Lya nodded. "He’s been quite…agitated, for the last half hour or so." The Nox didn’t try to hide her mirth as a golden chair was flung across the screen to crash into the sidewall.

The Goa’uld stalked into view, his face contorted in a mask of pure rage. He glared at the small piece of paper clutched in his hand, gave a howl of frustration, crumpled it and threw it. Brother and sister choked back snorts of laughter as the glossy ball hit the wall and then bounced back, smacking Ba’al on the head. It seemed that even the scrawled handwritten note of SG-1 was determined to mock him. He kicked the tormenting paper away, then with a gleam of mad vengeance, the Nox saw him stamp on it, grinding it beneath his foot then he prowled out of sight. Shortly thereafter another piece of furniture, this one a side table, zoomed by adding to the rubble he had already created.

"For one so old, he is quite childish in temperament," Anteaus observed.

"Age does not always bring wisdom." Lya reached up to switch off the mirror attachment, and the glass flickered to dormant mode.

"Those who sent it are equally as young in their mentality."

"Do not mistake their passion for life for being childish. Their reaction to our interference showed great maturity," she winced, "after their initial anger, that is."

"Then they belayed that maturity by sending the message," he countered.

Lya shrugged. "They are impulsive as besets their youth."

"Something they shall grow out of."

The smile that touched her lips was wistful. "I hope they do not. Their enthusiasm is endearing."

"We shall see if you feel the same way after a century or two has passed." Anteaus’s response was dry.

She paused. "You know what our Tree bestowed?"

"How could I not? The entire clan felt the change." He gave a disapproving click of his tongue. "I sometimes wonder what possesses our supposedly wise Matriarch. Thousands of years of sensibility and then she goes and does something as whimsical and impulsive as this."

"Which only goes to prove that we are genetically inclined to be the same. Perhaps it was her way of reminding us of what we have denied over the generations." Lya linked arms with her brother and the pair began sedately walking from the room. "Or perhaps it was just that she wanted to spend more time with the new branch of her clan, and the shortness of the Tau’ri lifespan was inconvenient for her."

"Maybe she considered it a gift," Anteaus added his own thoughts. "A reward for their selflessness, for the sacrifices they made to correct the order of things." He gave his head a small shake. "The why is immaterial. It’s done and no one can rescind what the Great Tree has done."

His words prompted another possibility, in Lya’s mind. A Mother’s rebuke, for the actions of her children, a lesson to them that she did not approve of what they had done. An apology to the ones who had been hurt. "Do you think the other clans know what she did?"

"If not, then they soon will. The Trees gossip worse than the birds."

"We should however, inform SG-1. Even if they felt the life force enter them, they would not know what it meant." Lya’s doe eyes were troubled. "Their anger was not of what we did, it was that we did not tell them."

"Perhaps we should wait," Anteaus suggested. "Let them adjust to the changes already made before adding this new one."

"But not too long. I will not be a party to deceiving them again." Her voice was firm. "It will be hard enough to earn their trust back as it is."

He gave a small smile. "But now we have more time in which to do it."

Lya heaved a sigh. "That we do."

Ba’al’s golden gaze wildly surveyed the room, looking for something else to destroy to relieve the anger that was boiling inside of him. He had known for a day that something in his plan had gone wrong. The mere fact that he could remember concocting his plan and sending the three Jaffa through the quantum mirror, told him that. If things had gone accordingly all the knowledge he had of the present should be from the data crystals he’d placed in the temporal box, not in his memory. At the thought of the temporal box another surge of anger consumed him and he searched for another thing that he could vent his frustration on. A slave, stupid enough to peek into the room suddenly found himself tossed through the air, writhing in agony from the beam of the ribbon device. Killing the slave did little to sooth Ba’al’s temper. He needed something on a grander scale. He barked for one of his Jaffa.

Warily his First Prime stepped into the room. He’d been waiting outside the door listening to His Lord's fury, being careful to stay out of sight so he would not become the object of his anger. "Yes, My Lord?"

"The conversion of Duranah. How goes it?" he asked of the recently acquired planet that he had previously been under the rule of Qebehsenuef.

"They are still reluctant to accept you as their new god," the Jaffa replied.

"Set a course for the planet. It’s time they either bow down and worship me or face my wrath."

"Yes, My Lord." The Jaffa bowed low. He doubted that the citizens of Duranah would suddenly reverse their rebellious stance, however he was pretty sure that that was what His Lord was counting on. Ba’al was looking for a fight and the people of that small defenseless planet would provide it. There was nothing like a good slaughter to put his god in a more pleasant frame of mind. He started to walk away to obey the order when Ba’al called him back.

"Has the bedchamber been repaired yet?"

The Goa’uld started striding across the room. "Send Aurelia there at once. And inform me when we are in orbit of the planet."

The First Prime bowed again, and didn’t rise until His Lord had disappeared from view. His eyes on the floor he caught sight of the crumpled piece of paper that had so infuriated his god. He picked it up and straightened the creases out. Well, that explains it, he thought. He may not have been able read the script written in the Tau’ri language, yet the image was all he needed to understand. Deciding wisely that he would not like to be caught with it in his possession, he dropped the piece of paper then hurried from the room to carry out his god’s orders.

The paper fluttered to the floor, landing face up in the rubble of Ba’al’s temper tantrum, silently mocking.