Reclamation

by Sarah Zettel

  “You will hear your instructions now.” Basq made an imperious come-hither gesture.

  Eric took a deep breath and flexed his hands. He took one step toward Basq, then swung his whole body around and bolted for the door.

  The pain toppled him before he was even halfway there.

  His shoulders hit the floor and the pain seared through them. His teeth and eyes clenched shut and tears streamed down his face as he choked on his own screams.

  The release was like a blessing. Eric lay where he was, unable to do anything to silence the sobs spilling out of him. With each degrading sound, his anger built. When he could finally raise his head to look at his impassive captor, he knew it all shone in his eyes.

  The expression on Basq’s face didn’t even flicker. “This treatment will not kill you, Eric Born, but it will seriously traumatize you if you require it to continue.”

  Shaking, Eric got to his feet. He mopped the sweat and tears off his face. “What could possibly be this important to you?”

  Basq moved to the door and traced a pattern at shoulder height on it. A portion of the surface cleared away to reveal a square of clear silicate. He stood aside so Eric could have an unobstructed view.

  Easy. Eric made himself breathe deeply. Need to take this easy. I’ll get out of here somehow and then this hairless barbarian better look to his skin. I just need time.

  Eric bent down and peered through the little window, using the wall to hold himself upright. The room beyond was airy by station standards. A long table held a pitcher and an empty plate and a stack of what appeared to be artwork folios. Next to them were scattered the pieces of a partly completed woodblock puzzle. A sunken pool of water big enough for bathing steamed in the far corner of the room across from a thick sleeping mat. The corner to the right of the door was curtained off.

  His fresh confusion barely had time to take root before the curtain drew back and a woman in rags and patchwork stepped out of the alcove. A strip of coarsely woven, black cloth hid her hair completely. A poncho made of greased patches covered a shapeless tunic of undyed cloth belted with a strip of worn leather. More leather strips bound her thick leggings and straw-soled sandals.

  The woman glanced at the door and Eric got a full look at her face. Dark, calculating eyes slanted above her high cheeks.

  The skin on her face and throat had been roughened by exposure to harsh weather. Her jaw had a determined set. She made no gesture toward him, however, and Eric decided this must be a one-way window.

  After a moment, the woman shook her head and strode to the pool. She squatted down next to the steaming water and extended her hands. Jagged, white lines crisscrossed her dust-colored skin, making a pattern of uneven squares.

  Eric felt as if he’d been struck hard in the chest. He remembered, all too clearly, when his hands had borne their own marks. His were elaborate blue-and-green swirls curling from his fingertips to his wrists. Bright, gold circles shone in the centers of his palms. He remembered how shaky they felt when he stood in the streets of Tiered Side with the night’s freezing rain spattering against them and the Skymen with eyes like ice and milk told him he’d be free…

  Eric jerked his head back to stare at Basq. “She’s from the Realm!”

  “We require you to act as translator and cultural liaison for us,” Basq said. “Beginning immediately. There has already been too much delay.”

  He looked back through the window. The woman sat at the table now, fitting pieces into the puzzle. He squinted toward her hands, looking for a trace of gold on the palms. There was nothing, just bare, brown skin.

  “But…” he began incredulously. “What do you want with a Notouch?”

  Basq tapped the translation disk in his ear. “That term is not coming through.”

  “A nothing. A pariah.” Eric searched for an explanation. “There’s a caste system in the Realm. A strict one. “That"—he pointed toward the window—"is the bottom of the heap. They aren’t even allowed residence in the cities. If you were looking for information or power, Ambassador, your contraband runners cheated you.”

  “We were not cheated. She is what we require.”

  For what? Eric tried to collect his thoughts. His head still reeled from the shocks he’d been given.

  Basq didn’t give him time for another question. “We require that she be made aware of her situation and the necessity of cooperating with us fully. Coercion is time-consuming, but still a viable option and you will make that clear as well. We require answers to our questions so that we can construct a context for her language usage and communicate with her directly.”

  Eric felt as if the world about him had begun gently rocking. He was supposed to go in there and threaten a powerless Notouch with coercion? What could she have possibly done to get the Vitae so…irrational?

  Even if she did turn out to be a power-gifted, like him, but who’d never been picked up by the Temple, what could she possibly have done?

  Eric shoved the questions to the back of his mind. “Whatever it is you want from her, but there’s no guarantee I can get it for you.”

  “Why?”

  He held up his hand, relieved to see that it had stopped shaking. “No hand marks. I had mine removed. The ma-aman tell a person’s caste and family identity. They also tell if they’re an ayaraku, a priest, or…teacher, is maybe a better translation.” He lowered his hands and studied the backs for a moment. “They also mark you as one of the People. One of those named by the Nameless Powers. Without hand marks, she’s got no way to know who she’s addressing, so she may decide not to trust…”

  “You speak her language. We require that you get her to begin talking. That is your assignment. You are already aware of the consequences of refusal.”

  Who in all the worlds do you think you are? The anger that rose in him was almost enough to temporarily block out the memory of the pain. Almost.

  Eric let his head droop. “You can threaten me until the suns burn out, Ambassador. I’ve still had my hand marks removed. She won’t know me from a Shessel’s brood and she’ll have no reason to trust me, even if she’s capable of understanding what I tell her, which she might not be.”

  “If I am satisfied that you have made the fullest effort on this, you will not be hurt further,” said Basq.

  Garlsmit’s Eyes! Eric resisted the impulse to ran both hands through his hair. This was going from beyond comprehension to beyond belief. What could he do? Even if she was a volunteer, as he had been, and had gotten into this on her own, he couldn’t just leave her with these…things.

  A Teacher is the caretaker of all those spoken of by the Nameless Powers. A Teacher is bound by the gift of power and the…

  Stop it. That’s over with. That’s dead and drowned.

  He looked at her again, nearly mesmerized by her scarred hands and intense face as she fitted two of the puzzle pieces together. She had left youth behind but hadn’t arrived at middle age yet. She was his own age, maybe. The lines around her mouth had been drawn by smiles as well as cares. Eric wouldn’t have believed there was room left in him for more confusion, but he felt it all the same. There sat a living, breathing representative of everything he had run away from, and part of his soul reached out to her like a long-lost friend.

  “All right,” he said. “I’ll do what I can.”

  Eric thought he heard a whisper of a sigh escape from Basq. “Is there any other information I can provide you?”

  The question is, is there any information you are going to provide me? Eric set his jaw and, with an effort that almost drained what little strength had returned to him, tried to think productively.

  “I assume she has seen you?”

  “Yes. Her reaction was…unexpected.”

  Eric felt his forehead wrinkle. “In what way?”

  “She attacked her caretakers.”

  Eric took another look at her. She looked like she weighed a hundred pounds less than he did, but the Notouch spent their time at backbreaki
ng labor and the Realm’s gravity was stronger than most. She probably could have laid someone Basq’s size out flat if she’d tried.

  What made her try, though? Aside from being kidnapped. If she was kidnapped. I can’t be the only one who was ready to commit heresy to get off that mud-ball. And a Notouch would have even more reason to run than I did.

  “Did you show her anything outside the ship that brought her here?” asked Eric. “The stars or the station or anything?”

  “She was kept anesthetized until she reached her quarters, since your culture does not yet support the concept of powered flight.”

  “That’s not the only concept my former"—Eric stressed the word—"culture does not support. Have you seen the Realm of the Nameless Powers?”

  “I have seen representations of it. It is a network of canyons within a range of mountains.”

  “Which means all their lives, the people there are surrounded by walls. The language has no word for ‘horizon’ because no one’s ever seen such a thing. It makes for a group of natural agoraphobes, among other things.

  “The Words of the Nameless Powers, the basis for the ‘local religion,’ draw a distinction between walls terezan and the sides of the border canyons or those mountains. Those are World’s Walls, monderterezan.

  “It’s the ultimate heresy to try to climb a World’s Wall, because all evil lives beyond them. We are all taught that the Nameless Powers, the gods, erected the Walls to keep their Realm safe.

  “If she knew you’d taken her out of the canyons, she might have been hysterical about committing heresy. The Notouch take the Words very seriously. She might think you’re servants of the Aunorante Sangh…”

  “The what?” demanded Basq.

  The force of his question jolted Eric. “The Aunorante Sangh. It means ‘shameful blood.’ It’s the name for the powers of evil beyond the World’s Walls. Even the World’s Wall couldn’t keep them out, so the Nameless Powers had to send the Servant Garismit to move the Realm.”

  “I see.” Basq’s calm returned, after a moment’s visible struggle. “Go on.”

  What is going on in that bald head? Eric thought while he tried to find the thread of his reasoning again.

  An idea struck him. “Did you take any jewelry or body decorations away from her?”

  Basq considered for a moment. “We took a pair of knives from her, and three small stones.”

  Oh. Well, that explains that, at least. “You probably took her namestones.”

  “What are they?” A new and completely unexpected note crept into Basq’s voice. Curiosity.

  Eric framed his answer slowly. His head was beginning to clear and he wanted all the time he could get to regain his strength. “Most of the Notouch carry carved bits of rock or quartz that represent the dena, the first…the original name. The Teachers frown on the custom,” he added, “but only a few of the Notouch communities have ever dropped the practice.” A little extra information might make it look like he was accepting his imprisonment. Which might make Basq get careless sooner. “As I said, they take the Words of the Nameless very literally. Taking her namestones probably did a lot to contribute to the idea that you were the Aunorante Sangh, or their servants.”

  “I see. Is there anything else?”

  Eric suppressed a sigh and straightened his shoulders. “I don’t think so. Whenever you’re ready, Ambassador.”

  Eric stood back while Basq used the first two fingers on his right hand to tap an uneven rhythm on the surface of the door. The door slid away, creating a breeze that ruffled Basq’s scarlet wrappings.

  The Notouch jerked her head up. Her eyes did not go round with shock or fear at the sight of Basq, which Eric would have expected, but narrowed to dark slits. The sight of Eric, though, made her draw back in her chair.

  Eric walked into the room, keeping to one side of Basq. The Notouch did not kneel as she should have before another of the People. She just watched him come toward her. The pattern of the formal greeting of a Teacher to a Notouch came to Eric easily, as if he’d spoken it yesterday, not ten years ago.

  He raised both hands with the palms turned toward the woman. “I stand in the place of the Nameless Powers and the Servant Garismit and so do I greet you who were named when the Powers walked the world.” The words of his native language felt strange, almost unwieldy, against his tongue. “I was named by them Teacher Hand kenu Lord Hand on the Seablade dena Enemy of the Aunorante Sangh. How did they name you, Notouch?”

  For a moment she just stared at his unmarked hands. Then, the corner of her mouth twitched.

  “So, it’s true. You did climb the World’s Wall.” She used the “level-eye” permutations and, for a minute, Eric wasn’t sure if she was insulting him or just talking to herself.

  Despite himself, Eric was startled. “Who are ‘they’, Notouch?”

  “Gossipers, Teacher. Heretics. It’s been ten years since you vanished and there were all sorts of stories.” She spoke directly to him now and still didn’t change her speech patterns. Her mouth spread into a knowing grin. “Tell me, are the birth ranks really observed in this place? His people are all bare as children.” She jerked her chin toward Basq. “Come to that, so are you.”

  “What is she saying?” Basq cut in.

  “Nothing you’d be interested in yet, Ambassador.” Eric lowered his hands. This was not behavior he’d ever seen from a Notouch. They bowed and groveled. They begged to be of use, any use at all. He understood that law and custom that made them behave that way, not natural inclination. Not really. But it had taken him a decade’s absence to work that out, and this woman had apparently just been plucked out of the canyons.

  “I will decide what interests me, Eric Born.” A warning sounded clearly under the ice in Basq’s voice.

  “You can talk to them?” The Notouch sounded genuinely impressed. “Tell them to give me my namestones back.”

  “She’s asking about her namestones,” Eric told Basq.

  Basq’s forehead drew together around where his eyebrows should have been. “What about them?”

  “She wants them back.” Eric raised his own eyebrows and gave a small shrug. “I did tell you, Ambassador.”

  Basq made no reply and Eric turned his attention back to the woman.

  “You haven’t told me how to call you yet.”

  “Nameless Powers preserve me.” She slid off the chair onto both knees and held her hands in front of her eyes to display her hand marks. “Teacher Hand kenu Lord Hand on the Seablade dena Enemy of the Aunorante Sangh, this despised one is Stone in the Wall dena Aria Born of the Black Wall. She craves your blessing and asks in what way she may serve?”

  Without waiting for an answer, she picked herself up off the floor and folded her arms. The sardonic smile slid back into place.

  Eric worked to smooth the grimace out of his own features. “She says that she is Stone in the Wall, born…originally…” He searched for a way to translate the primary name into something that would fit in Basq’s world. “Star in the Night Sky. A bit grandiose for a Notouch, isn’t it?” he added to the woman.

  “This despised one begs her Teacher’s pardon if that name is discordant.” The casual shrug she gave him made a mockery of her subservient language. “It is what the Nameless Powers bestowed upon her.”

  Frustration and bewilderment vied for dominance inside Eric. Where did they find her?

  Never mind, he told himself. I need any help I can get.

  “Listen quick, Aria Born of the Black Wall, do you want to stay with these people?”

  Her eyes shifted toward Basq. “Not really. But I’m not leaving this place until I’ve found my stones.”

  “You idiot Notouch.” Eric fought to keep his tone conversational. “We’re both pris—”

  “Have you explained her status to her?” Basq’s shell of patience was clearly beginning to wear thin. “I have an extensive list of questions.”

  Eric spread his hands. “She’s very upset about t
hose stones.” He could do a great deal on his own, but another pair of eyes at the right time could make the difference between freedom and recapture. If getting her namestones back would put him on the right side of this superstitious woman, very well then. Besides, the more time he spent on this nonsense, the less time Basq would have to get what he wanted. “I can’t swear she’ll answer anything until she gets them back. I’ll try to make things clearer to her.”

  Eric faced the Notouch again. “Do you want your namestones back?”

  “If it so pleases her Teacher, this despised one does.” For a split second, the sarcasm faded.

  “All right. For some reason his people"—he swept his hand at Basq in a gesture that was much grander than the language he was using—"want you to answer some questions. No matter what I say after this, you keep your mouth shut until they bring your namestones back, understand?”

  The Notouch plunked herself down on the chair. She looked up at him with her lips pressed dramatically together.

  Eric spread his hands to Basq again. “She won’t talk until she gets her namestones back.”

  Basq said nothing, but Eric could see anger forming in his normally impassive eyes.

  “Listen to me, Ambassador. Try to understand. This Notouch is a believer. What you…we…think of as a superstitious and primitive religion is reality to her. She can’t disregard it any more than you can disregard the laws of physics, do you understand?” Never mind that she’s already broken a dozen or more tenets just by the way she’s been talking to me. “She’ll act according to what she knows as real. Those stones are onar, a…a…bond between her and the Nameless Powers. She’ll die before she helps the ones who have them.”

  Come on, swallow it. Swallow it, you arrogant dandy.

  Eric waited while Basq thought. He could almost hear the circuits buzzing in the other man’s head. Nothing was plain here. Nothing clear or simple.

  What in the Realm of the Nameless do you want with Notouch talismans?

  Who in the Realm of the Nameless is this Notouch you’ve found?