Gran had begun this morning much like every one since the fall of Benu's temple: she built a fire.

Fire-building had been one of the first things she had learned as a child, and despite the many years of hardship and suffering she'd borne witness to, the light and warmth of well-built fire were comforts she clung to dearly. As she'd puttered about the house, preparing her morning meal, she found herself setting out twice her usual amount of wheat cakes and boiling extra water for tea.

Apparently, she was due for company this morning.

She stalled for several minutes, doing minor chores, but after nearly half a candlemark, it seemed her guest wasn't coming.  Wondering if perhaps her old gifts were beginning to fail her, Gran settled down to a solitary meal.  After finishing, she moved to clean up and put away the excess food, but her hand hovered over the remaining cakes briefly before falling back to her side.

"Either my mysterious friend is very late, or I'm just getting old," she grumbled to herself.

Rather than wasting more time sitting about the house, Gran resolved to go about the rest of her morning routine.  After sweeping the floor and shaking the rugs out from the stoop, she was clearing the front steps to her house when she finally spotted him.

Her company... at last.

A man dressed in foreign clothing just barely adequate for the chill was trudging up the street.  His head was bowed, but he didn't seem to be making any note of the street markers, and Gran wondered what had possessed him to wander the twisted alleys of Gishoral alone.  Even natives of the city were always careful to get good directions, and to count street markers!

Convinced now that this was the guest she'd been expecting, Gran let out a calming breath and closed her eyes.  Focusing on the meditations she'd learned as a girl, she cleared her mind and called upon her Spirit Sight.

Colors immediately burst forth across her mind.  Most people were multi-hued, but one or two colors held dominance, defining the personality contained within their mortal form.  Children tended to be lighter shades with the medium hues of their adulthood hovering at their core.  Adults were generally medium colors, with a few lighter shades around the edges and splashes of darker colors inside, hinting at the strength of their emotions.

Most people were relatively self-contained, too.  In children, their spirits tended to radiate outward from their physical bodies, reaching out to others.  Many adults spread beyond the confines of their forms as well though to a considerably lesser degree than children but others were starkly-defined humanoid shapes.

This stranger was like nothing she had ever seen, and yet familiar all at once.  His spirit spread out far from his body, touching everyone he met.  As if his charismatic radiance wasn't mesmerizing enough, his spirit was also an intriguing interplay of color and light, blending and contrasting in a breath-taking display of prismatic art.  Lighter hues intermixed freely with darker ones while passionate shades danced with gentler ones.

Her eyes fluttered open in surprise.  Who was this man?

The man abruptly stopped, looking around him with an expression of confusion and despair.  "You look lost," Gran decided aloud.

He turned, allowing her to finally see his face.  While young compared to her nearly eighty thaws, the stranger was no child, despite the lightness of his spirit.  "Hi.  Um, I arrived with the merchant caravan that came in yesterday," he began, shoulders tightening inward as though drawing a protective shell around him.

Gran blinked slowly, and sure enough, the edges of his spirit had withdrawn a little, no longer reaching out as far.  "Then you don't just look lost, you are lost," she answered.

Maybe that was part of the conflict of his multi-colored spirit: the man had recently lost himself, and had yet to pull together the pieces of his mind and personality.  While serving in Benu's temple, she had met a man who had been injured when a mineshaft partially collapsed, and the resulting blow to the head had temporarily caused the man to lose himself.  Granted, his spirit hadn't been quite as colorful as this young man's, but the miner had displayed hues which shifted as they attempted to return to their proper places.

"Yeah," the young man sighed.  "These streets and buildings all look the same."

She grinned, leaning on her broom handle.  "They do to me too, boy... and I've lived here for forty thaws!"

"You're forty?" he asked.

The incredulity of his voice was amusing enough, but the bewildered expression on his open face was the final spark.  Gran laughed.  "Oh, that's rich!  No, boy, I spent my first thirty-seven thaws up near the mines."

"Mines?"

"Gold and the gods' ore.  'Course they let us sell some of each off for food and supplies when you traders come through the Ring, otherwise we'd probably all starve to death."  She cocked her head to the side.  "Didn't they tell you any of this?"

"Some of it, yes, but this is my first time here with the caravan," he answered with a small sigh.  "I'm a translator."

He was far more than a translator, but when she closed her eyes in an exaggerated blink, she could see he believed his own statement.  "And I'm an old widow who misses having someone who'll actually listen when I talk.  Come on inside and warm yourself."

The young man hesitated.  "I really should get back to the inn.  My, uh... my wife will be probably be looking for me."

"If she's smart, she won't go out into the City to look for you, and if she's not, she'll get lost, too," Gran replied, opening her front door.  "You might as well come in and warm up so I can tell you the secret to navigating the City."

He hesitated a moment longer, then nodded and complied.  After hanging his outer-garments to dry per her instructions, he sat down on the low bench she kept next to the fireplace.  "Your house is very cozy," he complimented nervously.

Smiling to herself, Gran continued gathering a tray with the extras from her morning meal.  While she worked, she allowed her Spirit Sight to roam over the young man again, noting some of the variances.  Deep blue indicated a wealth of wisdom, but it was curiously laced with liberal streaks of the pale yellow of childish innocence.  The fiery red of romantic love burned dimly where it bordered on a slim line of dark red hatred, but glowed brightly where it abutted the vast swath of green representing the man's sense of stability.  That large patch was interwoven with speckles of active orange, pink affection, purple tranquility.

All this passion, intelligence, and emotional complexity swirled lazily along behind the thick blanket of white purity, as though something had deliberately blocked his access to his own personality.  Shaking her head to dispel the bewildering image, Gran gathered her tray and returned to the sitting area.  "Thank you, boy," she replied, answering his earlier statement.  "I learned to prepare a good fire in my youth, working in the Temple of Benu."

Curiosity crossed his features.  "Benu?  As in the local, uh... god of funerals?"

"Supposedly our god of rebirth.  But the thaw comes later and later every year, and Benu's temple is still a pile of rubble."  Not that she'd expected Benu to have any power over such things anyway.  The creature who'd pretended to be Benu had been but a dark red and black coil surrounding and dominating the spirit within, and she and the other priests of the temple had known he was an imposter to the name.  Benu, they all knew, had no physical form, but they humored the would-be god and kept him happy with their elaborate rituals of feigned worship.

The real purpose of the temple had been to teach those who were gifted beyond the norm, and to hide and protect them from those who would wish them harm.  In Gran's case, the Spirit Sight had been nearly the extent of her abilities, but it was a useful gift when supplicants came to the temple, seeking the aid of the holy men and women who worked there.  In fact, Gran had been the appointed "High Priestess" the day she met the man who was to become her husband.

"Yes, I was told the temple was all-but destroyed when, uh, when Sokar invaded."

"Sokar?" Gran questioned, pouring two cups of tea.  "Ah, Seker.  Oh, that old devil would have liked to think he was half the god Benu was.  His Jaffa just marched through the Ring one day, declaring their master had slain Benu in battle.  With the Fire Lord dead, Seker was free to lay claim to his territories."  She scoffed.  "Seker styled himself as a fiery underworld god, like some twisted form of Benu."  Both were parasites, only one had illusions of being a "benevolent" god, while the other gave in to his baser nature.

Confusion and horror flitted across the young man's face.  Cautiously opening her senses, she became aware of a rush of flame and anguish and fear and triumph, and was once more taken aback by the strength of his emotions.  "My dear boy, are you all right?"

He jumped, snatching for his cup of tea to keep it from falling.  "S-sorry," he stammered.  "I, uh, I had a nightmare about fire last night, which is why I went out walking this morning."  He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, he was calmer.  "You were saying?"

That nagging sense of familiarity was back again.  Gran had thought she'd narrowed the similarities down when she compared him to the amnesiac miner she fell in love with and married, but that wasn't the only thing calling out to her.  "I was telling you how the temple was destroyed.  Seker's Jaffa burned it to the ground when they took over the old fortress.  That's when my husband and I moved from the mines to the City."

"Did anything survive the fire?" he asked.  "I mean, I'm sure there were writings and art still in the temple when it was destroyed."

She shook her head.  "What Seker's Jaffa didn't destroy, Yu's did."

"Oh."

He sounded genuinely disappointed, and she sensed in him a kindred spirit who mourned the wanton destruction of knowledge.  "You're a very respectful young man, if a bit strange."

The young man ducked his head.  "Thank you, uh, ma'am."

"Just call me Gran.  Everyone else does."

"I'm Daniel."

"That's a nice name for a nice boy," she smiled.  A thought struck her then.  "Tell me, had you ever heard of Benu before you came here?"

He hesitated.  "I'm not sure.  Maybe?"

She leaned forward, palms beginning to sweat.  "Benu's avatar was a bird.  The Benu bird, it is said, dies in flame, but is reborn from the ashes.  A painful way to die, yes, but the bird returns to life brighter, wiser, and more wondrous than ever."

Daniel shivered, as though her words had found some resonance within him.  "Do you think Benu's temple will be reborn from its ashes, Gran?"

"No," she replied, certain now of the source of his strange familiarity, "but if you're finished with your tea, there's something I'd like to show you."

He set his cup down, and she rose slowly from her comfortable chair and collected the battered lantern from her mantle.  Lighting the wick, she motioned for him to follow her to the cellar door set into the wall beneath the stairs to the second floor.  At the bottom of the cellar steps, she turned, walked over to a large cabinet built into the far wall, and handed Daniel her lantern.

"My husband was one of the miners," she explained, "but he worked for the temple during the months when the roads to the mine were made impassable by heavy snow.  We were both at the temple the day Seker's Jaffa destroyed it, but with the help of a few others who worked there, we were able to save the most important documents and relics."  Sliding back the well-oiled latch, she threw open the tall doors and waved her arm over the contents.

Daniel's eyes grew wide as he took in the stacks of scrolls and shelves of books.  "You saved all this?  H-how..."  His expressive eyebrows knitted.  "How did you manage to save all this from the fire?"

Gran smiled, closing the cabinet.  "We began packing early, as we had a good idea of what would happen when the Jaffa first stepped through the Great Ring," she explained, deciding against sharing that one of the temple's acolytes had foreseen the burning of the temple.  Daniel, with his inquisitive mind, would certainly want to know more, but she sensed he would have to find his own answers to his many questions.

"Oh," he replied simply.  "Um... no one, uh, happened to save a statue about this high " he spread his hands a distance approximately equal to the length of his forearm" did they?"

"In the shape of a rising bird?" she asked rhetorically, pointing to a second set of doors in the cabinet.  "Yes, my boy, they did."  She cocked her head to the side.  "It does me no good sitting down here in the dark.  It's yours."

"What?  No, I couldn't... I mean—"

Gran fisted one hand on her hip, and reached up with the other to turn his chin to face her directly.  "Daniel, lad, the real Benu didn't care for physical trappings... he was a spirit, and had no need of 'em.  The Goa'uld imposter who laid claim to his name insisted upon having symbols of his stolen wealth on display.  The Benu bird is a symbol of the real Benu, but he won't at all mind you having this statue."  She chuckled.  "In fact, I think he might appreciate the irony."

Daniel's mouth hung open in surprise.  "Uh, what do you mean?"

"Oh, only that anything which would annoy the false Benu would be appreciated by the true one," she prevaricated dismissively.  "Now hand me that lantern, and let's get you your statue, eh?"

Once the statue was retrieved, she led Daniel back up the stairs and settled herself beside the fire while he tucked the relic into his satchel.  Folding her hands primly, she then began to explain the street markers used by the citizens of Gishoral, and insisted he repeat her directions.  There had once been a metaphysical meaning to the colors chosen for the city's directions, but explaining their significance was something she was sure would take more time than this young man had available.

The sudden ache in her old bones foretold of coming trouble.  "There's a good lad," she beamed when he completed his recitation of the directions.  "I hope to meet you again the next time the caravans are in town, Daniel.  Perhaps it will have finally thawed by then."

Both situations, she feared, were unlikely.  Gishoral was beginning what one of the temple prognosticators had foretold was an "ice age", and it would be many generations before it warmed again long after it had become uninhabitably cold.  As for Daniel, he had a destiny before him, and she doubted even the most skilled of the seers could have mapped his future.

As if echoing her fears, the city's alarm bells began to ring.  "Another Jaffa attack," she answered in reply to his inquiry.  "Back inside the house, boy... it's best you stay inside until this is over."

Quickly, he shut the door and moved away from it.  "Does this happen often?"

"Once or twice a thaw, in the old days.  This is the second time for an attack in only a few days, though." 

Daniel carefully laid his satchel on the floor and helped her to shove a wedge under the door to prevent it from being easily opened from the outside, then he closed and latched the interior shutters on the windows.  "Which Goa'uld do you think it is?"

She shook her head.  "Does it matter?  They all want the same things: ore from the mines, people to worship them, and the occasional servant."

"What about hosts?" he asked.

"Not here.  We don't breed 'em pretty enough," Gran grinned, deliberately raking her eyes over the young man.  He was, after all, as beautiful on the outside as his spirit.  "All-the-more reason for you to stay inside until the fight's finished."  She cocked her head, listening to the sounds of battle.  "Staff weapons, and lots of 'em."

Daniel frowned.  "More than normal?"

"Many more than normal," she confirmed.  "This fight won't take long.  I doubt reinforcements have arrived from the fortress yet, so there may still be a while yet before it is safe to open the door."  Apparently trusting her advice, Daniel returned to his seat beside the fire.

It took nearly a full candlemark before the battle subsided, and when Gran was confident the immediate danger had passed, she motioned for Daniel to open the door.  No sooner had he reached for the handle than a booming voice began to announce something supposed to be impressively frightening.  "It's one of those blasted vo'cumes," she explained at Daniel's questioning look.  "Useless blathering.  I never understood the language of the gods."

"He's telling us to surrender and bow before him... him being Ba'al," Daniel translated, a grimace twisting his face.  "This is going to make it difficult for my caravan to leave, isn't it?"

"That it might.  What else is he saying?"

"We're to assemble before him to 'hear the words of he who possesses the vo'cume'," he replied.  "This may be my opportunity to get back to the inn to my people."

Gran nodded in agreement.  "Good luck to you, Daniel."

He paused.  "You're not going to—"

"I'm too old to be standing out in the cold whilst an over-inflated monkey in a tin suit tells me to bow down in praise of his 'god'," she grinned wolfishly.  "Now, you go find that wife of yours, boy, and get yourselves off this ice block."

Daniel gave her a quick hug, gathered his bag, and plunged back out into the frigid air.  Gran stood in the doorway and watched until he merged with a crowd heading for the road to the Stargate, then switched to her Spirit Sight to follow him beyond the curves of the road.

His curious blend of ageless wisdom and youthful enthusiasm had been a welcome light to the old woman's day, and though it had taken her time to understand the impressions of him her gifts had given her, Gran now realized exactly why it was Daniel had been so familiar.  His outwardly-reaching spirit, the brilliant light of his soul, and the ever-shifting hues of his complex personality: these were the things she saw the one and only time she found herself in the presence of another being of Benu's race.  Furthermore, there was a gentle touch about him that mirrored the one she saw on herself when she turned her Sight inward.

Watching as Daniel's light faded from her vision, she sighed, recalling the name of the teacher who'd helped her to master the Spirit Sight.  "Oh, Oma... what did you do to that boy?"