Sarah Zettel: Reclamation

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 backbreaking 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.”