the viator from the school."

This time it's Anbur who's silent. He doesn't speak again until the trail is nearly flat again and there's a sharp turn ahead. Anbur turns around, and Rodney's right there. The excitement is rolling off of him in waves. "Patience, Dr. McKay.

Rodney flaps his hands in the air. "Whatever."

Anbur smiles and then nods as he begins to recite a passage from the Avaxqaral, It's one that every one knows, it's the first one taught to children as their first prayer.

Everyone that knows the passage joins in, and John recites it under his breath.

Once they've made the turn in the trail, a broad, flat plateau stretches out ahead, filled with people and tents and mesla. A fine layer of dust hangs in the air with so many feet on the ground, and it's noisy; a babbling cacophony of squeaking meslas and people talking and shouting, all the languages melding together into a common tongue.

At the center of this is a building, tall and white and built of stone, obviously not only ancient, but Ancient—it's not exactly the central spire of Atlantis, but close, very close.

 

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