Myriad is me, and Ooie is my nickname for my little brother. I do not own Stargate: SG-1, Colonel Jonathan “Jack” O’Neill, Daniel Jackson, or the zat’nikatel, much as I would like to.

Chapter One:
Never Tell a God You’re Bored

Didididoo. Didididoo. Eyes fuzzy, I watched as Col. O’Neill yelled for Daniel to dial the ’gate. The zat’ sounds continued and I yawned. Mom and Ooie were at a doctor’s appointment and Dad was at work, leaving me with nothing to do but watch the Stargate marathon that was on every Monday night. Not that I didn’t like Stargate; on the contrary, in was probably my favorite show. But I’d seen that particular episode a dozen times, and even I could only hear the zat’ noise so many times without going crazy.

I wish something interesting would happen, I thought dully.

“CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR!!”

I yelped and sat up with a start as the booming voice rolled through my living room. I blinked, and in the instant my eyes were shut a figure appeared in the room before me. He was short, with a mess of red hair and perfectly tanned skin. He wore nothing but a bit of leather around his waist, something between a loincloth and a kilt, shamelessly baring his toned bronze body. He had a thin-bladed nose and wide, chiseled lips beneath wicked eyes of deepest crimson. But what really caught my attention was the pair of thin gold horns sprouting from his forehead.

“WHAT’S THE MATTER, NEVER SEEN A GOD BEFORE??” he asked, grinning as I gaped at him.

“Um…no,” I said weakly. “Who are you?”

“TYLER, GOD OF MISCHIEF, MAYEM, AND ALL MANNER OF DIVERSION. AND SEX,” he added with a roguish wink.

I winced and put a hand to my temple. It is quite something to hear a half-naked, four-foot tall man say “sex” at 120 decibels. “Ow. I don’t suppose you could…turn down your godliness, Mr…Tyler?”

“For someone who’s just met a sex god, you don’t seem very excited,” he said in something closer to normal human tones.

“I’m not sure I believe you are a god,” I told him.

He winced and put a hand to his heart. “That hurts, you know. I cease to exist if people stop believing in me.”

“You’re certainly dramatic enough,” I said dryly. “Stop pouting. I’m willing to consider the possibility.”

“Good,” he said, cheerful again. “Now, I understand you want something interesting to happen?”

“Yes…” I said warily. There was a glint in his eye that I didn’t trust. “I’m just…a little bored.”

“Your wish is my command,” he said with a wicked grin, and vanished.

Then everything went black.

The first thing I noticed when I woke was that my head hurt. A lot. The second thing I noticed was that it was very cold. And the third was the scent of wax and smoke, which my befuddled brain interpreted as candles.

Fairly confused—I didn’t remember there being candles in my living room—I tried to open my eyes and sit up. In the first I succeeded; a hand on my shoulder, however, halted the second.

“No, don’t sit up. You should rest,” said a feminine voice.

“How do you feel, my lady?” asked another voice, warm and deep.

Probably male, I thought idly, lying down once more. A look to my left confirmed my suspicions. “Where am I?”

“This is the temple of Tyler Mischief-Maker in Muibdinol,” he told me with a kind smile. “I am Wisel, High Priest of Tyler. This is Ariana.”

He was tall and slim, with long brown hair that fell into his soft gray eyes. He looked to be in his early twenties. She was slim as well, though considerably shorter. Her hair was a light blonde-brown much like my own, though hers was cropped in daringly short spikes. Here eyes were so dark a brown as to be almost black, with all the allure of her 19 years in their glittering depths. Both were simply dressed in somewhat ragged tunics and trousers of cloth that had probably been copper-colored originally. Around their necks on silver chains they wore a strange motif, a golden fox with a ruby eye, surrounded by a stylized swirl of silver and rubies, which I took to be a symbol of Tyler.

“You’ve been asleep for three days,” Ariana said. “A merchant found you in the snow outside the city and brought you to our temple, as since you bear Tyler’s mark.”

“What?”

“Here.” Wisel tapped the gold fox tattooed over my heart, then traced his finger along the silver swirls surrounding it. Unlike the pendants, these swirls continued on, making a silvery path between my breasts.

I twitched and pulled the blanket up higher before his hand could get that far. I had only just realized I was naked.

Wisel didn’t seem bothered by my reaction to his touch. He just gave me a grin reminiscent of Tyler’s in its wickedness, and ducked when Ariana threw a (fortunately unlit) candle at him.

“The girl’s been awake five minutes and already you’ve got your hands on her!” she exclaimed. “Must you flirt with every woman you meet?”

“Only the pretty ones,” he said solemnly. “You shouldn’t be so jealous.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ariana said loftily.

“Oh, don’t try to deny it. You’ve loved me since the day we—”

“Um…Wisel? Ariana? Do you have anything I could wear?” I didn’t want to get between them—this was obviously an old thing with them, partially a joke and partially a serious point of contention—but I was feeling very odd without any clothes.

“Of course. I’ll get you something,” Ariana said, refusing to look at Wisel.

“Thank you.”

“So…” Wisel said, trying to break the stillness left after their argument. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours. And you haven’t told us what you were doing before that merchant found you in the snow.”

“My name is Myriad,” I said softly, looking around me, “and I have absolutely no idea why I’m here, and why your god thought it would be a good idea to remove my clothes. At least, I’m assuming it was him who did it, because the last thing I remember is talking with him.”

Wisel gaped at me. “You actually spoke with Tyler?”

“He was quite melodramatic.”

“But that’s impossible! The Gods never speak with humans,” he said, running a shaky hand through his hair. “Unless…Myriad, where are you from?”

I blinked at him. “Madison, Wisconsin. The United States.”

His eyes widened. “Fox’s tails,” he swore softly. “You’re the Speaker!”

Wisel didn’t explain what he meant by that. When Ariana came back with clothes he pounced on her and dragged her from the room to talk, leaving me to figure out how to dress myself.

First came a loincloth and breast band (I had to fuss with it for quite a while to get it to fit me), then a tunic and trousers like what Ariana and Wisel had been wearing (There was a complicated set of ties around the cuffs and waistband of the trousers that took me several minutes to figure out). The tunic and trousers were too small—I was much taller than Ariana.

Barefoot and feeling strange in her borrowed temple clothes, I padded out of the room and into the main hall of the temple. Ariana and Wisel were still fervently discussing something—no doubt my new identity as the “Speaker”—so I studied the hall and pretended I couldn’t hear the whispered snatches of their conversation.

“…Must tell the King!” Ariana said heatedly.

“He’s not King yet, and besides…” Wisel dropped his voice to the point where I could no longer hear it. Curious, I padded closer, pretending to be fascinated with the statue of Tyler. It was magnificent, depicting him seated, surrounded by double-tailed foxes and with seven tails f his own forming a peacock-like fan behind him. The statue was wood, painted a chipping gold with the foxes silver and their eyes vivid crimson. But I wanted to know what Wisel was saying.

“…The nobles won’t confirm him unless he has the Sword, and we don’t know that It will accept him!”

“We never will know until we find It, and she’s the only one who can!” Ariana replied.

“Tyler is a minor God—Corin and his priests barely acknowledge him! Why would the Speaker by from him? Corin won’t believe it!”

“What other god would pull a girl from her world and not tell her?” she demanded. “You’re just afraid of losing something else to Corin!”

Wisel glared at her, seemingly unable to retort. She returned his heated look with a cool one of her own, and his gaze dropped. “I just think it’s a bad idea,” he said stubbornly.

Ariana sighed. “I know you and Corin don’t get along, and I know you hate that he’s beaten you, and I know that you’d rather go anywhere than back to the palace.” She took his hand and squeezed his fingers gently. “But Tyler brought her into our world for a reason. We must bring her to Corin, for everyone’s good.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “If we’re going to take her, we should do it now. They will be serving the evening banquet soon—with all those people, Corin and I will have to be civil to one another.” Wisel smiled, but there was little mirth in it.

Ariana squeezed his hand again, then turned to me. “We need to take you to the palace.”

“Why?” I already knew, sort of, but I wanted her to tell me.

“Because you are the Speaker,” she said enigmatically as Wisel left to get us cloaks and boots.

“I don’t know what that means,” I said carefully.

“No doubt the King will explain it,” she said. Her tone told me that was all the information I would get from her.

“Here we are,” Wisel said cheerfully, returning with several threadbare cloaks over one arm and a pair of boots in the other hand. “I’m afraid they’re a little too big, but I thought Ariana’s might be too small.”

They were more than a little too big; I could barely keep them on. Wisel had the feet to match his incredible height, and my own size sevens were swimming in his shoes. But Ariana’s would have been too small, so we padded the boots as best we could and set off.

The night was deep and clear, and the number of stars in the sky amazed me. But I was used to skies brightened by streetlamps and the lights of the stadium, where you could never see many stars at all. I knew now why stars were likened to jewels; they glittered like diamonds set in the inky night sky. The moon was round and full, turning the drifts of snow before us into a field of shimmering pink and blue.

“The lanterns have been put out for longnight,” Ariana told me, gesturing to the unlit doorways of the surrounding temples. “This night the gods rest and do not show themselves to the world. Except for Mela,” she said, looking up at the full moon. “And of course Tyler, who is no doubt watching you.”

The snow was deep and the path Wisel took was mostly alleys and side streets that hadn’t been cleared. “If you are watching me, I’d really appreciate some answers,” I muttered as we tramped along. But there was no answer. In the infinite silence of the night, we traveled on.