STARGATE ATLANTIS: Dead End by Chris Wraight Page A

having to use her own considerable martial skills. The chance to immerse herself in an alien culture, to take some time to try and understand how the people of another world ordered themselves, was a rare privilege. She intended to exploit it to the full.
    “Where are we taking this?” she said to Miruva.
    The Forgotten woman carried the product of her labor, a circular mat made from the dried plains grass. It was much smaller than others Teyla had seen. She guessed that the scarcity of materials forced compromises to be made.
    “This is to be placed in the Hall of the Artisans,” said Miruva, proud of her creation. “There will be many other items there. In due course, the Elders will come to judge their merit. Those deemed worthy will grace the dwellings of our leaders. I am hoping that mine will be chosen.” She slid Teyla a rueful smile. “My position is somewhat difficult, of course. My father heads the ruling council, and is a fair-minded man. As a result, he has never used his vote in my favor, and others have taken the prize. But I’m proud of this one. You never know.”
    Teyla looked at the woven disk again. Miruva had created a ring of geometric shapes around the rim, all of which tessellated with each other wonderfully. In the center of the mat, there was a depiction of a hunting scene, as there seemed to be in all the Forgotten artwork. The White Buffalo was woven using a series of swirls to indicate movement. The diminutive figures of hunters surrounded the great animal in heavily stylized form. The colors Miruva had chosen were muted and subtle. Each hunter was a different shade, though it was difficult to make out in the flickering torchlight.
    “Look carefully,” she said to Teyla, her eyes shining. “What do you make of the blue hunter?”
    Teyla took the mat from Miruva and held it up to the light. The figure was almost the same as the others, except that it had a female shape. The Athosian smiled, and handed the mat back. “Will you get in trouble for that?”
    Miruva shrugged. “What if I do? I told you your ideas were beginning to have an effect on me. For the time being, women hunters will only exist in tapestries and weaving. Maybe one day they’ll take their places in the real world.”
    Teyla wondered if Miruva herself could make such a leap. Though outwardly shy and deferential, there seemed to be a core of steel to the young woman.
    “I hope that is so, Miruva,” she said, placing her hand on the girl’s shoulder.
    “We are here,” Miruva said, and pulled aside a hanging from the entrance in front of them.
    They entered a wide hall, somewhat like the assembly chamber, but smaller and lower. Elaborate drapes covered every wall, and the floor was strewn with mats and weavings of many shapes. Miruva’s wasn’t the smallest, but it wasn’t far off. Many of the other items seemed to use grass recycled from previous artifacts. The hall could have held twice the number assembled there with room to spare.
    Miruva looked confident as she placed her mat near the center of the chamber.
    “This is all new grass,” she said, proudly. “I walked long and far to find it before the snow came for good. The key to this competition is detail. A larger object will not necessarily win the prize.”
    Teyla nodded in appreciation. She cast her gaze across the panoply of woven artifacts, admiring the consistent skill. As she did so, she noticed something strange, high up on the bare rock walls.
    “What is that?” she said to Miruva, pointing at an ornate shape engraved on the surface.
    The Forgotten looked at it casually. It looked like it had once been carved deep into the unyielding rock, but was now faint and indistinct. The shape was complex. It could have been an inscription, or maybe a diagram.
    “I don’t know,” she said. “There are marks of this kind scattered throughout the settlement. I have always assumed they were placed there by the builders of this place.”
    Teyla strained