Sarah Zettel - Reclamation

“You have until the next sunshowing!”

Taking her words as their cue, the helmeted artifacts raised their weapons and began to retreat, one step at a time. Silver backed her ox up to stay in the middle of them. No one tried to stop them as they disappeared between the ramshackle buildings.

Avir felt something whither inside her. I should have let Ivale do this. I don’t know how to handle them. I don’t know what to do. This is not what I’m trained for. This is not what anybody here is trained for.

The remaining artifacts stared up at her with their wide eyes. They were waiting for her to do something miraculous to prove that she really was a daughter of the Ancestors. But she had no proof to offer.

Avir glowered at the herd of artifacts, suddenly furious. They all leaned a bit closer together and ducked their heads in the face of her anger. Avir knew they were not to blame for their own ignorance, but knowing that did not help calm her.

Her translator disk beeped. “Contractor,” said Ivale’s voice, “there is a transmission from the Reclamation Assembly that requires your attention.”

Avir touched her disk to acknowledge him, and, with as much dignity as she could muster, she retreated behind the blanket.

Ivale watched her a little too closely as she crossed the chamber. Did he see the hollowness inside her? She thought she had her face properly expressionless, but she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure of anything right now.

She reached the active comm screen and faced a single Contractor, immaculate in his seamless black robe. Avir suddenly remembered how rumpled and ash-spattered she was.

“Allow me to hand you my name, Contractor.” He had elected to be as bald as an Ambassador and yet as brown as an artifact. Avir wondered what had motivated the juxtaposition. “I am Contractor Cynleah Laefhur, of the Fust Core, and Senior Contractor to the Reclamation Assembly. We have news that will affect your division.”

His quiet, steady voice went straight through Avir , soothing her instantly. She wanted to lean toward the screen and drink in his voice, as a reminder of what she ought to be.

“Bio-technician Uary has confessed himself to be an Imperialist and has volunteered the location of the Unifier base just outside your division. One of their operators is Jahidh of the Grand Errand. He has been transmitting information about the Home Ground to his Imperialist contacts for four years.”

Blood of my ancestors, Avir staggered. There’s been an Imperialist on the Home Ground for FOUR YEARS? Avir felt her breathing go harsh and shallow. “Where is he now?” she croaked. “Do we know that?”

“These are your orders, Contractor Avir,” said Laefhur. “You will investigate the Unifiers’ finds. You will not waste resources hunting for Jahidh.”

“Contractor,” Avir drew her shoulders back. This man might hold a senior ranking and an Assembly seat, but he did not hold her name. “How can…”

“We want him free to continue his researches,” said the Contractor. “He has made great contributions to the understanding of the artifacts. As long as he believes he is undetected, he will continue to do so. The Witnesses will take charge of him if he oversteps the bounds the Assembly has laid down on his conduct.”

Avir could not force a single word out of her throat.

“It is the Reclamation that is important, Contractor. We must not lose time because of lack of skilled hands.”

And it must not be seen that the Assembly allowed Imperialists to slip through their notice. Resolve hardened inside her. “I can make this my work and I will,” she said, giving a properly deep obeisance.

Laefhur’s image was gone by the time she straightened up. Avir realized her hands had curled into fists. Her mind was already racing. Transportation would have to be acquired from the Acquisitions committee, and a security team contracted. The Unifiers’ base would have to be thoroughly explored and cataloged. Extra personnel would certainly be needed once the initial survey of the base was complete.

She would obey her orders, but communication with the artifacts was still at an uncertain stage. Everyone was aware of that. It was well documented and witnessed. If they did not understand they were to cease their search for one particular Skyman, that, surely, was not her fault.

Jay cast another glance at Heart of the Seablade. The Teacher hunched in front of the fire watching the flames in a way that suggested he did not like what he saw. Jay shivered as the wind blew through the tent flaps and, for the hundredth time, he cursed the necessity of bringing the Teacher along. Heart had too many distractions inside his head to allow Jay to predict the outcome of his thoughts. But they needed a Teacher to help bring the Notouch into line in case Cor’s efforts at persuasion were not totally successful, so Jay needed Heart.

Years of practiced acting allowed Jay to put a concerned tone in his voice. “What is it you are worried about now, Teacher?”

Heart picked up a cold lump of charcoal from the meager stack that was their night’s supply of fuel. “My wife was in the High House when they came down, Messenger. What will they do to her?”

Be patient. You need him to keep the Notouch in line. Say it again. Jay wrapped his poncho a little closer around him. “Nothing, Heart. She’s valuable to them. You all are. That’s what’s buying us this time.” That and King Silver’s pride.

“ I do hold her in my regard, Messenger.” Heart pitched the charcoal onto the flames. The fire hissed and a flurry of sparks danced above the flames. “She is so unwavering…I fear they will grow impatient with her.”

Jay considered laying a hand on the man’s shoulder, but couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. “I know these people, Heart. They’re born patient. They cannot be rushed. I once…” His translator disk beeped.

Cor’s voice hissed in his ear. “Jay, get your sodden face out here. I’m about to be bludgeoned.”

“Blood of my…” Jay scrabbled at the tent’s laces and tore them open.

It was full night outside. The icy wind drove straight down on his head, making him stagger as he emerged from the tent. The only light was from the four orange watchflres. Everything else was a solid curtain of black.

“Hold your hand!” he bellowed to the world in general.

Jay squinted at one fire after another. The one toward his left flopped sideways in the wind and Jay saw a pair of human shadows, one standing and one kneeling. He took a bead on the fire and, ignoring the violent crawling of the goose bumps rising on his skin, waded through the weeds and reeds toward it

“I speak for her!” he shouted as he approached.

Jay entered the tiny circle of flickering light and saw Cor on her knees with her hands in front of her eyes. A soldier with Bondless tattoos on his hands and a craggy face that Jay didn’t recognize held his metal-studded club over her head.

“What in the sight of the Nameless is all this?” Cor demanded as Jay waved the soldier aside. “An invasion?”

“Hardly.” A fresh wind hit him and Jay shivered. “The Vitae have got that show to themselves.” He brushed the soldier back. The man gave Jay the barest possible salute and tramped off into the darkness.

“I noticed.” Cor stood and picked up her handlight. She seemed oblivious to the cold. “We had word. They’ve started giving orders that the Notouch be rounded up.” She clipped her light onto her belt.

“So you found Stone in the Wall’s relatives?” For a moment, eagerness was stronger than the cold.

“Yeah, I found them.” Cor stretched her hands out to the fire and let the light shine between her fingers. “I thought you were going to King Silver for letters of authority, not for a small army.” She nodded toward the cluster of a dozen tents.