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A gecko clung to the vertical wall of a dry canyon, as still and silent as the desert air.

In centuries to follow, the lizard's descendants would find their sun-bathing loudly disturbed. The canyon would echo to the pounding of rocks as thousands of quarry-men toiled in the heat. Generations of workers would expel their sweat under a relentless sun to prise pink granite from the desert, then drag it east to build the pharaohs' monuments in towering, chiselled stone.

For now though, and for many years to come, the canyons beyond the walls and farms of Memphis were quiet, and largely ignored by the people of the Nile. The professional herdsmen had no cause to bring their masters' goats and long-horned cattle this far from the valley's pastures. There were no rich tombs for thieves to rob, nor mummified kings to place deep in the stone. And the great palaces, statues and temples by which future royal dynasties would be known were yet to make their demands on the land's reserves of limestone, sandstone, granite and basalt.

The gecko was as still as the Sahara; and like the Sahara, its stillness betrayed no sign of the life beneath the surface. To an on-looker the lizard might be as fossilized as the desert's burrowing spiders, snakes, and scorpions were alert and alive. Its splayed feet seemed part of the ancient rock to which they cleaved, defying the pull of the barren world. Nothing disturbed its posture as the sun moved across a fierce blue sky - not the shimmering heat, nor the merest scattering of sand by a scurrying insect, nor the unexpected clatter of a foreign creature's hooves on stone. The gecko did not dart for cover as the hooves approached, thudding hard on the sand; nor even flinch when the galloping mount with its two clinging riders turned the last corner of the canyon, fracturing the arid peace and churning dust in its wake.

The large animal wheeled to the right as the canyon's impenetrable western wall loomed high above the figures on its back, blocking their escape.

"Son of a bitch!"

A man slid down from the rear of the snorting creature while it still moved, the curse faltering on his dry lips as he stared in surprise at the towering granite. His dirty grey robe flapped behind him as his sandals hit the ground. Blue eyes darted left and right behind spectacles coated with sand. "I could've sworn-"

"Get back up, Daniel!" The other rider circled their mount back towards him quickly. She was dressed in a similar robe, but had lost the linen wrap designed to protect her head from the sun and desert wind. She blinked in the glare and pushed blonde, sweat-soaked hair from her forehead before extending her arm.

Before her companion could comply the beast beneath the woman shuddered, as though it were about to stumble.

"Whoa!" She jumped down from its bare back fast, still clutching the end of a makeshift bridle of papyrus rope in her fist. "Crap."

"It's exhausted, Sam," said Daniel, eyeing the quivering beast. "It can't take us much further."

Sam peered up at the rock face, searching for a route to climb out of their trap. She shielded her eyes from the sun with her palm. There were some ledges and promising handholds not far from the ground, but they petered out into a sheer cliff that rose at least two hundred feet above their heads. She winced. "We don't have a chance up there. We have to turn back."

"I don't think there's time. I'm sorry, Sam, I thought this one would broaden out again into the desert."

She waved aside his apology. "They all look the same to me too." She spun around, still scanning the formidable walls. "Anyway, they would have caught us eventually if we kept going. There's nowhere to hide out there, and their symbiotes give them more stamina."

They both looked back the way they had come. Their mount snorted noisily again, the sweat on its back rising like a hot mist and evaporating quickly in the dry air.

Daniel spoke rapidly. "Last time I looked back they were less than half a mile behind us. They can't be far from the entrance to the canyon by now."

"If we split up, one of us might still have a chance."

He looked at her, gauging her meaning. "Surrender isn't an option, Sam. They'll just execute us like they-"

"I know that," she said quickly. She pointed to a vertical crevice in the granite wall, about forty feet from the desert floor. It was narrow but tall enough to conceal a man within its shadow. "Can you climb up there?"

He glanced up, then back to her. "What about you?"

"As far as those Jaffa know, they're chasing one mount. They won't be expecting to find more than one rider. I can double back and draw them off before they reach you."

Daniel's focus became an anxious glare as he watched her leap and haul herself once more onto the animal's glistening back. "What about you?" he repeated, pointedly.

Sam gathered up the frayed rein, urging the shaking creature to turn with a jab of her heel. She met his gaze. "You're the one who'll make this rebellion work if it's going to, Daniel. The General knew it - that's why he made sure you got out."

"Sam-"

"You can motivate these people! You speak their language fluently, which is more than I can do despite your best efforts. You know their history and you understand them."

"You're the soldier."

"Who's used up all her ammunition. Get up there quick, Daniel, while there's still time." She kicked the animal forward. "And make sure you brush your footprints away."

By the time Daniel reached the crevice his fingers ached from gripping the rock and he was breathing hard. He slipped between the granite walls, grateful for the shade, and peered out from his hiding place. From this height he could see over the ridge that had blocked their view of the canyon's limits and doomed their flight into the dunes. He had an unhindered view of the canyon's entrance, and the loose sand rising from the approaching Jaffa warriors as they cut off Sam's escape. Their alien armour flashed in the bright sunlight as they emerged from the dust. Their commander's bird-like Horus helmet shone like a fire-brand, and their deadly staff-weapons gleamed.

Too far away to hear their voices, Daniel listened to his own harsh breaths and the blood pulsing past his ears as he watched the inevitable capture unfold. A contingent broke away and flanked Sam as she made a break for the open desert. More ran forward and surrounded her by a rocky outcrop, forcing her to halt. She struggled but they pulled her from her exhausted mount and dragged her to the main group. At a gesture from their commander they searched her for weapons, then threw her down into the sand at his feet.

They retrieved the horse with far greater care.

Daniel grimaced as he observed the silent, distant spectacle. He saw Sam push herself up onto her knees, only to earn a swift strike which knocked her down again. It was a cruel, gratuitous blow, for the commander's gauntleted hand gripped a fistful of blonde hair and pulled her back up again. Then he stepped back a pace and levelled his staff-weapon at her chest.

It would be another summary execution, Daniel realised, just like Jack. Ra's First Prime had not even bothered to bring the General before his lord.

Jack...

"Jack, it's a horse!"

"I know it's a horse, Daniel. Get on the damn thing and ride!"

"You don't understand, Jack. There aren't supposed to be any horses in the Protodynastic period. They're yet to be imported from Asia."

"There aren't supposed to be any lots of things in the Proto, Daniel. Like twenty-first century archaeologists."

"Where did you find it?"

"His Majesty's menagerie. I didn't like the look of the cheetahs and the zebra wouldn't co-operate. Now move!"

Jack had shoved him forward urgently. Sam had reached down from the horse and grabbed Daniel's arm, hauling him up behind her. No stirrups - too early for those too, Daniel's mind quipped as his knees sought purchase on the animal's flanks. No saddle either... shit, was it even broken in? He gripped Sam's waist as Jack slapped the horse's rump hard.

Minutes later, from a distance, Daniel saw Jack's body tumble from the steps of the palace, a charred, smoking hole where his ribcage had been. Teal'c was kneeling nearby, disarmed and roped to the other prisoners, waiting his turn.

Daniel didn't see Teal'c fall. The fleeing horse took them beyond the city's walls and mercifully blocked his view.

Should he watch Sam die now? Should he keep his eyes open and bear witness to her execution? Which was the better mark of respect - to turn away or to watch her fall?

Daniel waited for the glow of the staff-weapon to signal the impending blast. His eyes froze and his lungs stilled. Time slowed to an arid crawl.

Time: everything was time. Too much time. Too little time. Five thousand years of history fraying. What were they doing to their future? What had they already done? Would their rebellion unravel and fail for rising too soon? Would the weave of human civilization disintegrate while still on the loom?

Sam didn't want to change the future. Jack and Teal'c didn't want to wait.

Jack was dead. Teal'c must be too.

Sam...

Daniel watched the commander pull his staff-weapon away and signal to his men. Two of them lifted Sam from the sand... alive; she was still alive. They roped her arms behind her back and marched her away.

A swelling rose in Daniel's throat. It grew painful and he closed his eyes. So they had decided to torture one for information first after all.

Dusk was approaching when Daniel judged it safe to emerge from his hiding place. Sam's sacrificial tactic had proved correct: the Horus-guard sent just six men to check the head of the canyon. They made a cursory inspection of the ground, noted the high cliffs and lack of any means of escape, and soon doubled back. They expected to find no one there, so that was what they found.

They were long gone when Daniel climbed down carefully on aching limbs, wrapped his robe tight around his shoulders, and began his long walk out into the desert alone. A single, choked sound escaped his throat, and a gecko flinched on a rock as he passed by.

He saw no other signs of life. Tears dried quickly in the warm air, leaving salty marks behind.

Jack. Teal'c. Sam.

He knew in his heart that he would never see them again.

Sam asked for water. The resulting backhander from her nearest captor persuaded her not to ask again.

The Jaffa commandeered a boat to take them up the Nile. Sam sank to her knees on the rough planks. They were taking her back to Memphis, she realised: Ra's preferred palace on Egypt's fertile soil, where the living god could be seen and worshipped by the greatest number of human souls.

This was where General O'Neill had tried to raise the human revolt against the Goa'uld. Their first attempt to seize Ra's space-ship was unsuccessful, but not a total failure. It gained the young rebellion support among the tent-dwelling slaves who lived at the sandy edge of the Nile valley. They saw that their great Pharaoh's warriors could fall; and if his warriors could fall, perhaps he might fall. Greater efforts might yet liberate them from Ra's domination of their meagre lives.

It also brought the rebels to the attention of those who remained loyal to Ra. Information bought extra rations of bread and beer. Valuable information might buy even greater privilege: a house in the growing city, a position in the Pharaoh's court. In a land determined by essential needs and ruled by fear, there were enough willing spies. When O'Neill tried to assemble the rebels in Memphis, Ra's Horus-guards knew where to strike. The north African dawn broke to Jaffa weapons' fire, sudden bloodshed, and human cries of bitter anguish and pain.

Many rebels fled the skirmishes to fight another day, but not all got away. Ra's First Prime ordered them rounded up and brought to the open civic space before the palace of his god, where the people of the city could witness the swift justice decreed by his lord.

Sam didn't want to believe it when Daniel told her what he saw. She had ridden their frightened mount hard, her eyes scanning the mud-brick walls and twisting alleys as they galloped away. A Jaffa emerged from a doorway and aimed his staff-weapon at them as they fled past. Sam's zat caught him squarely in the throat, incapacitating him in a crackling flash of blue. She fired the energy weapon again, killing him even before he hit the ground.

Many more of Ra's armoured warriors met the same fate as they rounded corners and ducked under lintels to escape, before her weapon was finally depleted of power. It was enough to get them out of the city, but not enough to get clean away. They were pursued. The Goa'uld had so many Jaffa: dutiful, dependent, expendable - no matter how many they defeated, more always came. No wonder so many worlds laboured under Goa'uld rule for so long. No wonder so many who resisted died...

"He's gone, Sam. He's gone."

"What about Teal'c?"

"They got him."

"Is he alive?"

"I didn't see..."

Thirsty. She was so thirsty. The river rippled and shimmered. The boatmen worked naked in the reddening sun as the swelling disc settled towards the horizon, their skin shiny with sweat so that their bodies gleamed like molten bronze.

They passed by smaller boats as they moved upstream. Reed-gatherers worked in the shallows, risking the Nile's infamous crocodiles with every plunge of a hand. Naked fishermen stood in papyrus canoes with their harpoons poised, waiting for the larger vessel to pass by while the waters were disturbed.

The river-workers lowered their voices whenever the Jaffa boat drew near. Many noticed the human prisoner kneeling between the armoured soldiers, and most dropped their brows quickly to avoid the aliens' imperious stares. A few let their gazes linger on Sam, some in mere curiosity, others with sympathy etched on their faces.

Ra was not known for mercy.

Sam saw a fisherman holding a freshly caught catfish. She watched him use a cautious finger and thumb to prise away its deadly spine. She caught the man's eye as they floated past, and saw him spit in the water after them when the soldiers' backs were turned.

Resentment still simmered near the surface among the ordinary people, then. The rebellion wasn't doomed.

Darkness was falling when the boat turned into a narrow channel dug at an angle to the Nile's course. The boatmen manoeuvred the vessel quietly past whispering reeds and papyrus, towards a dark edifice that loomed against the twilight sky. As the moon rose the structure appeared to widen and separate into many more, and Sam saw that they were following a waterway into the heart of the city. No people worked its banks - clearly this was forbidden territory, reserved for the movement of Ra's armies, and perhaps the Goa'uld himself. There were hardly any sounds. A dog barked in the distance, and something which might have been animal or human whimpered close by, but no voices reached them from the buildings or streets beyond.

A curfew, Sam realised. After the raids the city was under lockdown.

Eventually the narrowing channel brought them to a small jetty flanked by stone walls. The water appeared black now as night closed in, with flickering orange torchlight reflecting off its inky surface. Two Jaffa gripped Sam by her bound arms and pulled her harshly from the boat. She stumbled as she stepped onto the jetty and they dragged her until she found her footing again.

The Horus-guard directed the two Jaffa to take Sam up a flight of limestone steps and into an elegant building. They marched her between pillars adorned with bright hieroglyphs and across smooth floors bathed in moonlight. They emerged into the balmy night again, crossed a wooden footbridge over still water, and passed through yet another series of buildings, each one more ornate than the last. Guards were posted at every door and Sam realised they were taking her deep into the palace compound. Finally she found herself in a wide, well-lit courtyard surrounded by high walls bearing lush, climbing vegetation. A fountain bubbled near one corner and a statue of Ra rose high in another. About a dozen Horus-guards were assembled along the far wall, watching over a line of kneeling prisoners.

Sam recognised one of the captives immediately.

Teal'c.

She took a deep breath.

He's still alive.

Teal'c did not look up when the Jaffa brought Sam to the end of the row of prisoners and pushed her down to join them. His eyes remained lowered, hidden behind the fringe of beaded braids that covered his head these days.

SG-1 had not been stranded in Ancient Egypt long when they realised that the mark of Apophis on Teal'c's forehead was too much of a danger to ignore. Merely covering it with linen was risky, for if revealed it could not be passed off as a foreign tattoo of exotic design yet irrelevant meaning. Apophis was Ra's mortal enemy, and the gold sigil of his First Prime was instantly recognisable.

Erasing it proved a harsh ordeal, almost as much for Sam as for Teal'c, since Jack decided she must be the one to do it. She didn't want to, and protested their lack of surgical skills and equipment. She imagined Janet's horror at the possible complications, and baulked at the pain such a serious procedure would cause him.

Only Teal'c could persuade her. He described calmly how he had endured the agony of the molten metal tattoo's creation, and so could equally endure the pain of its removal.

They placed a stick wrapped in cowhide between his teeth and gave him their morphine. Jack and Daniel gripped his fists and Sam cut the gold from his flesh, grimacing with him at every incision. Her fingers shone white with the pressure on the hot blade, then blistered, growing sticky with his blood as the tortuous minutes went by too slowly.

Fortunately she did not have to cut all the way to the bone. With enough of the gold removed his skin could heal over the pure metal, hiding its shape and lustre beneath illegible scarring. When Sam was done, Teal'c took the blade from her raw fingertips and with a shaking hand deliberately scored his own brow once more, making an ugly gash which reached down as far as his cheekbone. The result was a scar which bore no resemblance to the remains of a Jaffa tattoo, and looked like the mark of a battle injury. He grew his hair long enough to braid over his ears and forehead, further disguising the typical appearance of a Jaffa warrior.

Afterwards Teal'c passed for a dark-skinned African. If asked he said he was from the lands beyond Nubia, come to Egypt to trade slaves and ivory. Few Egyptians travelled so far south to know differently.

His head was lowered now, his impassive face hardly visible. Teal'c neither looked up nor tried to speak to Sam when she joined the line of kneeling captives. She soon learned why. When she glanced sideways to catch his eye she caught a painful rap to the back of her head with the butt of a staff-weapon.

The prisoners were linked together by a thick length of rope twisted from palm-fibre. One of the guards lifted a loop and tightened it securely round her neck, then stepped back and took up his post again. Sam's brow furrowed. What were they doing? At the moment of her capture she had expected to be killed immediately. Then when the commander ordered her bound and marched out of the desert, she feared they were keeping her alive for a brutal interrogation. Now neither fate seemed imminent.

Prisoners and guards alike waited in silence. After several minutes another troop of guards entered, bringing more captured rebels. Sam risked a glance without raising her head and saw that they were two young men of identical slender appearance - twin brothers. They too were roped to the line and made to kneel in silence.

Sam estimated that over an hour passed before further activity broke the monotony of their confinement. The Jaffa brought in a struggling figure. Sam recognised her as one of the rebel fire-brands - a fierce woman with long black hair and muscular limbs, not as tall as Sam but probably heavier. She was bleeding from a cut lip and wore fresh bruises on her angry features. The guards had to force her to her knees and she spat at one of them in defiance. The vicious blow that prompted knocked her hard to the solid floor, and she was barely able to rise up again. The guard's violence had the desired effect. She stopped struggling.

A Horus-guard spoke abruptly, giving orders in Goa'uld. One of the Jaffa left and returned with slaves carrying a cup and jars of water. The adolescent boy and girl were almost naked, wearing little more than strings of beads around their hips. Sam was struck by how fragile they looked as they moved between the bulky armoured guards to give the prisoners water.

She drank gratefully when they reached her and one held the cup to her lips. She realised she was hungry too - she had eaten nothing since before dawn.

"Thank you," she whispered, in the Semitic language of Ancient Egypt which Daniel had taught her. In truth she understood it far better than she spoke it, and she recognised the Horus-guard's brusque words to the slaves when he ordered them in their own tongue to hurry their task and leave.

A sudden shifting of boots and clinking of armour alerted her to the guards' change in posture. The soldiers stood to attention as another group entered the courtyard. Sam peered up through her hair and saw a tall, imperious man with a retinue of slaves and bodyguards. He wore a long robe that fastened under his armpits, made of the fine white linen favoured by Egypt's elite. A multi-hued collar of tightly-sewn beads adorned his shoulders, and his arms were covered in bracelets. Sam recognised the image on his pendant as that of the goddess Maat, and remembered that Daniel had identified its bearer as the tjaty - the Pharaoh's Vizier. While Ra's First Prime commanded his armies, this man was his chief administrator...

"So is this Vizier guy a Goa'uld, Daniel?"

"He must be, Jack. Ra wouldn't trust a human slave with his empire."

"Would he trust another Goa'uld?"

"Up to a point."

"He could be a lo'tar."

"No. A lo'tar must remain with his master so that he can serve as a host if necessary. We haven't seen the Vizier yet."

"So he's another snake we have to take out."

"If we can. He's a key player."

The Vizier's eyes glowed bright white. He gestured towards the kneeling captives and spoke with the inhuman resonance of a symbiote. The guards seized one of the prisoners and pulled him to his feet for the Vizier's inspection.

Goa'uld, Sam agreed with Daniel's assessment. Definitely Goa'uld.

The Vizier moved along the line followed by his retinue. One by one the prisoners were hauled up and presented to him. At his command the guards made them turn or pushed aside their clothes for his scrutiny. The Vizier did not touch them himself, but sometimes spoke to his personal slaves, who obliged him by prodding the captives' abdomens and biceps.

For the most part the Vizier seemed to approve of what he saw and when he nodded the guards made the captives kneel again. When he did not he gave a cursory wave of his hand instead, and the guards unfastened the prisoner from the line and removed him from the courtyard. Sam heard three sickening blows and the thud of a dead weight hitting the ground from beyond its walls. The guards returned moments later with spatters of blood on their armour.

As the Vizier drew closer to her position, Sam tried to work out what criteria would keep her from that sudden violent fate. It was more than sound health, she realised. The man they had just disposed of was fit enough, with no apparent weaknesses. When some more unfortunates were rejected and taken out, Sam noticed the common factor: they were simply ordinary. Strong and healthy, yes, but not remarkable.

The guards had brought only select prisoners from amongst the captured rebels into the palace in the first place. All were relatively young and apparently healthy, but those the Vizier chose to keep were also distinctive somehow. One such man was unusually tall for an Egyptian, with high cheekbones and shiny hair that fell in waves almost to his waist. Another was heavily tattooed in a cursive script that Sam didn't recognise - perhaps a foreigner.

Teal'c was distinctive, of course. He stood up when it was his turn and took the opportunity to look at Sam briefly. His expression would be unreadable to most, but Sam could see in his eyes that he was relieved to see her alive, and concerned for her.

The Vizier took no time at all to decide to keep Teal'c. That much was obvious. But for once the Goa'uld chose to speak to the prisoner directly.

"Where are you from?"

Teal'c stared past him impassively and answered in the Ancient Egyptian tongue. "I am a trader from beyond Ta Sety."

The Goa'uld frowned in puzzlement and looked to one of his well-dressed slaves.

"Ta Sety," the slave repeated. "The Land of the Bow. The Nubians are famed archers."

The Vizier turned back to Teal'c and his frown deepened. "You fight with the rebels. Are they hiring Nubian mercenaries?"

Teal'c's bland expression didn't falter. "I am not a Nubian. I am a trader from the lands far to the south."

The Vizier looked him up and down, noting his impressive height and the bulk of his muscles. He signalled with a crook of his finger and the slave stepped forward. The young man gripped Teal'c's collar to tug open his robe, revealing his chest and broad shoulders.

Sam inhaled. She hoped the linen did not fall further to expose Teal'c's symbiote pouch. That would reveal him to be something quite different.

"You are a warrior," said the Vizier.

Teal'c looked the Goa'uld in the eye. "All beyond Ta Sety are warriors. It is our birthright."

The Vizier scowled, and for a moment Sam thought he was going to react angrily. Apparently he thought better of it and he eventually nodded, satisfied. The guards pushed down firmly on Teal'c's shoulders and he knelt on the floor again.

The two prisoners between Teal'c and Sam were both rejected. Perhaps they simply could not compete with Teal'c's exotic stature in the Vizier's eyes, but for whatever reason they were despatched without ceremony. Neither pleaded for mercy. Sam wondered if that was because their rebellious pride sustained them in the face of execution, or because they feared the fate that awaited the survivors more than the swift death rejection promised.

Then it was her turn. Sam stood up by her own effort as soon as she felt the guards' gauntlets on her arms, trying to avoid further bruises.

The Vizier drew in a breath. "Ah..."

Sam tried to follow Teal'c's example and looked straight past him, but she found her eyes drawn to the Goa'uld's after several moments of silent waiting. He was studying her closely, and she wondered if he detected that she had once been blended with a symbiote. It occurred to her that the Goa'uld might have developed that ability later. Eventually he turned to his slave and asked something which Sam didn't understand.

The slave answered, and this time Sam caught most of the meaning:

"North. From across the ocean. She is a barbarian."

"I see."

If he did detect that she had once been a host he was not interested. It also struck Sam that this Goa'uld was unusual in that he asked questions of his slaves. The Goa'uld she had encountered in the past eight years did not like to reveal their ignorance. However this one was not masquerading as a god, which made a difference. Certainly Ra would find such an ally among his own species very useful, and no doubt granted him great power and privileges in return for his assistance.

The Vizier extended his jewelled arm and touched Sam's hair with his fingertips...

After SG-1 had dealt with Teal'c's tattoo they tried to do something about Sam's distinctive blonde hair. It was a less crucial matter, for unlike Teal'c's mark of Apophis her foreign colouring betrayed no dangerous allegiance. Unfortunately it did attract attention...

"Your hair is like wild sunshine, Carter."

"Like what, Sir?"

"Your eyes are like blue river stones..."

"Sir!"

"Look Carter, it's the same hassle we had with that Turghan guy. You're exotic."

"For that matter, Jack, so are we."

"I'm grey, Daniel, and your hair's just... dirty."

"Thanks, Jack."

"Teal'c is exotic too, Sir."

"Teal'c passes for African now. I don't know much about Daniel's Pro... Proto..."

"Protodynastic."

"Protie thing, Carter, but I bet to most of these Egyptians you look like something that fell from the sky."

"She did fall from the sky, Jack. We all did."

"Look, all I'm saying is, we could do without the attention."

"What you're saying is that I should dye it, aren't you, Sir?"

"If possible."

After several messy experiments O'Neill agreed that it was impossible. They tried various dark pigments, including crushed charcoal liberated at substantial risk from the royal scribes' stock in Memphis. Nothing took permanently, and when sweat dampened Sam's hair the pigment washed away in dark rivulets which were equally eye-catching.

Teal'c seemed quietly pleased with their failure.

"We shall both remain exotic, Colonel Carter."

Now the Vizier's fingers played with the blonde strands and Sam suppressed a shudder. She was the first prisoner he had touched. She intrigued him, and that disturbed her greatly.

"Barbarian," he said slowly, and his thin lips curved into an ugly smile. "We shall soon see how savage you are."

Sam woke when sunlight crept through the open window in the door of her cell and fell across her eyes. She blinked a few times and wiped her hand across her forehead. She caught sight of the ligature marks on her wrist and sat up slowly on the threadbare sacking which passed for a bed in her tiny, stone room. Her limbs were stiff and her neck was sore.

She rubbed her arms tenderly. The flesh on her wrists and above her elbows was chaffed from the previous day's long hours of restraint. She touched the back of her head with her fingertips, exploring her injuries carefully, and was relieved to find that the swelling from the blows she had received was subsiding.

"Still in one piece," she said softly to herself.

She stood up and stretched, easing her joints into movement. She stepped up to the cell's heavy wooden door. It bore no handle and no lock. The door hinged outward and Sam knew a solid wooden bar across the outside kept her prisoner - no mechanism to pick - simple and very effective.

After the Vizier had made his selections the previous night the guards marched the chosen prisoners down into the secure compound. Sam knew they were somewhere in the heart of the fortified section of Ra's palace now, behind high walls and guard-rooms designed to keep people secured inside as much as to keep others out. The window in her cell door was just wide enough for her to put her head out and peer around. In daylight she could see a small, open-air quadrangle surrounded on three sides by cells identical to her own. The ground was flat, featureless sand. On the fourth side was a wall bisected by a pair of stone pillars and a heavy lintel, barred with a grill of sturdy timber. She couldn't see beyond it.

"Colonel Carter?"

That was Teal'c's voice. She looked to her right and saw his face peering out of a similar window two cells down.

"Teal'c! Are you okay?"

"I am unharmed."

She was so relieved to speak to him again that she almost smiled.

"You?" he asked.

"A few scrapes and bruises. Nothing serious."

Teal'c nodded. His features took on a sombre expression. "General O'Neill is dead."

Sam swallowed. "I know." She looked around, checking to see if any guards were about who might overhear them. Teal'c glanced at the cell between them and shook his head. Sam nodded in agreement. They would not discuss Daniel until they were sure no information about him could be passed on to jeopardise his escape.

Sam realised that her silent agreement alone would suggest to Teal'c that Daniel had indeed got away.

"Do you have any idea why we're here?" she asked.

"I do not."

Sam frowned. "I think we might be some sort of entertainment."

"Why?"

"Something the Vizier said when he checked me over."

Teal'c raised an eyebrow. He cast his eyes across the bare compound. "This does not look like a spectatorial arena. There are no vantage points."

"No," Sam agreed, looking out across the sand and noting the sheer walls that surrounded them.

"And there are no obvious features or equipment for gladiatorial training."

Sam glanced at him. "That was a Roman thing. I don't think the Ancient Egyptians went in for gladiators."

"Some Goa'uld are known to force captured enemies to fight for their entertainment."

"Really?"

"Indeed. Perhaps your Romans learned to enjoy the spectacle of bloodshed from Ra's legacy."

Sam winced. The Goa'uld often derived pleasure from inflicting or witnessing suffering, no doubt about that.

"Maybe," she said. "But I think our species is capable of learning that by itself."

"As are many."

"Anyway, if the Vizier does try to make us fight each other, we can refuse."

"No doubt he has developed methods to enforce his will."

"I won't fight you, Teal'c."

"I am gratified."

Their speculations were partly realised a little later. A number of armed Jaffa entered the quad, followed by slaves who removed the bars and opened the doors. About a dozen inmates moved out of the cells into the open air. Sam didn't recognise any of them and reasoned that they were existing occupants of the prison. The Jaffa shouted and struck on the doors of the other cells with their staff-weapons to encourage the new arrivals to follow their example.

Sam stepped out of her cell and watched as the veteran prisoners sat down in a rough circle in the middle of the quad. A guard pushed her forward and two prisoners shuffled aside to make room for her and for Teal'c to join them. She made a quick head count as the rest sat down and realised that the latest arrivals had almost doubled the numbers incarcerated.

Slaves brought them breakfast. Dishes of dates and figs, and plates of bread and dried fish appeared. It was not rich food but it was adequate. There was also beer, and fresh water lightly flavoured with spices.

While the prisoners ate the Jaffa stood guard, and there was no conversation. When they were done the slaves cleared away the empty utensils in silence. They left some urns of drinking water behind in the shade of a wall and withdrew with the guards behind the grill, leaving the prisoners with the run of the sealed quad.

A few minutes later the Jaffa lifted the grill again and a man in his fifties entered and approached the prisoners, unguarded. He wore sandals and a simple white kilt, and his head and body were completely shaven - even his eyebrows. He appeared to be unarmed and wore a single shiny amulet on a thong around his neck. Sam peered at the pendant as he drew near and saw that it was a small piece of polished iron. She guessed that the metal had come from a meteorite.

A girl followed the man into the quad. She looked about thirteen years old and was dressed in a similar kilt, but her hair was long and tied back with a strip of white cloth. She carried a large leather bag across one bare shoulder.

The man stopped and addressed the seated prisoners. Sam listened, following the foreign words as carefully as possible.

"To those who do not yet know me, I am Paneb the physician." He indicated the girl beside him. "This is Teye, my apprentice. Your wounds are my responsibility."

Sam frowned to herself, wondering if she had translated that last part correctly. Paneb continued:

"I serve my master Sisobek, Vizier to our lord Ra, who is charged with our lord's entertainment. You are his property and shall perform as he instructs you."

A snort from amongst the prisoners interrupted him. Sam glanced sideways to see the striking woman who had resisted the Jaffa last night sneering into the sand. Her swollen lip and bruised jaw made her expression of derision that much more effective.

The physician paused only long enough to make it clear that he had both heard and identified her. He didn't respond directly, but continued in a low, even-tempered voice:

"Like you, I am bound to my lord's will. I can not intercede for you, nor advise you except in your obedience to my master Sisobek. I am here only to tend to your health and sustenance."

Teal'c spoke up abruptly, his deep voice resonating in the still air. "What is the nature of the entertainment we are to provide?"

The physician looked straight at him. He didn't seem surprised by the question. "Whatever Sisobek commands." He stepped back and scanned the assembled prisoners. "Where is Sen-mut? Is he not recovered?"

A muttering rose amongst the seated men and women. A thick-set man spoke up, his tone sullen. "No. The guards couldn't wake him."

Paneb's face grew anxious. He gestured quickly to the shade on one side of the quad. "Bring him to me."

The prisoners rose and Sam stood up to watch as the surly man and three others crossed to one of the cells. They squeezed inside and emerged a few moments later carrying a limp figure between them. They brought the unconscious man to the shade and lay him face down on a clean sheet of linen which the girl Teye provided from a her bag. Sam's breath caught when she saw what condition the patient was in. There were some shallow cuts on his arms which looked liked defensive wounds, but his upper back and shoulders were in a far worse state. The skin was severely lacerated.

"What kind of a fight caused those injuries?" Sam asked Teal'c, who was now standing beside her.

Teal'c shook his head, a look of growing consternation on his grim features.

Sam looked round and repeated her question in the local language.

"It wasn't the fight," someone answered. Sam turned to see who had spoken and found a woman standing just behind her. Her skin was even darker than Teal'c's and shone like polished ebony. She had thick braided black hair, and a pair of symmetrical scars on her smooth cheeks which had to be decorative or tribal markings. Her gaze didn't leave the unconscious man as she explained further in a pronounced accent: "Sisobek ordered a fight to the death two days ago. Sen-mut refused to deliver the killing blow - his opponent was his friend and blood-brother." The woman's eyes narrowed and her face hardened. "Sisobek sent the guards into the pit to slit the other man's throat, then ordered Sen-mut beaten for his disobedience."

Sam grimaced, appalled. "With what?" she asked, her voice hushed. The wounds looked vicious. Paneb was wiping away fresh blood which was seeping from the prone man's shoulders. The afflicted area was covered with raised welts and clotted blood, but some deeper cuts were swelling and oozing around their neat stitches.

The physician took a jar of yellow ointment from his apprentice and gently smeared a fresh layer on to the lacerations, then lay clean strips of linen over them. He applied a dark and sticky substance which appeared to be some kind of poultice, designed to draw out infection.

The dark woman didn't answer Sam's whispered question. Her jaw was set in a rigid line and she seemed to be holding back a simmering anger.

"He is weak from blood loss and struggles with a fever," said Paneb. He addressed the men who had carried the patient. "Take him back to his cell and lay him down again." He turned to Teye. "Evil has penetrated the wounds. Stay with him. Give him drinks but no food yet. If he grows hotter, cool him with cloths soaked in water." He gave his supplies back to his apprentice and stood up.

Sam moved forward, her instinct to go to the patient to see if she could help him. Teal'c's firm hand on her shoulder restrained her.

"I believe the physician knows his work," he said.

"That man's fighting an infection, Teal'c. It could kill him."

"We have no antibiotics to give him. Are Paneb's instructions not correct?"

Sam hesitated. The physician had given the best advice, it was true. Teal'c was right. They should leave these people to do their job and keep a low profile.

Before they could continue their conversation Paneb made another announcement. "Newcomers, follow me!" He turned on his heel and headed for one corner where the slaves had arranged basins of water and firewood. "You shall be cleansed of parasites!"

Later in the afternoon Sam and Teal'c sat together in the relative cool of a stone cell, freshly bathed and their hair combed vigorously - to remove any lice, Sam reasoned. They wore clean, sleeveless open tunics of unbleached linen held closed with belts woven from papyrus. Their own clothes had been taken from them and burned. Sam realised that Paneb was a stickler for cleanliness, which no doubt explained why he shaved off all his own body hair.

Teal'c almost lost his supply of tretonin during the thorough cleansing process. Since losing his symbiote, Teal'c was dependent on the synthesised drug to maintain his immune system. After they became stranded five thousand years in their past, he took to keeping at least one tretonin injector sewn into the hem of his robe.

He and Sam were forced to act quickly to retrieve it before the slaves took it unwittingly and threw it on the bonfire. Sam ripped a small piece of cloth from a discarded cloak and wrapped the injector to cover its bright blue surface, and Teal'c managed to hide the package under his belt when he dressed again.

"Is that your only one?" Sam asked quietly as she tied her papyrus belt around her waist.

"It is."

They had brought a substantial supply with them when they travelled back in time to Ancient Egypt. They had brought supplies of many things: ammunition, medicines, flashlights and batteries, filters and tablets for water purification. In the months and years that followed most things ran out, or if not were lost. Bulbs and circuitry broke and could not be replaced. Power cells were depleted.

Their survival training meant that they knew how to do without, and in time their bodies adapted to the land's microbes. Sam's stomach learned to tolerate the water which passed for clean in Ancient Egypt, though she was more likely to trust the beer which the Egyptians usually drank. It had been boiled before fermenting and its alcohol content kept harmful bacteria at bay.

She took an interest in the substances available for medication - the plants which the Egyptian doctors used for analgesics or for their antibiotic properties. She melted the gold recovered from Teal'c's tattoo into a small ingot, and it saved Daniel's life when it bought wild honey from sub-Saharan nomads to dress a knife wound in his belly.

Their minor wounds healed - as did some not so minor ones - through a rigorous regime of hygiene to prevent infections; and their sound health fought off general ailments and water-borne diseases.

However Teal'c's dependence on tretonin was a problem which they could not combat. While he had access to a supply he was physiologically, as well as physically, the strongest among them. But when it ran out his body would have no natural defences to disease or infection. Sam soon realised that it was something he was not comfortable discussing.

"Do not concern yourselves. Now that we are part of the rebellion, I am unlikely to survive long enough to miss it."

"Is there any way we can make this drug ourselves, Carter?"

"Not a chance, Sir."

"Would it work if we grabbed a mature snake and crushed it? Squeezed out the juicy stuff?"

"No, Sir."

"Didn't think so. Would be fun, though."

"On the contrary, General O'Neill, it would be reckless and futile. Please speak of this matter no further."

Sam knew that Teal'c had rationed himself when he could, but they had not expected to be stuck in the past for the rest of their lives. She was surprised that he had managed on so little.

In the cool of the evening the prisoners reassembled in the quad. Slaves brought in food again - the same fare as before, but with some freshly cooked pieces of wild crane and quail meat added. Teye also appeared, bringing a timber box from which she distributed small stone and wooden pieces for board games.

Sam played a game of senet with the dark woman who had spoken to her earlier, but didn't even manage to coax her name from her. She made her excuses when the game was over and moved across to Teal'c, who was sitting alone with his back to a wall. She sat down beside him.

"Have you been thinking of ways to get out of here?"

He nodded. "Our options are limited. This is a sound prison."

"And well-guarded."

"Indeed. I have been watching the Jaffa in this section of the palace. They are well trained in the control of dangerous prisoners. When the guards move us there are always others protecting their flanks."

Sam winced. "Yeah, it's going to be difficult to take them by surprise. Even if we break out of this quadrant, there are two walled perimeters beyond."

"And an internal moat. It is supplied by a canal from the Nile."

Sam remembered the footbridge she had crossed as the Jaffa brought her into the palace. "It was dark when I arrived. Did you see how wide the moat is?"

Teal'c looked at her. "Approximately forty metres, but we can not swim across. The water is infested with crocodiles."

Sam shuddered. "Terrific."

"Nor can we expect a rescue. The rebellion has failed."

Sam frowned at his pessimism. "Not necessarily, Teal'c. We lost a battle, yes, but there are still plenty of people out there prepared to fight. Look around you. The people in here aren't cowed, and outside the same resentment which prompted the rebellion in the first place is still present. I saw evidence of that after I was captured. Nothing has changed."

Teal'c considered her words. "Perhaps you are right. My people were enslaved by the Goa'uld for so long that I forget that your Tau'ri rebelled so spontaneously."

Sam sighed. "Well, some of us weren't behind the rebellion, obviously. We were betrayed."

"Then we must hope that Daniel Jackson identifies the spies quickly."

"I'm pretty sure that's his top priority now."

The unspoken inference hung between them: Sam and Teal'c could not be Daniel's priority.

Eventually Teal'c gave that thought a voice. "He will assume we are dead, like O'Neill."

"Yes, as we thought you were. And he'll also have to assume that Ra's men tortured me for information first; and that I gave them some."

Teal'c nodded thoughtfully. "He will relocate, then attempt to re-group."

Sam pondered their situation. "Perhaps we're not in such a bad position."

Clearly Teal'c didn't follow her reasoning. His right eyebrow climbed high onto his forehead.

"We're deep inside Ra's palace," she said. "Maybe we shouldn't be thinking about trying to break all the way out. Maybe we should be thinking about what we can accomplish from the inside first."

Teal'c's eyes shone for a moment. He looked at her again. "You wish to engineer a revolt within Ra's palace?"

"Why not? It can only help the rebels on the outside, if only to divert attention away from them."

"And if we are successful..." Teal'c's expression showed that he was warming to the idea. He put his finger in the sand and drew a rough sketch of the palace's geometry, marking its corners and concentric walls. Sam added a couple of lines to represent the footbridge and the approach from the Nile. She collected some discarded stone game-pieces and used them to mark known guard posts.

"This is a key position," she said, indicating a corridor which extended from their prison compound and by-passed the main courtyard. "Anyone who holds this passage can secure a route to the footbridge."

Teal'c drew some wide furrows to illustrate the city outside and surrounding topography, then added more detail to the palace. "The slave quarters are here," he said, pointing. "If we can persuade them to participate in a revolt, their numbers would increase our chances greatly."

Sam winced. "They're not cannon-fodder, Teal'c."

"Then we must arm them."

"Yes... somehow," Sam added, wondering how. She looked up from the diagram and gestured towards their fellow prisoners. "There are some seasoned fighters amongst us. We should use them."

They continued their discussion quietly, comparing their knowledge of the palace layout and suggesting likely positions for ambush or infiltration. It went without saying that everything depended on their being able to escape the inner compound in which they were currently imprisoned.

"We will have to create the opportunity ourselves," said Sam, wondering which of their fellow prisoners might be most willing to participate.

The sun had already sunk well below the palace walls and left them in red-tinged shadow when one of the other prisoners approached them. The stocky, surly man who had spoken to Paneb crouched down in front of them, balancing on the balls of his feet as though he did not intend to stay long. He spoke very softly:

"I don't understand your words, but I can guess what you are saying. I must warn you - do not let the guards hear you speaking in this foreign language. Sisobek is wary of conspirators, and he will order your tongues cut out for Ra's entertainment if he suspects you of plotting."

He looked down at the patterns they had drawn in the sand, twisting his head at an angle. He pointed at the rough markings. "There is a third sentry point between these corners," he told them as he moved a stone from one position to another. "And that area there is the scribes' store-room. It isn't guarded." He pointed at another line in the sand. "You have missed an entire guard-room here... it provides security for the palace armoury housed behind it."

Then he stood up and left them, as abruptly has he had arrived.

Sam and Teal'c looked at each other for several moments.

"I would like to keep my tongue," said Teal'c, in careful Ancient Egyptian.

Sam replied in the same language. "I would like to get inside that armoury."

When darkness came they were locked in their separate cells again. Sam curled up on her meagre bedding and put her hand on the moonlit wall beside her, feeling the rough, unyielding stone beneath her fingertips. She didn't kid herself that it would be easy to escape the Pharaoh's prison. She fell asleep wondering what ordeals the Vizier Sisobek planned for them.

Sam could smell blood.

It wasn't her own. The stale, metallic tang rose from the sand under her bare feet. It made her throat tighten as she waited in the pit.

Her eyes already itched with sweat. She blinked hard and looked at her opponent again. The striking woman stood on the far side, similarly barefoot and unarmed. Her name was Nenufer, Sam had learned. They had struck up a casual friendship soon after their arrival. Nenufer was flamboyant and headstrong. She was very physical and impetuous. More than once she had not been able to resist provoking the Jaffa guards. The bruises around her mouth and jaw were faded now, but she had another fresh one on her shoulder. Sam knew she had played a committed role in the rebellion, and she was the first fellow prisoner Sam spoke to cautiously regarding their plans for a revolt.

Slaves had sprinkled water on the ground and raked it smooth, ready for the afternoon's entertainment. Sam's toes curled in the damp grains of sand. It was drying fast in the sun, which was high in the sky and bathed the small arena through an opening in the tall timber roof. The design created the effect of a stage-in-the-round lit by a single giant yellow spotlight from overhead.

It felt hot and claustrophobic down on the ground. The oval-shaped pit was enclosed by a curved stone wall about twelve feet high. There were cages built into one side, into which the guards confined the prisoners before sending them out onto the sand. Directly on top of the wall was a terrace of benches for spectators, placed just within the roof's shade. Sam peered up, squinting against the sun's glare. The row of benches was still unoccupied. At one side of the oval they gave way to an ornate chair - for Ra himself, she assumed.

Sam and Nenufer regarded each other apprehensively as they waited for their audience to arrive. They faced each other about thirty yards apart, standing with their backs to two wooden posts which were permanent fixtures near opposite walls. The sturdy posts were hewn from a single tree trunk almost two feet in diameter. They were stripped of bark and driven deep into the ground, rising to shoulder height above the sand. Each post had a heavy bronze ring bolted to it near the top. The only other feature of the small arena was a thick palm-fibre rope which had been hung from a high rafter in the middle. It dangled between the women, barely within reach from the ground.

Sam had seen men tethered by a wrist or ankle to the opposite posts and forced to fight each other. She couldn't guess what the rope was for.

Sam didn't want to fight Nenufer, and she knew that Nenufer didn't want to fight her. As yet no one had given them weapons. Sam hoped desperately that Sisobek would order an unarmed combat. Provided it wasn't a fight to the death they might avoid serious injury, yet appear to comply.

She knew that an outright refusal to engage world cost them dear. Three days after their arrival, Sen-mut died from his fever. Despite the best efforts of Paneb and Teye, the beaten man deteriorated and no amount of medical care or ritual prayer could save him. They fought a dedicated battle, as though he were one of their own family, and when their undoubted skills came to nothing Paneb took off his own amulet, placed the polished iron on Sen-mut's head, looked to the sky, and spoke incantations over him for hours. He only stopped when the man finally slipped away.

The Jaffa hauled Sen-mut's body away without the slightest show of respect. A strong and sullen resentment descended on the prisoners, sharpened by fear.

Sam shared both emotions as she stood waiting in the heat to be an object for Ra's amusement. It wasn't her first time in the pit. All the new prisoners were introduced to its bloodied sands on their second day. Sisobek assessed his new acquisitions from one of the benches in the shade above the wall. The Vizier wanted to observe them before deciding the best new entertainment for his lord.

He put Sam up in unarmed combat against the prisoner whose body was covered in strange tattoos. The man was clearly terrified of disobeying and attacked immediately, intending to give Sam no quarter. But he was unskilled, and after dodging him around the pit for a few minutes she felled him with a drop-kick which knocked him unconscious. She didn't even sustain a bruise.

She saw Sisobek smiling as he waved the guards to remove the fallen man and return Sam to her cage. She didn't like the knotting sensation that twisted her belly when she realised she had pleased the Goa'uld.

Now movement in the shadows above her caught Sam's eye and she saw a procession enter the spectators' terrace. Two slaves came in first carrying a rich red cloth between them, walking backwards before their god. Ra appeared next, his gold and painted pharonic mask hiding his face. He wore a long, pure white kilt and numerous anklets and bracelets of gold and precious stones. A large gold pendant in the form of a jewelled eye hung on his smooth chest, its gemstone glittering like a rock of fire. Sam also saw the familiar gleam of a ribbon-device on his left hand.

The slaves draped their cloth on the throne-like chair and Ra sat down, followed by a handful of attendants and courtiers who stood close by or took seats on the benches at the sides. Horus-guards took up their positions behind him. Then the two slaves moved to his sides, carefully took hold of his mask and lifted it from his face.

Sam was shocked by Ra's appearance. She knew a lot about this Goa'uld. She knew he was the first of his species to discover humans and seed colonies of slaves across the galaxy, only to be chased from Earth by an uprising, and defeated five thousand years later by Colonel Jack O'Neill and Doctor Daniel Jackson above the naquadah mines of Abydos. She had read the Colonel's report, and talked in detail with Daniel about their expedition to the desert planet. She had even been in the same room as Ra once before, when SG-1 came looking for the ZPM power source which Daniel believed was hidden in their past. Then she watched the Goa'uld from a distance as they hid behind worshippers and supplicants, seeing a masked, aloof figure attended by slave-girls, and witnessing his murderous cruelty first hand.

Now she saw him without his mask for the first time, and she realised that the human host this Goa'uld had taken was a mere boy: an exceptional boy, with smooth unblemished skin and dark, haunting eyes. This slender, beautiful thing was Ra. It was hard to reconcile the youth and simplicity of that face with the evil parasite that possessed it.

Ra nodded to his Vizier, who stood on the opposite side of the pit above the cages. Sisobek inclined his head respectfully to his lord, then in turn signalled to the guards below with an ivory-tipped rod he was holding. The Jaffa pulled on thick ropes and lifted the sturdy timber gate at the front of the furthest cage. Then they leapt back to the safety of their guard tunnel as a large, thrashing creature emerged.

Sam's eyes grew wide in horror. It was a crocodile.

A murmur of anticipation rippled through the spectators. Trapped below in the pit, Sam and Nenufer fell back instinctively, drawing together at the far end. Sisobek didn't intend them to fight each other, Sam realised with a sickening feeling. This was their opponent, and they were totally unarmed.

"The Nile beast is starved," Sisobek announced proudly. "It has not tasted flesh in weeks."

The noises of appreciation from the terrace were echoed by anxious sounds from the prisoners in the other cages. Sam saw Teal'c move to the bars, his lips slightly parted as he gauged the strength and speed of the animal. His concerned gaze flickered towards Sam. He shouted a warning, in English:

"Beware, Colonel! It is fast!"

"Silence!" Sisobek hissed angrily, and struck the top of the cage with his rod.

The crocodile was a young adult, nearly four metres long, and it did indeed move quickly. The splayed legs propelled the scaly body rapidly towards the middle of the pit. Its large head tilted as it caught sight and sound of the defenceless humans backing away.

Sam's breath caught. Primordial fear heated her veins with adrenalin and her heart pounded like a hammer against her ribs. Her mouth dried.

She heard Nenufer swear beside her. She glanced sideways and saw the muscular woman's limbs shudder. Then her eyes darted back to the reptile and focused on its terrifying sharp teeth.

"It will eat us both!" Nenufer gasped.

Sam drew in a lungful of air and forced her arid mouth to speak. "Nenufer, we have to work together..."

Nenufer looked up suddenly. "The rope!" She darted forward, trying to reach the middle of the pit before the crocodile could block her path.

Sam saw that Nenufer didn't have enough time. "No!" she yelled.

The crocodile surged forward and Nenufer ducked sideways, barely escaping its snapping jaws. She sprinted to the far end of the pit. The crocodile spun round in a swift circle, regained its bearings, and sped towards Sam.

Sam had nowhere to go. The pit's curved walls narrowed towards her, leaving her no room to outflank the animal and get past it. With a split-second decision she ran straight at the on-coming creature and leapt over its head as far and as high as she could.

Sam heard the harsh thud of the crocodile's powerful tail on the ground as it spun to catch her. She felt its breath on her skin, and then the rough hide of its snout scratched her ankle as she only just cleared its deadly jaws. The moment her heels hit the sand she hurled herself forward into another running jump and seized the rope dangling above her head. She pulled herself up with feverish hands until her feet found purchase, then scrambled up out of the crocodile's reach and clung on.

Beyond the noise of blood pounding in her ears she heard gasps of consternation coming from the cages. She looked and saw several prisoners staring up, wide-eyed. Teal'c's fists clutched at the sturdy bars and his face was gripped with fear for her.

She twisted her head sharply to see where Nenufer was. The dark-haired woman had put one of the posts between herself and the crocodile, but Sam knew that it could not provide an adequate obstacle to the hungry creature. The post was not tall enough to raise Nenufer to safety, and she had no hope of keeping it between them for long.

Nenufer scrambled to the near-side of the post as the crocodile circled it.

"Nenufer!" Sam shouted hoarsely. "Here! Now!"

Nenufer must have realised the rope was her only chance because she didn't hesitate. She turned and broke into a desperate sprint, her bare feet kicking up sand as she raced towards Sam. The crocodile swung around the post and charged after her. Sam saw Nenufer's terrified eyes closing on her and gripped the rope as tightly as she could, bracing herself. Nenufer leapt into the air with the ferocious creature not more than two yards behind her and grabbed Sam round the waist, hauling herself up. Sam grimaced as she took Nenufer's weight for the few seconds it took the other woman to climb up using Sam's shoulders for leverage, until she too could find a grip on the rope above them. The crocodile surged up and snapped viciously at their feet, then fell back to the sand, unable to reach its prey.

They clung on together, their breath harsh on each other's faces and their limbs still trembling, while the crocodile paused beneath them.

Oh crap, thought Sam. The crocodile wasn't going anywhere. They were stuck.

Sam looked across to the spectators, who were now not far above her but seated safely on a terrace that was well out of her reach. Ra was smiling slightly. Apparently their desperate efforts to escape amused him. She suspected that the spectacle of the crocodile seizing them and tearing them apart would amuse him far more.

Yet that was not going to happen for a while now. They could not hold on to the rope forever - they would tire and eventually fall. But they could hang on long enough to make the waiting tedious for the bloodthirsty audience.

Clearly Sisobek had no intention of letting that happen. He spoke imperiously. "One woman might satisfy the Nile beast's hunger. If she falls, the other shall escape."

Sam's eyes met Nenufer's, just inches from her own. She could feel the tension in the other woman's limbs and the heat of their exertion growing sticky between them. The meaning of Sisobek's announcement was obvious. He was trying to goad them into fighting each other, to force one of them into the animal's path.

Sam shook her head at Nenufer. Despite her obvious fear Nenufer confirmed with a typically derisive snort that she had no intention of turning on Sam either.

Sam wondered, incongruously, whether she looked as terrified as the other woman. She suspected that she did. She blinked the sweat from her eyes and reaffirmed her grip on the rope. This might be a tedious wait for the Goa'uld, but it would be an agonising one for the humans suspended above a pair of deadly jaws that need only bide their time to devour them.

Unexpectedly Ra spoke up. The boy's voice rang out with the resonant timbre of the parasite that possessed him. Sam didn't follow all of the Goa'uld but she thought she understood the word 'weapon' in it somewhere.

Sisobek signalled immediately to one of the guards, who brought him a long dagger. The Vizier held it up briefly, so that the spectators could see what he was doing, then threw it down into the pit. The bronze flashed in the sunlight as it spun through the hot air, and the blade hit the sand and buried itself several inches at an angle.

Impatient, Sam thought sourly.

"Could we kill it with that?" asked Nenufer breathlessly.

Sam couldn't imagine how they would get close enough. "Maybe. Very difficult."

"We will die if we don't try."

Sam agreed. They were going to fall eventually. Already her muscles were starting to ache. If one of them could get to the dagger...

"Sisobek wants us to risk it," said Nenufer, her voice growing pained.

Sam knew that. Their chances were that they would end up in the crocodile's teeth the moment they went for the dagger. Yet it was their only chance, and the sooner they took the gamble the better. "One of us must draw it off first," she said.

"I am faster," said Nenufer.

Sam was about to question that but she had no time to. As soon as the words were out of the other woman's mouth Nenufer's hands sprang from the rope and she dropped like a stone, landing just a few feet from the crocodile before bounding away.

Sam gasped in shock as the crocodile sped after Nenufer, then wasted no time and dropped to the sand herself, sprinting in the opposite direction for the dagger. As she pulled the weapon out of the ground she twisted and saw Nenufer speeding back towards her along one wall of the pit with the animal pounding behind her. Sam saw with horror that it would catch her in seconds.

Sam leapt forward across the crocodile's path and continued running. Her brief appearance in front of it confused the creature for a moment and it slowed, turned, then took after her instead. She was sure she had never run so fast in her life. She could hear the rough sound of its powerful scaly body gaining on her and she risked a look over her shoulder to gauge which way to dodge it. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Nenufer leap forward and collide with the crocodile. The muscular woman landed on its back and it hit the ground suddenly.

Sam skidded to a halt and spun, the dagger gripped so hard in her fist that her knuckles hurt. Nenufer had her arms and legs wrapped around the creature. It was trying to throw her off, and almost succeeded. The woman's grimace grew desperate.

Sam darted forward, trying to find an opening for the dagger while she had the chance. The crocodile found its feet and snapped towards her, forcing her to spring backwards. She lost her balance and rolled sideways as its pointed teeth caught her arm.

"Hurry!" Nenufer gasped. She hauled backwards, wrestling the thrashing animal, pulling its head and throat upwards to expose its pale yellow underbelly.

Sam threw herself forward in the sand right under its lethal jaws and plunged the dagger in. She aimed for the place she thought its heart must be and used all her strength to rip the blade upwards and out, thrusting it in again as hard as she could, feeling metal grate against bone. Blood spurted from the yellowish flesh and pumped over her arms.

The sound the crocodile made was unearthly. Its throat seemed to rattle. It writhed horribly, throwing Nenufer off its back in violent spasms. Sam struggled away from the danger in the sand as the animal's body jerked and made a sickening cracking sound. Then it collapsed, lifeless. Dimly, through the dust and heat and reptilian stench, Sam realised that the crocodile's convulsions had snapped its spine.

Sam was hardly aware of what was happening as the guards dragged her upright and returned her to the cage. Her lungs hurt and she was shaking from exhaustion. She sank to the ground with her back to the bars, her hands and arms sticky with blood and sand, her tunic soaked with sweat. She felt nauseous. Looking up, she saw that Nenufer fared no better. The other woman was kneeling, doubled over, and vomiting.

Teal'c came to the other side of the bars and spoke softly. "Are you injured, Colonel Carter?"

Sam wasn't sure. Adrenalin was still pulsing through her veins and arteries, confusing her awareness and physical sensations. She tried to remember - had the crocodile touched her? She looked at her arms and tried to wipe the stinking gore away, wincing as the abrasive sand stuck to her skin and scratched her. Was she bleeding underneath the dead creature's blood?

"I think I'm okay, Teal'c," she said hoarsely.

Teal'c wasn't satisfied, but at that moment the guards opened the cage in which he was held and ordered the prisoners out into the pit.

Sam groaned in dismay. Of course the entertainment wasn't over.

Hours later Sam sat in the evening shade in the quad with Teal'c beside her. Teal'c was sombre, even for him. Sisobek had made him fight three veteran opponents at the same time for Ra's entertainment. The three men were determined to beat him. One had died and the other two had severe concussions. The lesson in co-operation which Sam and Nenufer provided in such spectacular fashion meant nothing to them.

The long-term prisoners were comprised of various types - a mix of unfortunates who had simply fallen foul of the Goa'uld. Sam learned that some even hoped to gain their freedom by performing to Sisobek's satisfaction in the pit for long enough. Three such men paid a heavy price for that choice with Teal'c - one fatally. She doubted their hopes had a chance of being realised anyway. Sisobek would not relinquish his resources that easily.

However the recent prisoners were all captives from the rebellion, and the lesson Sam and Nenufer taught was not lost on them. Even though their cause seemed stalled they still shared a common point of view and purpose. Certainly they were not the type to collaborate with their captors.

Sam hissed suddenly.

Teye paused. "I'm sorry." The girl lifted her dampened cloth from Sam's arm for a moment.

Sam turned to the girl and nodded slightly to let her know she should continue. Teye resumed cleaning the three parallel cuts on Sam's forearm. The wounds weren't deep but they were ragged. The crocodile's teeth had come very close indeed.

Teye glanced at Teal'c as she worked, noting the big man's taciturn demeanour. "You should place the compresses we provided on those bruises, Nubian."

Teal'c kept his stare fixed on the wall opposite. "I am not a Nubian."

Teye wasn't put off by his terse tone. "Very well. Tend to your bruises, Not-Nubian."

Teal'c's eyes moved slowly to look at her. She held his gaze for long poignant moments, then turned back to her task.

Sam couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth. A mere girl was willing to out-glare Teal'c. He had just proved how dangerous he could be in Ra's pit, but she did not appear fazed by him.

"You remind me of someone I once knew," said Sam, a little wistfully. "She was a doctor too."

Teye glanced up. "In your homeland?"

"Yes."

Teye smirked again, with gentle cynicism, as though she did not believe that barbarians had real medicine. She looked again at Teal'c, pointedly.

Teal'c made a rumbling sound in his throat and reached for the wet linen rags that lay folded by Teye's bag. He applied them to some swollen, discoloured areas on his knee and shoulder. The compresses smelled fragrant and Sam guessed that they were soaked in a strong herbal solution.

"You're not afraid to enter the prison," said Sam. "Aren't you worried that someone in here might attack you?"

Teye's smooth brow creased in puzzlement. "Why would you attack? Paneb and I are only slaves, like you."

It was true, Sam reminded herself. Every human who worked under Ra's rule was a slave. Some performed menial tasks, others carried out skilled work and were more valued. A few, like the prisoners in the compound, were held in close confinement and forced to perform by the threat of immediate violence. But they were all slaves.

Teye finished cleaning Sam's wounds and took out some fresh clean linen. She began tearing it into strips.

"You are good at this," said Sam.

Teye smiled faintly. "I have a good teacher. You will find no better doctor than Paneb. You have no need to fear the treatments he prescribes." She smirked. "Unlike some, he will not subject you to poultices of raw camel dung."

Sam pulled a face. She remembered Janet telling her about some old - and some not so old - medical practises involving such unpleasant ingredients.

"Do you help him to prepare the medicines and ointments?" she asked.

Teye nodded as she worked. "Yes. I collect the plants and tend to the palace composts."

Sam frowned. Composts? That didn't sound so healthy. Perhaps her translation of the language was faulty. She raised an eyebrow at Teal'c, but he did not appear to be listening to the conversation.

Teye dampened the new bandages, then opened a leather pouch. She poured some white, crystalline powder into her palm and prepared to sprinkle it over the bandages. At first Sam thought it was salt, but then she realised it wasn't the right consistency. She reached out and stayed Teye's hand.

"What is that?"

Teye paused in surprise. "Don't worry. It is the pure form of human and animal waste. It will not harm you. It will soothe the pain while your wounds heal."

Sam blinked a few times. Her brain started to put things together. After a few seconds she realised that she was still holding Teye's hand and staring at her. She pulled back. "Don't use it. The dressings will be adequate."

Teye's eyes narrowed. Clearly she wasn't pleased. She answered indignantly. "Your superstitions are foolish, Barbarian. This is not bad magic. This is civilised alchemy. We use this powder for medicine and glass-making."

Sam held up her palm to placate her. "I understand. I didn't mean to insult you. It's simply that I don't need this medicine, and I know it's valuable. Please save it for those who do."

Teye huffed a little but she seemed mollified. "As you wish." She returned the handful of tiny white crystals to the bag and tied it carefully. Then she wrapped the linen strips around Sam's arm and secured them in place. She packed away her supplies and stood up.

Teye looked down at Sam, her face stern. "If the skin around them swells or the pain worsens, ask to see me." It was unmistakeably an order.

Sam nodded her compliance and Teye moved on to another patient. When she was out of earshot Sam turned aside quickly.

"Teal'c, I think I've found a weapon we can use."

Teal'c broke his still posture. "Please explain."

"They're manufacturing potassium nitrate!"

Teal'c's expression showed that he wasn't following. Sam elaborated. "Those white crystals are produced by the controlled decomposition of nitrogenous materials - organic waste products." She scooted closer, now excited. "Teal'c, the Egyptians also have granular charcoal and sulphur - the scribes and artists use them for ink and pigments. Potassium nitrate is saltpetre..." Her eyes shone a brighter blue suddenly and she grinned. "I can make gunpowder."

"Can you make enough of this weapon to arm us all?"

The surly man had spoken. In truth he was not as surly as he first appeared - he was merely practical and rather terse. Many days had passed before he identified himself as Ramose, a mercenary captured by Ra's forces some time ago. He did not say how long ago, but Sam got the impression it was years rather than months. He bore many old scars as well as recent ones.

The guards did not take the prisoners to the pit every day. Several days could go by during which Ra sought no entertainment from them. Sometimes during a quiet period Sisobek called one or two of them to the pit to try out a form of combat. The Vizier did not like surprises, Sam realised quickly. Surprises put him at a disadvantage before his lord, whose varied diversions it was the Vizier's job to satisfy.

Sometimes Sisobek wanted to see how a combatant might use a new weapon, or gauge the worth of a new animal loaned from Ra's exotic menagerie as an aggressor. One day Sam was shocked to see the twin brothers who had been brought in just after her own capture return from the pit with bleeding claw marks on their arms and chests. Ramose identified the culprit as a leopard.

"It was reluctant to attack," he said. "The guards goaded it with pain sticks."

Sam helped Teye and Paneb clean and dress the brothers' wounds, much to Teye's confusion. The physician's apprentice was especially surprised that Sam understood the principle of sutures.

The prisoners were not called to the pit if they had not recovered from an injury enough to provide good entertainment. During the long days when they weren't healing or simply idling they played games with a ball of rags bound in old leather, or exercised. They were not allowed weapons to practise combat - not that they wanted to. They ate and bathed and talked together, and occasionally Sam almost forgot that at any moment she might be taken to the pit and forced to kill or die horribly.

The deadly limbo in which she lived now was not a tolerable existence. Even if Sam had not had a goal - to rekindle the rebellion - she would have had to plan an escape.

Ramose was one of the few prisoners she and Teal'c were prepared to risk trusting with their plans, and the only one from among the veteran inmates. The others were all captives of the failed rebellion. Nenufer was among them, as were the twin brothers. Their leopard-claw wounds had healed, leaving long red scars on their slim bodies.

The conspirators sat together in the evening shade with dice and board games laid out among them. From a distance it appeared that the group were playing to pass the time, but in fact they were in quiet, earnest discussion.

Sam picked up a pair of ivory dice and threw them, then answered Ramose's question. "It's not that kind of a weapon. This... black powder... is difficult to deploy. Our best option is to make enough to blow our way into the armoury, so that we can arm ourselves with Ra's weapons."

Ramose squinted at her. "Blow?"

Sam winced. This wasn't easy. She didn't know which words of Ancient Egyptian would adequately convey the meaning of gunpowder's explosive properties. She looked at the other conspirators and realised that they too had not understood her. Damn. Gunpowder was as foreign to them as a naquadria-enhanced bomb. She wondered briefly if they had heard of the Ancient Greek fire, then remembered that she was still thousands of years too early in human history even for that volatile phenomenon.

She started again. "Ra's guards have staff-weapons which blast energy. They blast a kind of fire, right?"

The listeners nodded, staring at her. Good. She continued. "I can make this black powder and seal it in bags. We must place the bags next to the door or wall of the armoury. When the powder is set alight it will blast a way inside."

"Is there no simpler way to force entry?" asked Nenufer.

"No," said Ramose quickly. "The door to the armoury is sealed by a device which only Ra and his First Prime possess. I don't understand it, but I have seen it work. Even if we killed all the warriors who guard the door, we could not open it."

Sam reasoned that the device Ramose described was not necessarily complex. Even a mortice lock would look strange to these people. Yet it was most likely a Goa'uld lock of some kind. Given that it was five thousand years older than the locks she was used to breaking, there was no guarantee that she could open it quickly.

"Do you know what the door is made of?" she asked him.

"It is strong wood, reinforced with studded bands of bronze."

Sam nodded. Local materials. Ra had decided not to waste naquadah or advanced materials where humans had only bronze age weapons and tools. She wondered briefly if this was an example of his underestimating the people of Earth.

Not that SG-1 had equipped themselves with anything that could seriously challenge him when they travelled back in time...

"We didn't bring any C4, Carter."

"No explosives at all, Sir?"

"No. We just came for the ZPM, and you didn't want to risk altering the time-line, remember?"

"Crap."

"Yeah, that's what I said when you told me that 'a single block of C4 could alter our time-line, Sir'."

"I was right, Sir."

"Could have used it now that we're stuck here, though."

"We don't have to join the rebellion, Sir."

"The hell we don't, Carter. I'll choke to death on my own bile if I sit on my ass while Ra's Jaffa kill Earth's humans."

"You'll probably die quicker if we join, Jack."

"Suits me, Daniel. This Saharan sand is worse than the Gulf for getting into my orifices. And since we don't have any explosives, we'll just have to rely on our P-90's to blow new ones in Ra's knuckle-heads."

Sam knew that primitive gunpowder would perform poorly compared to plastic explosives, but if she could pack it to direct its force against one spot against the armoury...

"With enough powder we can blast a hole through the door or stone walls," Sam told the rebels. "There may be some damage to the interior, but there should be plenty of staff-weapons intact for us to take."

"And the smaller weapons which throw the blue flame..?" asked one of the twins.

"... Which paralyse and then kill?" added the other.

"Those sidearms are called zat'ni'katels," said Teal'c. He waited a moment, then sighed quietly. "You may call them zats."

"Yes," Sam confirmed. "Staff-weapons and zats. They're easy to shoot once you know how."

"A staff-weapon takes much practise to master," Teal'c cautioned, "but even in novice hands its fire-power makes it lethal."

"We have many obstacles to overcome first," said Ramose dourly.

Teal'c nodded. "Indeed. We must devise a plan to escape the prison compound, and we must obtain the ingredients for this powder."

Sam was about to speak but a warning look from Nenufer made her stop. The twins moved some game-pieces and Teal'c rolled the dice. Sam resisted the desire to look over her shoulder to see what had made them stop talking. She picked up a wooden peg casually and inserted it into one of a row of holes in the board in front of her. Nenufer followed her example, as though they were competing.

Sam heard the clink of armour and the thud of Jaffa boots drawing closer behind her. The guards usually left them alone after they had eaten their last meal of the day. What could they want at this time?

She soon found out.

"Barbarian!" Sisobek's voice rang out harshly. "Stand!"

Sam turned to look. The Vizier approached, flanked by two Jaffa. Four more armed warriors fanned out a few paces behind him. Another two stayed back to guard the open grill through which they had entered the quad.

Sam stood up slowly, a knot forming in her gut. She didn't like the gleam of anticipation she saw in Sisobek's eyes. "What is it?" she asked warily.

The Vizier's lip curled but he didn't answer. One of the Jaffa grabbed Sam roughly and pulled her arms behind her back. The other tied her wrists together tightly. Sam saw her own apprehension mirrored in the faces of the other prisoners as the guards pulled her away from them.

Teal'c leapt to his feet and advanced quickly. "Why are you taking her?" he demanded.

Immediately the guards closed in. Several staff-weapons powered up, levelling at him dangerously. One guard swung the butt of his weapon to strike him and force him back, but Teal'c blocked the blow with his forearm and made a grab for it.

The other Jaffa moved fast. Before Teal'c could claim the weapon a second guard dashed forward and struck his head a powerful blow from the side, knocking him down to one knee in the sand. The first guard's weapon opened its maw with a low, grinding clunk and hovered inches from Teal'c's chest, its grim glow threatening death in an instant.

Teal'c held his position. He knew he couldn't help Sam from the grave.

Once the threat was neutralized, Sisobek took pleasure in answering Teal'c's question. "Because Ra commands it," he said, sneering down his nose at him.

Sam tried to give Teal'c a reassuring look as the guards led her away. "I'll be okay," she mouthed silently.

Teal'c's expression showed that he did not believe it for a second.

Sam heard the grill thud heavily into the sand behind her as they left the quad. Instead of taking her down the short tunnel which led to the pit's cages, the Jaffa marched her up a dark, windowless staircase, past sentry positions and a guard-room, and on into a more communal area of the palace. Sam reaffirmed her memory of the doors and passages, noting this was the same route by which she had been brought down to the quad when she was captured. In the early evening light she could get a better feel for the layout, and she soon realised that apart from the narrow corridor to the pit, this was the only way in and out of the prison.

Sisobek strode ahead and the guards marched Sam quickly behind him, their gauntlets cold and unyielding on her bare arms. Sam had felt nothing but sand beneath her feet since she entered the compound, and the chill of the smooth stone was a surprise to her. It felt cool against her skin, and almost artificial. She wasn't used to it.

They passed many slaves going about their duties. The brighter colours worn by the higher-ranking slaves was also something she wasn't used to.

She tried to think of a reason why Ra would send for her. He had not summoned anyone from the compound until now.

"What does Ra want with me?" she asked suddenly.

Sisobek stopped and spun around abruptly. He seized her face and gripped so hard with his fingers and thumb that she could feel his nails digging into her flesh. He hissed his displeasure.

"Be silent, slave! Or I shall place a scorpion on your tongue to silence you."

Then he backhanded her sharply for good measure before turning on his heel again and striding on. The guards hurried her forward in his wake.

Sam knew how to hide her anxiety. She knew how to mask any sign that she feared Ra's unknown plans for her, or that she felt the bruising pain in her cheekbone. She called upon those reserves of composure now to still her features and calm her heartbeat as they took her up another spacious, decorous flight of steps into an opulent, guarded room, and through that into an even more luxurious one.

Sam's eyes widened as two Horus-guards closed heavy doors of carved cedar behind her. Ra's chamber was filled with shining décor and deep colours. The pelts of lions and cheetahs littered a tiled floor, topped with cushions covered in rich fabrics. Statuettes coated in gold and lapis lazuli adorned plinths set back against the ornate walls. There were gold dishes of dates, figs, grapes and pomegranates set out on low ivory-topped tables, and plates of fresh bread, olives and honey. Young male and female slaves obviously chosen for their physical beauty stood in attendance, some wearing strings of beads low on their hips, and others wearing nothing but bracelets and collars of rolled copper. A heady fragrance rose from censers of incense that burned in all four corners. It made Sam feel a little light-headed as the guards manoeuvred her with rather more care than they had shown before into the centre of the room.

Ra was sitting on a fine ebony chair, his slim, tanned body reclining on a thick cloth of deep crimson that was draped over the shiny surface. A slave knelt at either side and another stood behind him with a large fan of ostrich feathers.

The Pharaoh's eyes were closed, their lids shadowed with dark grey pigment, but he wasn't sleeping. He moved his head slightly as Sisobek approached at his side, apparently aware of the other Goa'uld's nearing presence. His chin tilted and he listened as the Vizier bent close and spoke softly near his ear.

Ra's youthful lips curved into a smile. Sisobek straightened and stepped back a pace, waiting.

Sam also waited, flanked by the Jaffa who still held her, feeling soft fur beneath her toes, and the gentle waft of air from the fan-bearer.

It seemed a long time, though it was probably only a few seconds, but at last Ra's eyes opened. The white glow of the Goa'uld parasite flashed on Sam immediately, then faded again. The boy didn't move as his possessed eyes raked over her several times. He spoke eventually.

"You gave us much amusement when you killed our Nile beast."

He straightened in his seat and put his right hand out to the side. The slave girl kneeling there placed a gold-rimmed cup of wine in Ra's hand and he took a long drink from it, never taking his eyes off Sam. He licked the crimson liquid from his lips and murmured again. "Tell us, Barbarian, did you enjoy the slaughter?"

Sam blinked twice, rapidly. She had not expected such a question. Ra continued without waiting for an answer, louder this time.

"Did you relish the warmth of its blood on your skin? The smell of its fear?" He leaned forward a little. "The crack of its spine resounding in your ears?"

Sam swallowed hard. Ra's words brought back the sensory memories of that hideous moment as clearly as a Tok'ra memory device. Her stomach turned and she tasted something acrid at the back of her throat. After a few moments she realised that this time Ra expected an answer.

"No."

The Goa'uld leant back again. He seemed neither satisfied nor disappointed with her reply. He glanced at his Vizier and lifted a casual finger from the rim of his cup to wave in Sam's direction.

"We would see her."

Sisobek motioned to the guards to release their hold and stand back as he stepped forward to face Sam. He gripped the edges of her tunic at the chest and pulled it apart roughly, tugging the hems loose from the papyrus belt that held them together, dragging the linen over her shoulders and down her arms. He left the tunic hanging on the belt and her bound wrists, exposing her for Ra's inspection, and stood aside so that his lord could see her.

Sam refused to feel embarrassment at being stripped to the waist. She had learned that the significance of nakedness was a matter of context in Ancient Egypt. Dancers and singers wore little more than jewellery when they entertained at celebrations. Workers on the Nile and in the fields often wore nothing as they laboured. Even now Sam was wearing more clothing than most in the room. Only the Jaffa and Horus-guards were fully covered.

Ra sipped more wine as he studied her again. Sam kept her own eyes on his face, determined to maintain some poise under his slow scrutiny.

"She seems strong enough," said the Pharaoh. "Is her health sound?"

"Yes, my lord."

Ra flicked his finger towards her again. "Be certain."

Sisobek held the back of Sam's head with one hand and gripped her jaw with the other, forcing her mouth open. He tugged brutally as he checked the condition of her teeth, as though she were an animal for sale at market.

Anger built within her at the humiliation. She jerked her jaw out of his grasp and glared at him in cold fury. The Vizier recoiled at the bitter resentment that flared in her eyes, suddenly unnerved by her defiance. Then he got a hold on himself and slapped her hard. She had made him look fearful for a moment and clearly he was livid.

Shaking with barely contained rage, Sisobek kicked the backs of her legs so that she fell to her knees, then grabbed her hair viciously and pulled her head back. His thin lips drew back in a threatening snarl.

"You will show subservience before your god, Barbarian! Or I shall have you scourged until you beg to worship him."

Sam kept the grimace from her face as she endured the sharp pain in her scalp, fixing Sisobek with a steady stare which belied the tight, sickening feeling just below her diaphragm. She had no doubt he would make good on his threat if he felt like it.

Sisobek let go of her hair with an angry jerk of his arm, forcing her head down. Sam decided not to raise her head back up again. She stared at the lion pelt on the floor in front of her instead, her teeth gritted and her jaw rigid.

Ra chuckled quietly. "She is rebellious. She is too much of a risk." The Pharaoh adopted a less formal mode of speech as his amusement grew. "Though physically she is acceptable. Were you to take her as a host, Sisobek, I might summon my Vizier for personal as well as administrative duties."

Sam closed her eyes and shuddered. A host. Ra had summoned her to assess her potential as a host. Perhaps his future lo'tar?

The Goa'uld was wise enough to realise the folly in such a choice now. Ra knew she could not be trusted. Yet apparently Sisobek needed confirmation of his Pharaoh's decision.

"You reject her, my lord?"

Ra spoke formally again, with a note of impatience. "Of course we reject her. What did you expect of a barbarian? She's dangerous."

The Vizier continued hurriedly, as though he were trying to salvage some pride after his failure to please the Pharaoh. "Then may I suggest an appropriate alternative for your entertainment?"

Sam looked up in time to see Sisobek beckon a slave forward. A boy approached carrying a small jar made of red glass, no taller than a man's finger. Clearly the Vizier had prepared for this eventuality. Sam peered at the jar as the slave handed it to him, trying to see what was inside it. She glimpsed a thick, dark liquid.

Ra smiled, revealing even white teeth. "Ah. Yes. She is well suited to such an experiment."

The guards gripped Sam's upper arms again and held her tightly. She tensed as Sisobek removed a wooden stopper from the jar and seized her jaw once more. A strong mailed fist gripped her hair and shoved her head back while another forced her mouth open. She struggled.

Sisobek leered down at her as he pressed the rim of the jar to her lips and tipped it upright. Helpless to resist, Sam tasted a sickly sweetness as the contents poured into her mouth. She tried to spit it out but Sisobek forced her mouth shut and squeezed her flesh, making her choke and swallow. The sticky liquid fell down her throat and a strange bitterness followed on her tongue.

The guards let her go and she coughed, trying to keep her balance as she knelt unsteadily between them. Warmth flooded her stomach. She drew in a ragged breath, and suddenly the smell of the incense in the room was stronger. The fur beneath her shimmered, then began to undulate like the rippling muscles of a lioness chasing prey. Colours around her brightened and shone translucent, and she wondered if her pupils were dilating or contracting...

That was her last coherent thought as her skin crawled and a pinkish haze heated her vision. The room fell away from her, its walls receding rapidly like expanding galaxies. She heard Ra's laughter again, echoing in her skull, and she began to struggle fiercely...

Sam was on a sandy beach. No, not a beach... the desert. She was face down in the desert. The sun bore down harshly on her back, but there was no wind to caress her hot skin. She felt trapped... enclosed and claustrophobic. No, not the desert... a sandy pit. She was in the pit.

Hot. So hot.

They wanted to kill her. That was why she was here – to die.

Her mouth was dry. Sand coated her lips. Her ribs hurt. They would come for her... they were coming to try to kill her, again.

She groaned and brushed the sand from her face. The tiny grains scratched her skin. The desert was a killing field. The dead lay all around her, their freshly spilled blood staining the shifting ground, drying like old rust in the sun.

Her mother was dead. Her friend was dead. Her father was dead. Her leader was dead. Their names were lost to her, but she remembered them. Their five thousand year-old bones lay strewn about her, bleached on the ancient battlefield.

A voice rang out across the desert; from the edge of the pit; from the depths of her hatred:

"Rise up, Barbarian! The enemy is upon you!"

They were coming. They were here! She rolled, feeling the weapon at her side touch her palm and scrape her flesh. She gripped it tightly, letting the leather-bound shaft press into her skin. The fingers of her other hand caressed obsidian and jagged edges. She pulled herself to her feet, testing the heavy weapon's weight.

Dry. So very dry.

She was in the pit. In the desert. They were dead, bleeding around her, their arid bones weathering to dust. Was she the last?

She shook the sweat from her eyes, tried to focus. The enemy was close, bearing down on her to finish what they had started. Faint red mist rose under her eyelids. She snarled in fury, in utter defiance. She wouldn't let them kill her too. She would kill them first!

She whirled. Shadows darted away from her and she pursued them. She would kill them before they killed her, now, before it was too late to run. She struck out, finding the soft yield of retreating flesh, hearing the cry of pain. She swung savagely.

They drove hard into her back. They were trying to knock her down. She couldn't let them... couldn't let them pin her to the blood-soaked dust. She twisted and wielded the weapon again; felt and heard the wet crack of bone inside torn flesh. She spun and struck in a lethal arc, lashed out again and again, driving them back and running them down all together then one by one, until they couldn't come back.

She sank to her knees in the sand, wiped their blood from her eyes and mouth. She lay down under the sinking sun, and went to sleep in the desert...

Sam woke to drops of water on her parched lips. She touched the moisture with her tongue and felt more drops fall on its swollen surface. Swallowing was difficult.

A gentle voice drifted over her. It was a deep voice which she thought she should know:

"Colonel Carter, can you hear me?"

She tried to open her eyes, but her lashes merely fluttered, letting through slivers of light. More drops of water fell in her mouth and soothed her aching throat.

"Colonel Carter, do you know where you are?"

She tried to remember through the haze that filled her senses. A drink. The Goa'uld had made her drink something - a vile liquid.

It was hot here. It was hot and they had forced a drug down her throat.

Her lips moved. "Netu..."

A pause. The voice spoke again. "This is not Netu, Colonel Carter. We are on Earth. Do you remember why we came here?"

"Dad?"

The speaker sighed and spoke in another language. She understood the foreign tongue.

"She is confused."

"That is understandable," said another voice.

Sam forced her eyes to open and slowly focused. Stone surrounded her in a cramped cell. She looked down the length of her prone body and saw that her wrists and ankles were bound. She looked up, panicked, and found a face she recognised.

"Teal'c?"

Teal'c put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Do you know where you are?" he asked again.

Her eyes widened, uncomprehending. "Teal'c, please untie me."

Teal'c looked to his left, where Paneb knelt beside him. The physician shook his head.

Sam pulled on her bonds, anger and desperation overwhelming her. "No!" she shouted in a hoarse voice. "Let me go!" Her vision shimmered a dull red. Her captors' hands fell on her as she convulsed, holding her down firmly. She fought them with the last of her strength until darkness claimed her again.

The next time she woke she knew exactly where she was: deep inside Ra's palace in Ancient Egypt, locked in the Pharaoh's prison. Her head was pounding and her joints ached.

"She is lucid again," said Teye.

She felt Paneb's breath on her as he peered closely into her face. "Her eyes are clear this time. It is safe to free her."

"Shall I bring some food for her?"

Sam grunted. "I'm right here. You could ask me, you know."

Paneb produced a tiny bronze blade from inside his belt and sliced through the ropes. Sam winced as they fell away from skin which was badly chaffed.

"You struggled a great deal," Paneb told her.

Sam forced herself to sit up. She looked at Teye. "I am hungry," she admitted.

Teye hurried out of Sam's cell and Teal'c knelt down on one knee in her place, his concern obvious.

"Teal'c... what happened?"

"You were drugged."

"With what?" She hurt all over.

"A powerful poison," said Paneb, spitting the words in disgust. "I don't know its composition, but I have seen its effects before. You entered a savage delirium, and then you collapsed."

Collapsed? She didn't remember that.

"It has been three days since Sisobek took you," Teal'c told her. "We did not know if you would survive the toxic effects of the drug he gave you."

"Most don't," Paneb added grimly. "That's why Sisobek rarely tries it on the slaves. He has lost too many to it."

It had to be some kind of psychoactive drug the Goa'uld had concocted, Sam reasoned. The memory of its sensory effects when it was forced down her throat was coming back. It probably contained hallucinogens and stimulants - powerful and fast-acting ones, if her memory was accurate. She tried to remember what happened afterwards.

"I was in a battle... somewhere." She scanned what little recollection of the subsequent sensations she had, searching for a clue to what had happened. "I'm not sure where they took me. There were people fighting me... I think I won."

Sam caught the look which passed between Teal'c and Paneb. A cold fear gripped her. "What is it?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper.

Teal'c took her hands in his own, holding them firmly. His skin felt strangely chilled against hers. Perhaps she still had a fever.

His words were as solemn as his dark eyes. "You were in the pit. You killed Menkhaf and Mereuka."

Sam started. A wave of disbelief swept through her as his words hit her like a lightning bolt. She expelled a harsh breath. "The twins?"

Teal'c nodded, watching her carefully.

Sam's jaw fell in shock. The twin brothers! She'd killed them? Her incredulity twisted into a growing horror. She recoiled but Teal'c held on to her fast. Her drained features turned ashen. "No!" she blurted. "No!"

"It's true," said Paneb quietly.

Sam's stricken eyes leapt back and forth between them. It couldn't be. She couldn't have done that. She shook her head wordlessly, refusing to believe it, even though she knew they would not make it up.

"No one blames you," said Paneb. "They know what was done to you."

Her chest heaved and her mouth gaped. This couldn't be real. She was still hallucinating.

"Sisobek is to blame," Teal'c told her firmly. "He poisoned you. He made them go into the pit with you and-"

"NO!" she yelled in his face, wrenching her hands from his grasp. Then her face wilted as the truth of what had happened caught up with her reasoning. She had killed those men. She remembered: she had chased them down and slaughtered them.

It was not long since she had sat with the two brothers in conversation. They were not natural warriors. Lightly built and of average speed and strength, they had been chosen by Sisobek for Ra's entertainment only because they were identical twins. When Sam helped to dress the wounds caused by the leopard, Menkhaf told her that they came from a family of fishermen. He and Mereuka had joined the rebellion out of moral conviction. Their mother had been killed by Ra's Jaffa, and they saw the cause to overthrow the cruel Pharaoh as just and necessary. Their father did not want them to take part, Menkhaf added. He was afraid of losing more family to their oppressors.

Now she had done that murderous work for the Goa'uld. She had killed them, brutally.

Sam didn't know whether it was the revulsion she felt at her part in their senseless deaths or the after-effects of the powerful drug, but suddenly her stomach churned. She scrambled between Teal'c and Paneb and rushed out of the cell, knocking Teye aside so that the food the girl was carrying scattered wildly. She fell to the ground and retched. Her stomach was an arid void and her painful heaves were dry and empty. She clutched her abdomen and gasped in anguish.

"I'm a murderer!"

"No," said Teal'c, standing behind her. His voice was the low, determined growl he made when he spoke in grim and angry earnest. "The Goa'uld are the murderers. Ra and Sisobek."

"I killed them, Teal'c! I beat them to death!" She looked down at herself suddenly, expecting to see the blood and splintered bone on her limbs and clothing, but someone had washed her and dressed her in a clean tunic. "Oh God, did you see me do it?"

"I did not. But Paneb and Teye were present."

Sam cringed and covered her face with her hands. Teye had witnessed this grotesque violence? She was hardly more than a child.

"And one other," said Teal'c.

Sam looked over her shoulder and up at him sharply. "Who?"

"Three prisoners were sent into the pit to fight you. Two died." Teal'c's gaze lifted to a lone figure who was standing by the wall about thirty paces away. "The third escaped you by climbing the rope. You collapsed before she did."

Sam stared, the awful reality of what had transpired in the pit slowly sinking in deeper. What had her victims gone through? She recognised the figure by the wall as the dark-skinned woman with symmetrical tribal scars on her cheeks - the one whose name she had not been able to find out. Sam saw that her left arm was splinted, and even from this distance she made out large, bruised swellings on her lower legs.

Sam let her head fall in her hands again, resting her tense forehead on clenched, upturned fists. After the disbelief and the horror, bitter despair set in. Sisobek's words to her on the day of her capture returned with cruel mockery: We shall soon see how savage you are. She felt her eyes prickling with anger and a fierce saltiness blurred her vision. Her voice cracked.

"Why the hell didn't she come into the cell and kill me when she had the chance?"

Teal'c's hand rested on her shoulder, strangely cold through her light tunic. "Paneb spoke truthfully, Colonel Carter. No one here blames you. And I understand the woman wishes to speak with you."

She couldn't. She couldn't face that. "Not now, Teal'c. I can't. Not yet."

The following day she did. Sam still felt physically weak and she had yet to keep a decent meal down, but at least the ache in her limbs and joints was beginning to wear off. She sat down with a plate of bland, dry bread, slowly chewing tiny pieces in the hope that her stomach would not reject it. The dark woman joined her with her own dish, sitting down carefully in the sand with a pained grimace.

Sam turned to face her, trying to see the woman's eyes underneath the long braids of shiny black hair, looking for a clue as to her true feelings and motivation. They became clear soon enough.

"I know you did not attack us," said the woman in a strong, deep accent. "I saw the demon that possessed you in the pit."

Sam swallowed carefully. "You saw it?"

The woman nodded seriously. "Yes. I saw its blood in your eyes." She looked straight at Sam, peering at her closely. "Your eyes are unusual. They are clear like the sky. The demon could not hide itself when it possessed you."

Sam wondered if she understood what the woman was saying. She frowned. "What did you see through my eyes?"

"I saw its blood," the woman repeated, nodding firmly. "The demon was inside you. It was blood-red." She picked up a fig with her good hand and bit into it.

A red mist. She remembered that part.

Sam sipped some water from a cup. "Did Menkhaf and Mereuka... did they fight or try to run?"

The woman's tone was practical. "There was nowhere to run. The demon was so fast, and so wild and strong. We couldn't hold it down and we couldn't escape it. It killed the men, and I hung from the rope by one arm until the demon was gone."

That was the end of their conversation. The dark woman seemed entirely convinced that a supernatural creature had possessed Sam's body, and that her restored, blue-eyed appearance was irrefutable evidence that it had left her. From her unequivocal perspective, Sam was blameless and now entirely free of its malign influence.

Sam felt neither blameless nor free of the poison's influence. She felt drained of energy, and the emptiness left in its wake soon filled with irrational guilt. She had always been one to take responsibility for her actions and decisions, even to the point where she insisted on shouldering the weight of mistakes which had not been only hers in the making. The rational part of her mind knew she was not morally responsible for the deaths and injuries she had caused, but that same part of her also believed that the dark woman's understanding of what had happened was too forgiving. There was no demon. No other creature's consciousness - not supernatural nor earthly nor alien - had seized control of Sam's body. She had not been invaded or coerced by a spirit or living parasite. She had just been deluded.

Sam knew what real possession was like. She knew what it felt like to have another being take over her physical form and enforce its will through her body. Jolinar had ripped control of her limbs and speech from her in a matter of moments, and none of her silent demands and pleas and protests could sway the Tok'ra symbiote from its course once it had her.

This time there was no alien parasite. To Sam's mind, whatever violence and anger or paranoia Sisobek's drug brought forth in the pit was somehow drawn from her own psyche. That barbarity was inside her, and it was most likely still inside her now as she sat quietly next to a taciturn yet totally forgiving victim, feeling thoroughly sick to her stomach.

The conspirators assembled again that evening with their dice and board games on the ground between them. The others nodded to Sam quietly as they sat down, acknowledging what she had gone through, but they said nothing about it. The twins were no longer among them, and the brothers' absence from such a small group was a more powerful testament to what had happened than any words could summon.

Yet as soon as they were assembled, Sam learned that something had come of their brutal deaths.

"Teye will bring us the ingredients for the black powder," said Teal'c.

Sam flinched in surprise and stared at him. "Teye?"

"Yes. She collects the saltpetre, and she can also gain access to the store-rooms where the sulphur and charcoal are located."

"You've already spoken to her?"

"I have, while you were unconscious."

Sam felt uneasy. Was she missing something? Teye was neither a prisoner nor a rebel, and she was so young. "Do you think you can trust her?" she asked, unable to keep the wariness from her voice.

The mercenary Ramose answered. "There is no one we can trust better among those who are able to do this for us."

That was probably true, Sam admitted, but hardly reassuring. "Teye isn't in any immediate danger," she said. "She has so much to lose if she is discovered doing this." She turned to Teal'c again. "Why is she ready to risk that for us?"

Teal'c regarded her steadily. "You remember that Teye witnessed what happened to you and the others in the pit?"

Sam swallowed and kept her voice steady. "I don't remember, Teal'c. You told me she did."

He nodded. "It was the first time she had seen Sisobek's poison used on a prisoner. She was..." He paused, obviously thinking about his choice of words, then continued, "she was greatly disturbed by the spectacle."

Sam inhaled deeply and let the breath out again. "I see," she said tightly.

"She hardly left your side after you collapsed," said Teal'c. "We spent many hours talking in your cell while we watched you."

"You persuaded her, didn't you?"

"She did not need to be persuaded, Colonel. She was angry. She wants to help us defeat Sisobek."

"And Ra," said Ramose. "She is a natural rebel."

It made sense, Sam realised. The girl had witnessed something horrific, and Sam already knew that she was not the type to be cowed easily. If she showed any sense of outrage, Teal'c would know how to stoke her defiance and channel it productively. He had spent many years doing just that with his own people, identifying the most likely fighters and encouraging them to rise up against their Goa'uld masters. Teye was a likely prospect.

"You haven't involved Paneb, have you?" she asked suddenly.

"No."

Nenufer spoke up, her tone dismissive. "Paneb is old. He doesn't like what is done around him, but he doesn't see the opportunity for change as others do."

Teal'c nodded again. "Indeed. We can not risk his fear betraying us. But Teye is young. She has youth's idealism, and the desire to change her world for the better. As a young female, she is less likely to fall under the guards' suspicion. I believe we can rely on her ability to help us."

Sam sighed and nodded slowly. She hoped that Teye wasn't too young for such a responsibility. They were asking her to risk her life along with them.

Teye was used to being ignored.

Not by Paneb, who was always kind to her, and had taken responsibility for her welfare when she lost her parents to a sickness. No, her uncle Paneb never ignored her. Teye knew that a lesser man might have dismissed her as an unwelcome liability, especially now that she was old enough to be married off his hands. But Paneb was not that kind of a man. He had never married nor fathered children, and now he saw his niece as an opportunity rather than a burden: an opportunity to pass on his skills and knowledge as a physician.

So Teye had gone to live with Paneb in the Pharaoh's palace, where she soon became her uncle's eager apprentice. The first thing she learned was how to gather medicinal plants and to make ointments and tinctures. Paneb taught her how to grind seeds and mineral compounds into powders, and to prepare antiseptic dressings for wounds and poultices for infections. Later her uncle let her accompany him into the Pharaoh's prison where he made daily visits, and she watched as he examined the prisoners for signs of illness and treated their injuries.

At first Teye didn't understand how the prisoners sustained the wounds she and her uncle treated so regularly. She assumed the criminals fought amongst themselves because violence was their inclination. Then one day her uncle took her to observe two of them fight in the pit for Ra's entertainment, and then she understood only too well what was really happening.

That evening she walked back to her room in the slave quarters with a new perspective of both the divine Pharaoh who ruled them and those he held captive. She also understood for the first time that it was better to be ignored by certain types of people; ignored by Jaffa guards, for example.

The guards hardly spared her a glance these days. The slim girl with the over-sized cowhide bag on her bare shoulder was a common sight in the palace corridors. She made several trips a day between the stores and the apothecary, and tended the physician's garden and fermentation plots regularly. Teye passed through sentry posts and guarded doors without hindrance, and she was allowed to enter the prison on her own to bring fresh dressings and medication. The guards never questioned her or searched her. Why should they? She was just a low slave - an insignificant girl with a regular, approved task to fulfil. She was neither subversive nor dangerous. She was just the physician's menial servant.

They should search her, Teye thought wryly as the Jaffa raised the grill to let her into the compound. The guards should have searched her bag every day for quite some time now. If they had they might wonder why she was bringing such quantities of charcoal, sulphur and bright-powder into the prison. They might question the excessive amount of bright-powder - far more than was needed for dressings; and they might ask what medicinal purpose the charcoal and sulphur served.

Teye would not have been able to explain such a quantity of the white crystals, and though she had devised excuses to give the guards if they asked her about the charcoal and sulphur, she doubted they would look well on the theft of compounds from the palace scribes' and artists' stocks of materials.

But they didn't ask her. If the Jaffa looked at her at all it was with disdain, or the occasional lustful leer at her half-naked body which made her skin crawl. For the most part they ignored her.

Which suited her perfectly.

And today she brought more than the ingredients for the Barbarian's mysterious black powder. Today she brought news which she knew would interest the brave plotters.

"Ra's First Prime is directing many patrols into the edges of the Nile valley," she announced as she gave the not-Nubian her bag to empty. "He fears another uprising."

The Barbarian and the not-Nubian - Sam and Teal'c as she now knew them - looked at her with sudden interest.

"Do you know why?" asked Teal'c.

She didn't, but she had seen for herself the extra patrols leaving the palace, and heard the insistent commands of Horus-guards that the traitors be hunted down and executed before they defy our god again. She told the plotters what she had witnessed.

"Daniel," said Sam. It seemed to Teye that the Barbarian's eyes lit up a little as she spoke the name.

Teal'c nodded thoughtfully as he unpacked the bag. "He has regrouped."

"That's good," said Sam. "Ra is focused on a potential revolt from outside again. He won't be expecting trouble from within his own palace."

Teal'c handed the cloth packages to Sam, who began measuring the quantities and mixing them into bags sewn from sacking. The rough fabric must have come from the prisoners' allowance for bedding, Teye realised. Several of the inmates must be sleeping uncomfortably.

Teye didn't understand what the Barbarian was making. She realised that there was much about the tall, blue-eyed, sun-haired woman which she didn't understand now. Teye knew, for example, that unlike her own people the Barbarians from beyond the northern seas were not civilized. They had no writing, and they possessed only a primitive understanding of magic and medicine. Yet this Barbarian knew how to splint fractured limbs and how to suture knife wounds. More strangely, Teye had seen the shiny double amulet which Sam wore around her neck, or sometimes hid beneath her tunic, and she had glimpsed the strange script engraved upon it which must be a foreign incantation.

The Barbarian's relationship with the not-Nubian also puzzled her. The tall dark-skinned warrior - for he certainly was a professional warrior, that much was obvious - claimed that he came from a land further south than anyone she knew had ventured. Yet Teal'c and Sam sometimes spoke together in a shared tongue which she couldn't begin to fathom. Teye couldn't understand how two foreigners from the disparate limits of the world, so different in appearance, shared this strange language. It was not like the brusque language of the gods and their brutal warriors, either, which she had soon learned to follow. Many cultures and tongues mixed in Egypt, but the common speech of these two foreigners was truly alien.

Teye saw that Sam knew how to fight well too, which at least did not surprise her. The Barbarians were known for their individual prowess in battle, and clearly this one had trained in combat. Teye had seen that much for herself, though in circumstances she wished she hadn't. She knew as soon as she saw the woman dragged into the pit, her eyes wild with irrational terror and confusion, that Sisobek had poisoned her. The guards threw her down and kicked her repeatedly, then put a mace in her hand and left the three other prisoners to take the brunt of her fear and anger.

After much contemplation, Teye concluded that Sam and Teal'c had been soldiers together, perhaps mercenaries, in the army of some foreign king before Ra captured them. Whatever their history, she could tell that the Barbarian and the not-Nubian cared deeply about each other. They were committed comrades in arms, both skilled and courageous. Teye saw that the not-Nubian held the Barbarian in great esteem, and that his respect for her was reciprocated.

Teye knew she would never be as skilled a fighter as the Barbarian woman, and she doubted she would ever be as beautiful, but she hoped that one day she might be as courageous.

Sam was back in the pit again, but this time she was lucid.

A leather covered shield was strapped to her left arm and she carried a short, bronze-headed axe. A solid shackle was clamped on her left ankle, chaining her to the ring in one of the posts, allowing her no more than ten feet of freedom. The chain was steel, she realised - Goa'uld rather than ancient human technology.

Teal'c stood beside her on her right, similarly armed and tethered. They waited in the hot sun, peering at the cages to see who or what would be sent out to attack them.

"I don't want to kill anyone else, Teal'c."

"We may have no choice, Colonel."

Sam narrowed her eyes against the bright sunlight to look at the terrace above them. Ra was there again with his guards and attendants. Sisobek was in his usual position above the cages, directing the performance.

Sam glanced at Teal'c, and saw that he had his eyes closed.

"Teal'c?"

Teal'c opened his eyes and blinked rapidly.

"Teal'c, are you okay?"

"I am weary."

Sam transferred her axe to her left hand quickly and put her palm against his face, checking for a fever. Instead of the heat she expected she found an unusual chill on his skin. She remembered how strangely cold his hands had felt to her before.

"When did you last take your tretonin?" she asked urgently.

"Two days," he said shortly.

"Teal'c!"

"I have very little left to ration."

Sam watched him apprehensively. His skin was tinged with grey and his breathing was shallower than normal. He was not in any condition to fight a battle.

"We should have told Paneb that you're ill. He could have kept you out of the pit."

Teal'c looked at her sideways and growled at her. "To what end? This is no illness from which I will recover. If I am of no use to Sisobek I will simply be eliminated."

Sam would have argued, but at that moment the guards opened a cage and pulled several figures from inside it. She looked to see who was coming out, and soon realised that she didn't recognise any of them.

"They're not from the prison," she said in surprise.

Six men emerged into the sunlight, all looking confused and extremely wary. They were dressed in ragged, ordinary clothes, and looked as though they had just been picked up from the street or a field. Dirty linen wraps covered their heads and they all wore frayed papyrus sandals. They didn't look like fighters, but Sam recognised the look of desperate men with little to lose.

Once the six men were all out of the cage the guards closed it again and retreated. They threw down a selection of weapons into the pit: short spears, long daggers, a wooden club and a hand-axe landed in the sand around the fearful men.

Sisobek struck the roof of a cage with his ivory-tipped rod to gain their attention. He spoke loudly so that everyone present could hear him.

"These thieves were caught stealing cattle from the Pharaoh's herds. They have been sentenced to a slow death for their crime." He pointed his rod at Sam and Teal'c. "But if they can take the lives of those two rebels in the pit, they shall escape being hung by their ankles from the palace walls. They shall be freed instead."

To a man the six thieves turned and looked at Sam and Teal'c. For several seconds none of them moved. They simply stared at the challenge which had been set them, then glanced at each other uncertainly.

"Begin!" ordered Sisobek.

The men took in their surroundings quickly, assessing the sheer walls that imprisoned them and the spectators high out of reach on the terrace. Then they focused again on the two prisoners fastened to the post. They hardly seemed eager to fight, but one of them bent and picked up the axe. He took a cautious step towards the tethered prisoners.

Sam took her own axe in her right hand again and spun it slowly a few times, testing its weight. Her breath quickened as the other thieves followed the first man's example and picked up weapons.

"Teal'c," she said quietly, "this could get very ugly."

"Indeed."

The six men approached steadily, fanning out as they drew nearer. Sam and Teal'c readied for an attack, placing themselves shoulder to shoulder with the post at their backs. Sam had little doubt that the captured thieves would try to kill them. Sisobek had given them a hideous choice.

The next instant the man with the axe ran forward with a wild cry and swung at them. Sam dodged a few inches to her right and parried with her shield so that the taut leather took a glancing blow. She didn't have time to bring her axe to bear as the man ran past so she kicked out instead, catching his knee and making him tumble to the sand with the momentum. The bronze shackle bit into her ankle and stopped her from reaching him a second time.

The axe-man scrambled away to safety as the other thieves hovered out of range. They were neither skilled nor co-ordinated, that much was clear. But Sam realised that desperation could make them reckless. If she and Teal'c had not been tethered the outcome would not be in much doubt - they could have defeated the men between them easily. But as things stood one of the thieves might get a lucky blow in.

One of the spear-men hung back and had the sense to kick sand at the tethered prisoners. Sam shook her head and blinked the blinding sand from her eyes in time to see two of them bearing down at the same time, brandishing their weapons. The axe-wielding man targeted Sam again, swinging his weapon high in a strong arc which brought the heavy blade down towards her shoulder. She knew her shield could not take such a strike so she ducked and brought up her own axe instead to deflect it. She felt the blow jarring along the bones of her forearm, but she managed to keep a firm grip on the wooden handle and twisted the attacker's blade aside so that it fell harmlessly. Then she heaved with all her weight behind her shield and knocked her assailant back again.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see the other attacker lunging at Teal'c with a spear. Teal'c side-stepped quickly, dropping his axe so that he could grab the man's weapon and wrench it from his hands. Teal'c spun the spear quickly, but instead of striking back at his immediate attacker he launched it hard from his shoulder. The spear flashed across the pit in the bright sunlight and struck one of the furthest men, embedding itself just above his sternum. The astonished thief clutched the shaft as it protruded from his chest, then slowly crumpled to the sand.

Before his body hit the ground, Teal'c had snatched up his own axe again and struck his nearest attacker in the neck, opening up the jugular artery. The shocked man staggered backwards, crimson blood shooting in several directions between his fingers as he made a futile effort to stop the massive bleeding. Within seconds he too collapsed and lay twitching, his blood soaking the sand in a dark and rapidly widening patch around his corpse.

The four remaining thieves retreated immediately, horrified at the sudden reduction in their numbers. Two of them had to wipe their fallen comrade's blood from their faces so that they could see properly. They hung back well out of range of Sam's and Teal'c's axes.

They might never have found the courage to attack again if Teal'c had not staggered just moments later. Sam spun round to see him falling, his fingers loosening on his weapon so that it thudded to the ground.

"Teal'c!" She tried to shoulder his weight as he swayed beside her.

Teal'c didn't answer. His eyes rolled upwards and his jaw fell slack. Sam saw him trying to regain his balance briefly, but then to her dismay his eyelids closed and he fell sideways, collapsing against her leg and rolling down to the ground behind her, unconscious.

Sam didn't have time to try to rouse him. The remaining thieves saw their chance and ran at her. She tore her shield from her arm and threw it at them, making them flinch and gaining a few seconds. She grabbed Teal'c's fallen axe just in time to face the incoming attackers with both weapons. The man with the remaining spear hurled it at her and she whipped her head to the side to avoid it. She felt the spear-head graze her cheek before hearing it strike the post behind her.

The other three men came at her as one and she whirled both axes to parry their attacks. Her speed kept the two men with daggers at bay, preventing them from getting close enough to thrust the blades effectively, but the axe-wielding man who had already shown the most courage darted in on the right and flanked her. He came in low, aiming at Teal'c instead, and tried to deliver a killing blow to the fallen man's head.

Sam whirled and slashed downwards. She felt her axe slow briefly as it met the firm resistance of bone and sinew, then fall away and land hard in the sand. It took her a moment to realise that she had sliced straight through the man's arm.

The man himself took a second longer to take in what had happened to him. Then he howled, his eyes wide and horrified as he gaped at his axe lying useless on the ground, his severed hand still gripping it.

Sam didn't let herself be distracted. She spun on her heel ready to fight off the other thieves again, but they were already backing away, terrified. Their daggers shook in trembling fists in front of them as they retreated. They were too frightened to risk the hideous injury which had befallen the bravest and most skilled among them.

For a moment Sam considered killing the man still lying near her feet. Then she kicked him hard under the chin instead. His body twisted through the air and his cry was pitiful as he landed. He crawled away whimpering, nursing his bleeding stump against his chest and shaking.

As she watched them cowering from her, Sam wondered what had driven these men to turn to thieving cattle. Were they simply greedy criminals, or were they oppressed men desperate to feed starving families?

She straightened, her feet planted either side of Teal'c who still showed no sign of regaining consciousness. She let the axes hang from her clenched fists, dripping blood on the sand. Her chest rose and fell quickly and the sweat fell in droplets down her face and onto her tunic. She waited, trying to get her breath back.

Ra's voice rang out abruptly above her, speaking in fierce Goa'uld. She didn't understand what he said but there was no mistaking the anger in his tone. The Pharaoh gestured imperiously.

Sam looked up at Sisobek, whose features appeared pinched and uncomfortable. Sam recognised the expression and let herself enjoy the contemptuous sneer that curled her lip spontaneously. The Vizier wore the look of a very embarrassed official.

After a few awkward moments Sisobek pointed at Teal'c with his rod and shouted. "Stand, Nubian!"

Sam didn't to try to wake Teal'c. She knew what was wrong with him, and what he needed: rest, and a full dose of tretonin.

"He can't hear you!" she shouted back to Sisobek. "He has a sickness."

Sisobek's face darkened. He seemed about to order his guards to seize her, but Ra stood up suddenly, his dissatisfaction with the entertainment burning from his eyes. This time Sam understood most of his angry proclamation:

"We will see the Nubian fight again in three days. His performance must be better!"

With that the Goa'uld strode across the terrace and left the arena, his slaves and body-guards hurrying to attend him.

Sisobek glared at Sam and Teal'c. Unable to save face, he signalled dismissively to the Jaffa to clear the pit. They dragged away the bodies and shoved the surviving thieves towards the guards' tunnel – no doubt to the slow death they were promised, Sam thought despondently. The two men Teal'c had despatched quickly were probably the lucky ones.

Two Jaffa levelled their staff-weapons at Sam and ordered her harshly to drop her weapons. She complied, tossing the bloody axes away with disdain. They released her ankle from the post and took her back to the prison, giving her no chance to check Teal'c. She looked back at his still form as they pulled her away and saw one of the guards kick him in the ribs, trying to wake him. Teal'c groaned but didn't move, so two burly Jaffa hauled him up by his shoulders and dragged him back to the compound with no more care than they had hauled out the corpses. They dumped him in his cell and left, muttering curses at the effort required to move him.

As soon as the guards had gone Sam went straight into Teal'c's cell and searched for his tretonin. She found the injector wrapped in a cloth, hidden inside the weave of his belt. She grimaced when she examined it. There was so little of the drug left to give him. Teal'c had been on borrowed time for a while, it seemed.

She gave him half a dose, which was as much as she dared and probably more than he would have chosen to accept. Then she went out to get some water. By the time she returned to his cell a minute later he was awake again.

Sam knelt beside him and helped him raise himself to a sitting position. He accepted some sips from the cup she offered.

"What happened?" he asked.

"We won."

He narrowed his eyes at her.

Sam shrugged. "You killed two of them and collapsed. Ra was pissed and stalked out, so Sisobek's in a foul mood."

"Good," Teal'c growled, and drank some more water.

"I'm sure he'll find a way to take it out on us," said Sam.

"Not if I tear him in two first."

Sam waited a few seconds, then sighed heavily. "We have to make our move soon, Teal'c. Your tretonin is almost gone." She swallowed awkwardly. "And if you can rest after we escape you might not need as much-"

"I will be no better off outside the palace, Colonel," Teal'c interrupted. He kept his gaze fixed on the stone wall opposite. "I will die for want of it out there as surely as in here."

"You're not dead yet, Teal'c."

"No. And I intend to take the enemy with me when I go."

Sam realised there was nothing she could say to deflect the inevitable conclusion to his predicament. Any reassurance she tried to give would just sound trite and insincere. She lowered her head instead and waited to see if he would speak again. She could only imagine how much Teal'c must resent his dependence on the tretonin he needed to maintain his immune system. Despite his plain success at eliminating two of their attackers in the pit so quickly, the former Jaffa would view his subsequent collapse as a fatal weakness.

"Did you kill the other men?" Teal'c asked eventually.

"No. I maimed one. You put the fear of God into them."

He turned his head slowly and looked at her without blinking. "That is precisely what we must combat: others' fear."

Sam nodded her understanding. "Fear of Ra and his cruelty. Fear of Ra's Jaffa and their brutality." She sighed again. "Those men weren't the enemy. They're just more victims."

"The dishonourable make easy pawns," said Teal'c, without pity. "That is why I could never persuade these Jaffa to rebel against Ra. They are without moral courage."

Teal'c straightened and flexed his shoulder muscles. Sam saw how quickly he was recovering. The tretonin she had given him was working fast. His skin was returning to a normal colour and his features set with renewed purpose.

"We shall help the humans to break Ra's hold of fear instead," he said firmly. "Weapons alone will not be enough, but they will help. How much explosive have we acquired?"

Sam did a quick mental calculation. "Probably enough, but I'd like Teye to bring a couple more runs to be on the safe side." She frowned to herself. "The tricky part is getting the mix right and keeping it that way. I know the relative quantities and I have a little leeway, but gunpowder is notorious for separating..."

"Two more days, then," said Teal'c decisively. "Then we must mount our attack."

Sam agreed. "Ra wants to see you fight again in three days. We should move before then."

"Then we must prepare the others."

Sisobek, grand Vizier to his Divine Majesty the God Ra, did not like to appear a fool.

The Vizier's personal power and prestige depended on an image of natural authority, and on a reputation for giving the Pharaoh exactly what he wanted at all times. Failure was not an option.

As Sisobek stood in the shade above the cages at the side of the pit, tapping the ivory tip of his rod against one palm, the Goa'uld reflected on his all too public failure to maintain that reputation yesterday. His idea to pit the recently captured thieves against two of the rebels had seemed an original and sound one at the time. Sisobek had not expected the common criminals to win, but he had hoped for a lengthy, bloody skirmish for his master's entertainment.

The Nubian's unexpected succumbing to sickness was very unfortunate as far as Sisobek was concerned. The Barbarian had held her ground effectively, but the Nubian's early collapse, combined with the cowardly inadequacy of the remaining thieves, resulted in a poor performance. Ra had been disgusted enough to humiliate his Vizier by walking out. That had never happened before.

It would not happen next time, Sisobek resolved as he watched Paneb check over the first selection of prisoners the guards had brought to the pit. He had been tempted to have the physician scourged for his failure to maintain the Nubian's health adequately - someone should take the blame, after all. But Sisobek was no fool. Unlike many of his fellow Goa'uld he did not mistake the unforeseeable for defiance or incompetence in those who served him. He knew he needed Paneb's skills to ensure the success of the next performance. Only the best fighters would be chosen, and it would have to be an unusually bloodthirsty and exciting spectacle to make up for the previous disappointment.

Lions, Sisobek mused silently, his eyes moving from one prisoner to another as they assembled in the bright morning sunshine. The Pharaoh's hunters had brought three new she-lions to Ra's menagerie recently. He would have the guards set them on some of the prisoners. Yes, it would be interesting to see how far humans could defend themselves against goaded, enraged lions.

If only Ra's First Prime would consent to giving him Jaffa warriors to do battle in the pit, Sisobek thought ruefully. The Jaffa were all trained in combat, and their symbiotes gave them much more stamina than these other humans. Unfortunately Sisobek's requests were always denied, and beyond his allowance of warriors to serve as prison guards, Ra's armies were beyond his control. It mattered not that the Vizier was meticulous in his handling of the palace's many facets of daily life. He took responsibility for the management of supplies, accounts and all Ra's comforts and whims, expertly delegating to an army of scribes, bakers, brewers, herdsmen, musicians, dancers, and countless other slaves. All native humans were within his purview, it seemed, but not the Jaffa. They answered to Ra through his First Prime. That was where the real power resided.

Sisobek ground his teeth together. He would have to make sure the prisoners fought each other with vigour instead. Perhaps it would help to make an example of one of them first, to remind them of the unpalatable alternative. The humiliation of the last performance could not be tolerated.

Sisobek nodded to himself silently, his resolve building as he watched the guards order the men below to pair off and face each other with wooden practice daggers. Yes, he decided, a sufficiently terrifying punishment inflicted on one of them today would be worth the loss to encourage the others.

Sisobek hoped that opportunity would present itself as he watched the men below circle each other and begin to spar. The Vizier understood more than most Goa'uld how to control and motivate humans. He had a managerial insight into their hopes and fears, and observed their capacity for empathetic suffering.

Goa'uld did not empathise, no more with their own kind than with those they enslaved. Rarely for a Goa'uld, Sisobek considered this characteristic of his species to be both a strength and a flaw.

He knew that it would not occur to Ra, for example, that humans could be persuaded as much by fear for others as for themselves. The powerful Goa'uld who proclaimed himself a living god, and made both Tau'ri and Jaffa kneel and serve him as one, did not appreciate the awesome power of the bonds that humans forged.

Sisobek recognised those bonds. He knew that a human mother might die from torture before she betrayed her rebel family to a Jaffa patrol; and that she could give up every secret she possessed if a subtler interrogator simply threatened her children's lives. The Vizier also knew that the fear of suffering could be a more powerful tool than the violence it required.

Sisobek narrowed his eyes at one of the prisoners in the pit who had not yet engaged his opponent. The heavily-tattooed man was still circling the Nubian. He made no attempt to find an opening for attack. Sisobek decided to watch the man more closely. If he would be no use in a fight, he might yet provide the gruesome example the Vizier was looking for.

It wasn't that Sisobek didn't share Ra's delight in inflicting pain. He was a typical power-driven Goa'uld, and he relished his power to cause suffering as much as any other kind. Sisobek might resent having to bow to Ra, but he enjoyed the pleasures his position afforded him. To that end he was a loyal servant of his lord.

Of course, should Apophis or any other Goa'uld defeat Ra, Sisobek would serve him as readily as he did the Pharaoh. There were no bonds of love and loyalty between Goa'uld - at least none that compared to those the humans shared.

The tattooed man was backing away from the Nubian, his wooden dagger extended in a futile attempt to convince an on-looker that he intended to strike or defend. Every time the Nubian advanced the man scuttled backwards, dodging behind other prisoners to avoid contact.

Sisobek wasn't fooled. He rapped the cage at his feet hard with his rod. "You!" he shouted angrily, pointing at him. "Fight!"

The tattooed man looked up at the Vizier, startled. Sisobek felt a familiar warmth at the look of fear in the man's eyes. He sneered down at the human. "Attack, coward, or die!"

The man trembled and glanced at his Nubian opponent. The other prisoners paused to watch but Sisobek was content to allow it. He wanted them to focus on the man he intended to be a fearful example to them all. As Sisobek expected, the tattooed man made a brief effort to hold his ground when the Nubian advanced, but the moment his opponent moved to strike him – half-hearted though his attack was – he ducked again and scrambled away. It was a feeble dodge, Sisobek noted. The man simply dropped to the ground, like a cowed animal trying to make itself small to deflect aggression. Sisobek realised that if the Nubian had wanted to he could have killed him with his bare hands, but instead the big dark human struck him with his fist, knocking him onto his back.

It was enough. Sisobek signalled to the guards. "Hold him down!"

Two Jaffa broke away from the warriors standing guard and placed their heavy boots on the fallen man's arms. He struggled under their weight and emitted a pitiful cry.

Sisobek had a flash of inspiration: he would make the man's opponent do it. With a double lesson in obedience, none of the humans would dare to disappoint next time. He pointed to the Nubian with his rod. "And give that prisoner a real weapon."

Sisobek did not have to order the Jaffa to maintain an extra guard on the Nubian as one of them passed him a small bronze dagger. Several staff-weapons powered up and lowered towards the armed prisoner. The Nubian raised his head and looked straight at the Vizier as he accepted the blade, his dark eyes challenging.

Sisobek pointed down again at the tattooed man with his rod, and raised his voice to make it clear that he was addressing all the prisoners present. "That coward lying at your feet shall pay the price for his disobedience. Any among you who do not fight well for your god shall suffer the same fate." He looked at the Nubian again. "You! Cut out the coward's eyes and tongue."

Sisobek drew satisfaction from the horrified murmur which rippled through the men in the pit. It was the reaction he wanted from them, as was the cry and look of sheer terror from the prisoner pinned to the sand. The tattooed man twisted, trying to escape the guards holding him down. His face was a mask of anguish and fear.

It wasn't until Sisobek realised that he was still waiting that he noticed the other prisoner had not moved. The Vizier switched his attention to the Nubian, who still stood glaring up at him. He saw anger simmering in the dark features, and felt his own impatience beginning to burn behind his eyes. "Now, Nubian!" he insisted.

The dark man's mouth turned down in an expression that conveyed revulsion and defiance. His voice was deep and strong when he spoke.

"I am not a Nubian."

Sisobek felt the fury kindle within him. His skin began to warm and tingle with a rage that built quickly at the prisoner's insolence. "Do it!" he hissed fiercely. "Cut out his eyes and tongue. I command it!"

The Nubian's tone grew contemptuous. "I will not," he said forcefully. "I have fought to the death because I had no choice, but I will not torture this man for your amusement!"

Sisobek's wrath boiled close to the surface. How dare this human defy him so openly? But he refused to be wrong-footed in front of so many on-lookers. He would have to find a way to deal with the Nubian afterwards, but he still had to make an example of the other man.

"Jaffa!" Sisobek shouted, pointing at the fallen man again. "Cut out the coward's eyes and tongue, then hang him from the rope by his ankles!"

The two guards pinning the tattooed man bent down immediately to do his bidding, but before they could begin their grisly task the Nubian's blade flashed between them. For a moment Sisobek thought that the armed prisoner was attacking the Jaffa – a move which would cost him his life in the next second - but then he saw where the dagger had gone. The Nubian had plunged it into the tattooed man's heart.

There was no mistaking the flicker of gratitude in the dying man's face. He knew he had been spared an agonising fate.

Sisobek gasped, his mouth opening in frustrated fury. He had been out-manoeuvred after all.

As the tattooed man's eyes glazed over in quick, near-painless death, Sisobek finally lost his temper. His voice was an inhuman roar as he pointed at the disobedient Nubian and ordered the guards to seize him. "Scourge him!" he shrieked. "Scourge him!"

Four Jaffa clubbed the Nubian to the ground. He fought back swiftly, taking one down and grasping at his falling staff-weapon, but then a fifth guard fired a zat'ni'katel at his back. He went down in a flash of crackling blue energy and lay still.

Suddenly Paneb darted forward into the middle of the pit, his hands raised in supplication. "My lord Sisobek!" he called urgently.

Sisobek turned and glowered at him. "What is it?" he hissed, angry at the interruption.

"Forgive me!" the physician continued quickly. "My lord Ra decreed that this man fight in the pit two days from now. If he is punished in this manner he will not recover in time, and my lord Ra will be angry."

Sisobek hesitated. The physician was right. A requirement of the next performance was the Nubian's participation. Ra had singled him out yesterday, and it would not do to anger the Pharaoh again.

Yet the Vizier had to assert his authority somehow. He could not allow his plan to make an example of the other prisoner backfire now. His mind raced as he sought a face-saving solution to his dilemma.

Then Sisobek remembered the yellow-haired Barbarian, and the bond he had noticed between the two humans. He recalled how the Nubian had shown his concern for her when she faced the Nile beast, shouting a warning to her from the cages in a foreign tongue. He also remembered how quickly the Nubian had risen to defend her when Ra summoned her from the prison, and how fiercely she had protected his life while he lay unconscious in the pit yesterday. The Goa'uld realised, with a slow smile, that they were important to each other. He knew he had his answer.

"Very well," he said calmly, his anger subsiding and a pleasant anticipation building in its wake. He addressed the guards again. "Chain him to a post," he ordered smugly, "and make him watch while you scourge the Barbarian."

"What have I done?" Sam cried.

At first she thought the Jaffa had discovered the gunpowder. They strode into the quad and seized her without explanation, and Sam feared that someone had betrayed their plan. Then as the guards twisted her arms painfully behind her back and marched her out of the compound, she realised that no one was searching the cells where the bags of powder were hidden. She breathed again.

Her relief did not last long. Her apprehension grew as she stumbled down the dim passage and emerged into the bright heat of the pit. Blinking and confused, she looked up and saw that the terrace was empty. Whatever she was here for, this time there was no royal audience.

As the guards pushed her forward Sam looked around and saw that the dozen prisoners who had been taken from the compound earlier were all locked in the cages. Their anxious faces were pressed close to the bars, and her blood ran cold when she realised how worried they were.

The guards pulled her tunic roughly down from her shoulders and shoved her against one of the posts. They pulled her arms around it, forcing her to hug the thick timber, and passed a rope through the ring on the far side to secure her wrists. Sam winced as the post dug into her ribs when the rope tightened. The sun-baked wood felt hot against her exposed skin.

Sisobek appeared on her right. The Goa'uld had come down into the pit and now he took up a position a few feet away. He observed her with a look of smug cruelty which promised something deeply unpleasant.

Sam's eyes darted ahead as a third guard approached. He had removed the armour from his upper body and he carried a short black whip. Its menacing tails glinted in the sun, and Sam saw that small splinters of bone and fragments of sharp obsidian were woven into the leather braids. It was a vicious weapon.

Her stomach twisted and her mouth went dry as she realised what was about to happen. "Oh God no..."

Sisobek's thin lips twisted into a vile smile. His sinister delight at her fear was tangible.

"Why?" gasped Sam. "What did I do? Why am I being punished?"

Sisobek gloated but didn't reply, enjoying her confusion.

"You did nothing."

It was Paneb who had spoken. He stood by the wall on Sam's left, unable to meet her eyes when she looked at him. Teye was standing next to him, her stony expression unreadable.

Paneb pointed, the shame in his voice apparent. "This is his punishment."

Sam looked over the rim of the post and a bitter lump formed in her throat. Teal'c was standing near the far end of the pit, watching. A heavy collar was fastened around his neck, chaining him to the other post. Sam had never seen him look so angry, or so anguished.

Teal'c shouted his fury at Sisobek. "The offence was mine! It is I who should be punished!"

"And so you are," said Sisobek with a self-satisfied leer.

Sam struggled instinctively as the guard with the whip moved behind her. Sisobek's brand of cruelty shocked her. The Vizier's threats had prepared her for the possibility of torture, but she had not anticipated his aptitude for psychological torment.

The rope held her secure and helpless. Sam closed her eyes, trying to spare Teal'c the fear she knew he would see there, and braced herself for the inevitable pain.

Her resolve not to scream broke under the first stroke. The pain was even worse than she anticipated. The harsh leather tails bit like vipers, but the shards of bone and obsidian caused the most damage. They tore into her skin mercilessly. Agony flared across her shoulders, and she felt the warmth of her blood seep to the surface and begin trickling down her back. Her eyes flew open as she sucked in air and tried to breathe through the terrible pain. When the second stroke fell she couldn't scream. The whip drove her hard against the post, knocking the air from her lungs. Her knees buckled.

Sam had endured torture before. She knew what fierce pain a Goa'uld ribbon-device could inflict, having felt Osiris deliver the hate-filled energy into her brain. She had also suffered a similar and prolonged torture at Fifth's vengeful hands.

This pain was so raw. Sam almost retched at its brutal intensity. She forced herself to take her weight on her feet again, and the gruesome image of Sen-mut's lacerated shoulders flashed through her mind. She realised now how such injuries had been inflicted. As the third stroke fell and its vicious burn built on the severity of the others, driving another agonised cry from her throat, Sam realised that such a beating might kill her too...

"Teye," said Paneb quietly, "am I not a good man?"

Teye hardly heard her uncle's question. Her eyes were on the Barbarian, whose agonized scream rang in her ears as she suffered only a few paces in front of her.

Teye glanced up at Paneb. "Yes, Uncle," she said softly. "Of course you are a good man."

The whip cracked against flesh and the woman Teye had come to know as Sam screamed again. Teye flinched and swallowed.

"Do I not serve my master well?" asked Paneb, in the same subdued tone.

Teye frowned. Her uncle's questions were strange and incongruous. "Yes, you are very diligent."

The guard wielded his scourge again and Sam staggered under its brutal assault. A hoarse cry forced its way between her gritted teeth. Teye tasted bile at the back of her throat.

"Do I cheat him?" asked Paneb. "Do I steal the food meant for the Pharaoh's prisoners and barter it for my own profit?"

Teye stared at her uncle, truly puzzled now. "No," she assured him. "You are an honest man."

"Then why do I fear the after-life?"

Teye took a deep breath as Sam cried out under the lash again. The Barbarian writhed at the post, her fingers clawing at the wood as the cruel barbs bit into her flesh. Dark blood ran down over fresh welts and brightened in the hot air, streaking her back with pale red and crimson.

Now Teye understood her uncle's self-absorbed questions. "It is wrong to punish the innocent," she told him simply.

"Yes," said Paneb, his voice tight with self-recrimination. "And I fear my heart will weigh heavier than the feather."

Teye looked at her uncle with pity. This was not his fault, she knew, but she also knew that to tolerate injustice was to condone it. Recently she had come to learn that injustice under Ra's rule was not an anomaly. It was intrinsic.

Teye's eyes fell once more on the Barbarian who was being so unjustly punished in the not-Nubian's stead. She could see from the perpetual anguish on Sam's face that the pain must be excruciating. Sam's legs gave way again and she hung by her wrists through several blows until she managed to regain her footing. As another stroke cracked on her shoulders her head fell back and she cried words in a tongue which Teye didn't understand. The girl thought she must be calling upon her people's gods to deliver her from such a bitter torment.

Teye looked around the pit as Sam's cries of pain echoed off its grim walls. The other prisoners were watching from the cages, their anger and fraught compassion evident in their faces. Sisobek was also watching, his relish so removed from anything Teye recognised as human that it almost made her vomit. She glanced at her uncle again, wondering what this despicable spectacle was doing to him, and that was when she realised that he wasn't watching the brutality in front of him after all. Instead, Paneb was looking at the not-Nubian. He was watching Teal'c.

Teye followed the direction of her uncle's gaze and inhaled sharply. Teal'c's rage and desperation were silent now, but far from inactive. His bare feet were planted against the post and his fists were wrapped around the chain attached to his collar. Teal'c hauled on it with immense force, wrenching at the chain with powerful jerks of his muscular limbs. Every cry of pain from Sam stoked his furious efforts, and Teye saw with widening eyes that those efforts were not in vain. The bronze ring was gradually coming away from the post. The bolt that held it to the solid wood was loosening.

Teye's heart seemed to leap from her chest and catch in her throat. No one else had noticed, she realised. Everyone else present, including the guards, was watching the Barbarian suffer. Only she and her uncle saw what the not-Nubian was doing.

As the timber around the bolt began to splinter, Teye felt slight movement by her right arm. Paneb pressed the flat side of his tiny physician's scalpel against her hand and whispered:

"When the chance comes, free her."

Teye palmed the subtle blade. Her heart began to beat quickly...

Sam heard the energy from a staff-weapon impact behind her, and something heavy thudded to the sand. She was so consumed with pain, and with the tortuous effort to stay on her feet, that she didn't realise what she had heard until she smelled the burned flesh as well. She blinked stinging salt from her eyes, aware that the whip was no longer falling, and tried to make sense of the noise and confusion around her.

Teal'c was firing the staff-weapon. Three Jaffa were already lying dead on the ground and she saw another collapse under a perfectly aimed blast. Teal'c sprinted across the pit, making himself an elusive target while spinning the staff-weapon expertly. He fired again, dropping the last two guards in rapid succession before they could secure their aim to shoot him.

Sam's hands sprang away from the post and she staggered backwards. She would have fallen over the body lying behind her if Teye hadn't caught her by a flailing arm. The girl had cut the rope, she realised.

Sisobek!

Sam spun around, a furious adrenalin roaring through her veins, fired by the pain that scorched her back and shoulders. Her anger fed on the agony, lending her limbs a strength and speed which defied the torture she had just gone through.

Sisobek was in full flight across the pit, trying to reach the guards' entrance. Sam sped after him and launched herself at his legs. She slammed into him and tackled him to the ground. The Vizier rolled, trying to throw her off, but Sam rolled with him and heaved him over again. She felt sand stick to the bloody wounds on her back but she ignored the pain. Sisobek was going to pay.

One end of the rope was still tied tightly round her wrist. As Sam landed hard on Sisobek's back she wrapped the other end round her fist and twisted the rough cord over his head. As it settled over his neck she pulled on it hard, choking him.

Sisobek struggled franticly. His panic made him strong but uncoordinated, and Sam increased the pressure as he squirmed beneath her. She couldn't see his face but she visualised his bulging eyes and protruding tongue. She caught movement in her peripheral vision and looked down to see his hand moving feverishly towards a dagger on his belt. As his desperate fingers clawed around the hilt she brought up her heel and ground his wrist into the sand. A knee in his back pinned him down as the rope completed its lethal work on his windpipe.

Suddenly Sam saw the flesh at the back of Sisobek's neck undulate. In an instant she recognised what was happening. The Goa'uld parasite knew its host was doomed and was trying to escape. Seconds later she saw the symbiote's head emerge from the man's open mouth. It squirmed vigorously, dragging itself clear of the tightening rope, and shot out across the pit.

Sam grabbed the dagger and leapt after it. The Goa'uld slithered rapidly over the sand, trapped by the pit's high walls, and sped around like a wild eel. Sam knew it was searching for another human host to infest and control. She threw herself after it, determined to kill her vile tormentor. The Goa'uld spun around with incredible speed as she landed and launched itself straight at her, aiming for her throat. Her hand shot out and grabbed it just before it reached her.

Sam gripped Sisobek's slippery body around the neck as it tried to break her hold. The snake-like creature writhed fiercely and its hideous mouth opened wide, hissing and reaching for her. She felt its powerful muscles pulsate and surge as it tried to wrench itself from her grasp, but she hung on to it and scrambled towards the post where the Jaffa had whipped her. She skidded to her knees in the blood-flecked sand and shoved the Goa'uld hard against the post, holding it firm. Then she raised the dagger above her shoulder and stabbed it with all her strength. The sharp point slammed into the alien's squirming flesh and skewered it.

"That savage enough for you?" she snarled.

Sisobek's hideous screech of pain was like music to her ears. The dagger had pierced the creature's flesh close to the spine, but not killed it. The Goa'uld thrashed and spat but couldn't tear itself free.

Sam smiled at her handiwork. She had crucified the evil thing.

A thin figure staggered into view and fell beside her. The host had survived. The man who Sam had just released from captivity inside his own body shuddered next to her in the sand. Blood dripped from his mouth and his limbs shook, but his eyes were remarkably clear. He held a dead guard's knife in his trembling hand.

"Demon!" he croaked at the parasite which had just left his body. Then he slashed at Sisobek with the heavy blade, severing the creature's tail.

Thick blue blood spurted from the tormented Goa'uld as it screamed again. Sam looked into Sisobek's alien eyes and saw horror and terror there. She kept right on looking as the man it had inhabited slashed again to take another vindictive but non-fatal slice from the snake's twisting form. Then he slashed downwards along the length of its trapped body, again and again, filleting the grey flesh from the bone. Its sticky blood drenched the post beneath it and foul pieces piled onto the soaked sand.

Finally Sisobek's agonized writhing slowed. The Goa'uld twitched a few times, and died.

The man that had been the Vizier let his blood-stained arm fall and he looked at Sam. His lips hardly moved as he spoke through bruised vocal chords:

"Thank you for giving me my revenge."

A wave of dizziness swept over Sam as her ordeal caught up with her. She placed her hands on the ground and willed the pit to stop spinning. Her wrists hurt and her back was raw.

She became aware that Teal'c was opening the cages and releasing the men inside. More prisoners emerged from the compound, led by Paneb. Teye was collecting weapons from the dead Jaffa and distributing them.

Teal'c approached. Sam heard his voice rise above the others. She looked up to see him pointing at Sisobek's messy corpse with a staff-weapon.

"See? Ra is not a god! A creature such as this infests the body of a boy. Ra is just a parasite, and like this one he can be slain!"

The prisoners stared, some of them open-mouthed in shock, others with long held suspicions confirmed.

"Is that thing Sisobek?" asked Nenufer, disgusted.

"It is," said Teal'c. He pointed to the former host. "This man was his unwilling prisoner."

The dark woman with the tribal scars kicked at the gory mess with a bare toe. "He is free of this demon," she confirmed.

"Get the gunpowder!" Sam said urgently. "This is our chance to break into the armoury."

Ramose mustered a detail quickly to fetch the bags of powder from the cells.

"Can he not help us?" asked Teye, pointing to Sisobek's former host. "The guards don't know that he is free."

"No," said Teal'c. "The Jaffa answer to their First Prime. Were the Vizier to ask him to open the armoury, he would suspect a coup against Ra."

Sam thought the man was in no shape to fool the guards anyway. He was spitting blood from the tear in his throat where the Goa'uld had ripped itself free, and without the symbiote's rapid healing abilities he would not recover soon. She watched him struggle to his feet and brandish the knife again.

"I can slit throats," he gasped, determined.

His courage was an example to the other prisoners – one they all followed, including those who had not been captured as rebels. Their murmured enthusiasm for an attack was encouraging.

Sam stood up too, wincing. "We need to hold the corridor beside the armoury and eliminate the guards there."

Paneb hurried to her side. "I must dress your wounds first."

"There's no time," Sam protested.

"We'll make time to clean them," Paneb said grimly. He barked orders. "Teye, fetch the bag." He signalled to Teal'c. "Hold her!"

Teal'c discarded his staff-weapon. Before Sam realised what was happening he had seized her forearms and twisted, dropping to his knees and pulling her down over his back. Sam gasped at the sudden movement and grimaced, and then she felt the surprising chill from Teal'c's body. His skin was clammy against her arms and chest.

Paneb poured something from a jar onto Sam's shoulders. She cried out as liquid fire swept across her back. Her eyes watered and she struggled against Teal'c's hold. Teye dropped beside her as Teal'c tightened his grip on her arms. The girl pressed her lips to Sam's ear and spoke gently.

"It won't last long, and then he will put on something to soothe the pain."

The burn of the astringent subsided and Paneb applied ointment quickly. There wasn't enough time to put on dressings so Teal'c released her and helped her pull her blood-stained tunic back up to protect her skin. He reached for his staff-weapon again, and Sam saw the effort it took him to move.

"Teal'c?" she whispered, deeply concerned.

"I have no more tretonin. We must hurry."

The bags of gunpowder were already tied in pairs. Ramose and several other prisoners gathered them over their shoulders and made for the guards' entrance. Sam took a zat from the body of a Jaffa and ran ahead. She called back to the others. "Keep the powder away from flame and weapons' fire!"

Nenufer joined Sam and they took point together, turning to guard each other's backs as they advanced rapidly up stone steps and around corners. As they reached the next level of the palace they encountered their first opposition. Two sentries broke away from a wall to challenge them. Nenufer's first blast with a staff-weapon caught one in the legs and he dropped with a howl of pain. Sam felled the other with a shot from her zat, then killed the man who was writhing on the floor. She fired again to finish off the unconscious one and ran forward to take the next corner.

Sam knew there were at least two more permanent guard posts between them and the armoury, and an unknown number of Jaffa could be on patrol. Speed and surprise were their most potent weapons. She glanced back and saw that Teal'c, who normally would have been right behind her, covering her six, was several paces back with the other armed prisoners. It became clear to her just how much his extraordinary effort to free himself had accelerated his fatigue.

And he's not going to get any stronger.

He caught up with her and Nenufer. "Are you going to make it?" she asked.

Teal'c's breath came rapid and shallow. "I can hold a position," he told her.

His realistic assessment was not lost on her. If Teal'c was admitting that he couldn't cover ground he must be at the limits of his strength. She nodded quickly. "Okay. We'll take out the guard-room and blow the armoury. Once we have the weapons, you hold this end of the corridor which goes past the main courtyard. I'll go ahead and secure the footbridge. That will give the others a clear run."

"We can trust Nenufer and Ramose to take the rebellion to Ra," said Teal'c in a strained voice. "There are hundreds of slaves in this palace. Many will join them, and none will oppose them."

"Have you two finished prattling?" Nenufer demanded. Their incomprehensible discussion had got the better of her patience.

Sam pointed her zat decisively. "Go!"

They made their way quickly through the next few rooms, their bare feet silent on the cool tiles. They took out the next sentry position easily, but before they had covered half the distance a small patrol of Jaffa engaged them in a rapid fire-fight. Sam ducked behind a pillar and picked off two guards with her zat while Teal'c and Nenufer felled three more between them, but the other guards took cover and began blasting their position.

The prisoners were pinned down, and Sam realised that they would lose their advantage of surprise if they didn't deal with the rest of the patrol soon. Under cover of the staff-blasts she scooted to the side and circled around more pillars, out-flanking the Jaffa position. She pressed herself close to the floor and began firing her zat at them. Taking fire from two directions, the guards paused to find extra cover. Nenufer and two other prisoners seized their chance and ran forward, blasting away with their staff-weapons. One of the prisoners took an enemy shot in the chest and went down, but another prisoner raced up behind him and picked up his weapon. Half a minute later the remaining Jaffa lay dead.

Sam dashed ahead again, fearing the noise of the fire-fight had warned the sentries up ahead of their approach. She was right. The post was deserted.

"They've gone ahead to warn the Jaffa in the guard-room," she told the others as they caught up with her. "This won't be easy."

"Then we hurry!" grunted Teal'c, hefting his staff-weapon.

Sam glanced back to make sure that Ramose and his group were still behind her. They emerged from cover a moment later, the precious bags of gunpowder still safe. Ramose nodded silently to acknowledge her signal to follow with caution.

"Are we winning?" asked Teye.

Sam twisted to find the girl had crept up beside her. She held a zat in her fist and her eyes were wide with excitement.

"We're not losing," said Sam. "Keep a look-out, Teye. Shout if you see any guards coming up behind us."

"I will shoot and shout, Sam."

A sudden burst of weapons' fire up ahead made Sam spin and run forward again. She found Teal'c and the other prisoners crouched where the room intersected a wide corridor. Blasts of energy scorched the stone walls, filling the air with sparks and acrid smoke. The prisoners were returning fire.

"We have eight of them pinned down in the guard-room!" Teal'c shouted over the din. "They are holding it well. We can not get closer!"

"We have to!" shouted Sam. "We must clear the room so we can set the gunpowder." She fired several times over their heads, seeing the energy from her zat crackle along the walls of the guard-room. Through the confusion of armour and smoke and flame she glimpsed a bronze-studded door at the rear.

Teal'c pulled back suddenly and stood up. He gave his staff-weapon to an unarmed prisoner, who quickly took his place and began firing. "Even if we manage to kill them, this will take too long. More guards will come soon." He retreated, bracing his hand on the wall for balance, and met Ramose. "Give it to me," he ordered. "All of it."

Ramose and the others handed over the sacks of gunpowder. Teal'c hung the strung bags around his broad neck and shoulders, one pair after another. He sagged under their weight.

Sam guessed his intention and her eyes widened.

"Should I target the door itself?" he asked grimly as he heaved himself the few paces back to the corridor.

Sam's voice rose in dismay. "Teal'c! I was planning to lay a fuse! Don't-"

"Should I?" he repeated fiercely.

"Yes, but-"

"Then tell them to lay down cover."

Sam's jaw set. She grabbed his arm. "I won't let you-"

Teal'c spun and wrenched free of her grip, pushing her away hard. "Obey me!" he roared.

If he had been at his full strength his shove would have sent Sam flying across the room. Instead she fell and skidded on her side along the tiles. She looked up at him in shock. His body trembled with exhaustion but his eyes blazed. The one time First Prime of Apophis glared down at her.

"I am dying," he said, his tone something between a command and a plea. Then his eyes softened. He took a deep breath and spoke in a more formal voice. "It has been an honour to serve with you, Colonel Carter."

Sam scrambled up as he turned away. She followed him to the corner, knowing she couldn't stop him, knowing he was telling the truth. "Lay down covering fire!" she yelled to the prisoners. "Keep high and to the sides!"

Their staff-weapons thudded as they obeyed. Sam added to the barrage with her zat, aiming so that the blue energy leapt across the high ceiling and crackled into the room where the Jaffa were holding their ground. Teal'c charged into the corridor, his powerful legs breaking into a sprint with the last of his strength.

"The lock or the hinges!" Sam yelled after him.

Teal'c pounded through the smoke and barrelled his way straight into the guard-room. She saw his bulky, fading silhouette disappear in the fiery haze. "Take cover!" she ordered.

The prisoners scrambled back behind the walls. A second later a bright flash lit up the room. The corridor exploded.

In other circumstances Sam would have felt pride at the success of her gunpowder blend. The palace walls shook around them. She ducked, burying her head under her arms, and felt the blast of hot air compress past her. She kept her mouth tightly sealed, waiting to draw breath again. Then lumps of rubble and smaller debris crashed around the corner, some ricocheting off the walls and scattering into the room where they were hidden. She felt small pieces hit her hands and arms and she crouched lower to ride out the shrapnel. When she raised her head again a thick cloud of dust obscured her view of the corridor.

She checked her team. They were dazed but uninjured. Unlike her they were not used to the noise and aftermath of an explosion, and she knew she couldn't afford to let them dwell on it. "Come on!" she encouraged. "The armoury!"

They stumbled through the swirling dust over debris that littered the corridor. Sam checked for surviving Jaffa, but the gunpowder's effect in the confines of the guard-room had been devastating. Broken weapons and torn limbs in bloodied, twisted armour lay in the rubble, turning pale grey as stony shrapnel and fine dust settled on them.

Sam didn't try to look for Teal'c. She knew there would be nothing of him there she wanted to see. The solid door to the armoury lay scorched at a precarious angle on the floor, its hinges torn away. She climbed over it into a large chamber beyond, where the array of Goa'uld weapons almost took her breath away. The arsenal was big enough to arm three hundred rebels.

Sam detailed Ramose to organise a human chain and collect as many zats and staff-weapons as possible. She ordered six men to stay to secure the area around the guard-room, then took Nenufer and eight other prisoners further up the corridor. It wasn't until she found herself running fast against the wall, her ears still ringing from the explosion, that she realised that the dust coating her cheeks was streaked with salty tears.

Sam wiped her eyes hard. She needed them clear.

They almost made it to the footbridge over the moat before the inevitable reinforcements arrived. They didn't have time to find cover. A troop of warriors ran into them where the corridor met the wooden planks and they broke into hand-to-hand combat.

Sam's roundhouse kick knocked the weapon from the gauntlets of the first Jaffa who attacked her. His heavy boot caught the back of her leg and pulled her to the floor, from where she brought up her zat and shot him. She had to roll to avoid being pinned under his falling bulk.

Unable to use her zat effectively at close quarters, Sam broke away to the bridge and began to take down the enemy from some distance. Several fell under her fire before their commander realised who was responsible for picking them off. He whirled and charged at her.

Sam saw the glint of yellow on his forehead when he hit her and she recognised the gold tattoo of Ra's First Prime. As she crashed back against the bridge's wooden parapet the zat was knocked back from her hand and fell through to the water below. She twisted down fast to dodge the blow he aimed at her head and his staff-weapon struck the parapet instead, splintering it. Sam grabbed the weapon with both hands and swung all her weight on it, hauling the Jaffa down as she fell and kicking him in the midriff with both feet as hard as she could.

She heard him grunt as the air left his lungs and his grip loosened on the staff-weapon. She wrenched it free of his fists as they both landed hard and the staff spun away from them, clattering towards the middle of the bridge. The Jaffa landed on top of her and Sam cried out in pain as her injured back ground into the rough planks. She brought up her elbow and hit him hard in the jaw, unbalancing him.

A strange, cold sensation penetrated her right side as his weight slid off her body. She ignored it and kicked again, her bare feet connecting with the solid armour on his chest. He smashed against the parapet, flailing, and the damaged wood gave way. As he fell backwards through the broken timber Sam saw his mailed fingers scrabbling to hold on. She drove her heel into his hand and he fell from the bridge with an angry, disbelieving cry.

Sam rolled over quickly to make sure the big Jaffa hit the water. The splash reached her and she shook droplets from her hair. He sank for a few moments, then reappeared, splashing on the murky surface. His heavy armour weighed him down but he began swimming, his strokes laboured.

Sam caught sight of swifter movement in the shallows and saw something long and agile glide through the moat towards him. A rough, ugly snout rose quickly above the surface and sharp teeth gleamed. The crocodile's fearsome jaws closed around the Jaffa with a thrashing splash and dragged him under. Ra's First Prime disappeared with a terrified shout that turned into a pitiful gurgle. He didn't resurface.

Sam got to her feet and promptly fell to her knees again as a sharp pain lanced through her side. She gasped and clutched her right side below her ribs, feeling a wet stickiness against her hand. She looked down and saw the Jaffa's dagger lying on the bridge, her blood coating its blade. She swallowed and fought back the wave of dizziness and nausea which threatened to cripple her.

"Sam?"

Teye crouched beside her, holding her carefully by the arms.

Sam looked up anxiously, concerned for the girl's safety, but saw that the prisoners had won this skirmish. They were already taking up positions to defend the bridge and its approaches.

"You've been stabbed," said Teye, and her face drained of colour.

Sam forced down the pain. "How many casualties have we taken?"

"I've seen four," said Teye. She pulled some folded linen from the waistband of her kilt and pressed it to Sam's side, trying to staunch the blood.

Sam didn't know whether that figure included Teal'c. She didn't ask. Instead she indicated the far side of the bridge. "We have to secure an escape route."

"Nenufer has already taken some men ahead. We are winning now, Sam."

Sam stood up, gasping, and Teye took some of her weight on her slim shoulder. The girl picked up the First Prime's staff weapon and handed it to her so that Sam could use it to brace herself.

"Can you walk?" asked Teye.

"You bet," Sam grunted.

They crossed the bridge quickly. Sam heard weapons' fire in the distance, and a stream of armed prisoners ran past them. The revolt was gathering pace around her.

"My uncle has gone to the slave quarters to recruit them," said Teye. "They trust him. He will be successful."

They hurried on, following the path through the palace that Sam recognised from the day of her capture. They stepped over corpses and Teye brandished her zat in front of them, ready to fire, but the way had been cleared. When Sam staggered Teye helped her to a pillar and she sank to the floor with her back against it.

Suddenly a strange, blood-curdling noise echoed through the halls and corridors. It sounded as though wild animals were roaming through the far reaches of the palace. The eerie roars and howls mixed with the terrorized screams of men.

"What is that?" asked Sam.

"Msawa released the beasts from Ra's menagerie," said Teye. "She commands the big cats to turn on their tormentors."

Everyone's getting their revenge today, thought Sam. Then her brow furrowed.

"Msawa?"

Teye drew a symmetrical pattern over her cheeks with her fingers, mimicking the dark woman's tribal scars. She grinned proudly. "A witch doesn't reveal her name to just anyone, you know."

Sam realised that she wasn't going to get much further on foot. An idea came to her.

"Teye, there is an animal in the menagerie called a horse – it's like a donkey but bigger-"

"You can ride it out of here!" Teye interrupted brightly, leaping to her feet. "I know the animal, and it knows me. I always bring it treats when I collect its dung for the composts."

Before Sam could tell her to be careful Teye sped away down the nearest passage to fetch it. Sam stared after her, marvelling at the girl's enthusiasm. "You'll need to learn to wait for orders," she whispered wryly, a smile rising on her lips despite her pain and weariness. Then she braced the staff-weapon across her legs ready to fire it, just in case.

Sam watched a near-full moon rise in the cloudless sky. It bathed the twilight desert in a soft, golden light and cast long, undulating shadows.

A harvest moon? Sam wondered. Her thoughts drifted. The pain was receding.

The horse snorted a few feet away. Sam turned to look beyond it and watched a fiery glow burn higher against the darkening horizon. Even from this distance she could hear the sounds of battle, faint and strangely musical.

Sam had wanted to join it, but when she slumped precariously on the horse's back Teye slid to the ground behind her and coaxed her down. The girl was insistent.

Sam glanced at the resting horse. Was it looking at her? She smirked gently. "You're not supposed to be here, you know? Daniel says so."

The horse snorted again, as if to remind her that she wasn't supposed to be here either.

Teye's slender silhouette appeared in the distance against the red-orange glow. The girl was returning, her head bobbing up and down as she trotted across the sand. Sam waited until Teye was close enough to hear her, then called out to guide her back to their position.

Teye arrived a few minutes later. She knelt down next to Sam, breathless, and placed a water-skin to her lips. Sam let her head fall back against the dune and drank gratefully.

"Ra has fled his palace," said Teye. "He retreats to his pyramid with his Jaffa."

Sam smiled. "That's excellent news." The Goa'uld must be in trouble if he was holing up in his ship; and with his First Prime gone, Ra's army would not be as effective.

Teye nodded happily. "Thousands of men and women have joined the rebels. There are no Jaffa left in Memphis. The weapons you liberated are being put to good use."

"The weapons we liberated," Sam reminded her.

It was working, Sam realised with satisfaction. Given the opportunity and the tools to do the job, the human revolt had the Goa'uld on the run.

"They say Ra will leave our world," Teye added, "...if he escapes with his life."

Sam smiled at her. "You have much to look forward to."

Teye grinned back, her youthful features alight with hope. "And I saw your kinswoman among the rebels!"

Sam frowned, puzzled. "My kinswoman?"

Teye nodded emphatically. "She must be. She looks exactly like you – with hair like the sun's rays when it is high in the sky. She is your sister, surely? I saw her among the rebels who chased Ra to his pyramid."

Sam gazed into Teye's eyes. The girl was convinced of her words. If it were true it could mean only one thing: SG-1 were out there.

They had come back again.

Sam looked up at the night sky. The broad disc of the Milky Way stretched above her. "Teye," she said softly, "do you see all those stars?"

She heard the smile in Teye's reply. "That's the celestial Nile, Sam."

Sam returned the smile. "And every one of those stars is a sun."

Teye was silent for a while, and Sam guessed she was processing this strange information.

"Do those suns have worlds like ours?"

"Yes, and I have been to many of those worlds."

Sam couldn't tell whether Teye grinned at her in delight at this astonishing revelation, or to indulge what she thought was Sam's blood-loss induced delusion. After a few moments Teye's expression faltered. The girl looked down at the drenched linen that was no longer effective against Sam's side. The wound was bleeding steadily.

"Sam, this blood is blackened. It comes from your liver. I can't..."

"I know."

She was tired. She blinked a few times to clear her vision and lifted arms that felt heavy. Her fingers were slow as they tugged at the chain behind her neck to loosen her dog-tags. Teye saw what she was trying to do and moved quickly to help her.

Sam pressed the smooth pieces of metal into Teye's palm. "Take these to her?" she asked.

Teye looked into Sam's eyes, uncertain. "I should stay with you."

Sam shook her head. Her words grew breathless. "Find her again if you can. Take the horse this time. You're a natural – you can ride it..."

Darkness swam across Sam's eyes. She didn't know how long it lasted. The world disappeared for a while – perhaps for minutes, perhaps for days. She dreamed that she was lying injured deep inside a mountain. When she woke someone was sitting beside her, holding her hand.

"Janet?"

"I'm here," said Teye.

Not Janet.

Janet wasn't here. Janet hadn't died. She would live one day.

SG-1 would live too one day... and today.

"Please, Teye," said Sam. "Find her. Help her now. Help the rebels win."

Teye acquiesced. "I will take your amulet to your kinswoman."

Sam thought she felt something soft press against her forehead, and she heard a whisper which might have been "*Goodbye, Barbarian*", but she didn't hear Teye leave. She closed her eyes again for a while, and realised some time later that both the girl and the horse were gone. The sand was like a thick blanket underneath her, still warm from the day's sun. She felt safe in its embrace. The pain had gone now.

When Sam's eyelids fluttered open once more a tiny movement caught her eye. She focused slowly and saw a little creature in the shadow of her arm: a gecko. She was lying so still that the small lizard had placed its forelegs on her hand, apparently unaware that she wasn't part of the desert.

Sam breathed and the gecko's glance settled on her. It paused a few moments, observing her with tiny, bead-like eyes, and then it darted away. She watched it as it ran across the dunes, growing ever smaller and indistinct. She waited until it disappeared before she closed her eyes for the last time.

She was out there too somewhere, in the sands, fighting in the Tau'ri rebellion; and one day she would be up there, among the stars, defending Earth and all its people beside Teal'c and Daniel and O'Neill.

So she could rest for now.