Just as he knew the laws for the Royal, the Noble, the Bondless, the Bonded, and the Notouch.
Eric shoved the thoughts well into the back of his mind so he could concentrate on the particular Notouch in front of him. She’d also, obviously, found some of his spare clothes. The azure pullover shirt made her a short dress and a pair of his black socks made thin leggings.
Who’d’ve thought a Notouch would have such fine legs?
Stop it, Eric.
She still wore her own belt and headcloth. The stones were now hanging from her belt in an emerald-colored pouch made of a sash he’d gotten for some forgotten formal occasion.
Eric beckoned out of the doorway. “I wasn’t sure you’d make it out. Good sign. I will be able to do something with you after all.”
“Oh?” Amusement glittered behind her eyes as she collected her nerve and wits. “You have something in mind then?”
“Yes, I do.” He pushed the plate full of ration squares across the table to her. “Here, breakfast.” He slid over a cup full of steaming liquid that approximated the brew they called tea in the Realm.
She sat down. “So Cam doesn’t get to eat?” she asked as she picked up a ration square. “This is two meals we’ve had without him.”
Eric found himself strangling on another laugh. “You don’t let an idea go, do you? All right. Just remember, you asked.” He turned toward the airlock corridor. “Cam! Come here!”
Her eyes tracked around to the open threshold. With a smooth, mechanical pace, Cam walked in. It might have been a moving statue of peach-colored clay dressed in saffron overalls. At least that was what Eric had thought the first time he’d seen one.
Arla jerked backward as far as the chair would let her. Eric turned his face away and fought the urge to smile.
Getting her angry at me won’t accomplish anything.
“That is a human-copy. It’s another Skyman machine. It flies the ship at my orders and answers to ‘Cam.’”
“Ah.” She did not relax any.
Eric shook his head. “Return to the bridge, Cam.”
As soon as Cam was out of sight, Arla settled herself back into a normal sitting position and reclaimed her breakfast, which had dropped to the floor.
“I’ve been talking to a friend of mine.” Eric eyed her for a moment. She absorbed the statement calmly. All right. “He thinks he might be able to find a place for you.”
“What kind of place?” She took a long swig of tea.
“Does it matter?”
“Not really. I just like to know what I’m getting into, when I can.” She stuffed the last of the square into her mouth and licked her fingers. Eric tried not to watch. Notouch table manners were apparently no better than their hygiene.
Stop that too, Eric. She wasn’t brought up to know better. It was amazing how quickly the old arrogance came back. For ten years he’d been a servant of one kind or another, and it still came back.
“I’d tell you if I could, but I’ve got no idea what will happen. Perivar, my friend, was one of the Skymen who took me over the World’s Wall. He was also my first friend once I got out here. On top of that, he owes me for a few years of silence. He’ll find some place to put you. It may not be pleasant, but it won’t be life-threatening either.”
“Did you tell him I’m Notouch?” Arla held up her scarred hand and wiggled her fingers.
Eric shook his head. “Not a soul out here would know a Noble from a Notouch, let alone care. You are beyond the laws of the Nameless Powers.”
She nodded, looking down into her tea. Her eyes narrowed a moment at whatever she saw in there before she drank the last of it down.
“There’re a few things we have to take care of first,” Eric went on.
She eyed him in silence.
“First, you must understand you can never mention where you came from.”
She set the cup down. “Why?”
Eric searched for the words to build an explanation. “Some of the Skymen, in their arrogance, or kindness, I have never really figured out which, have decided there are some worlds, or people, that cannot handle meeting them and their ways without falling apart. So they pass laws that label such places forbidden. No trade, no speech, no exchange of any kind.”
Arla snorted. “I’m a Notouch from a Notouch world then. I wish the King in Narroways could know!”
“Yes.” Eric snorted. “I’ve met King Sun. He deserves to know that one.”
Arla shook her head. “Sun after the Storm doesn’t hold the rule anymore. His granddaughter, Silver on the Clouds, became King, two, no, three years ago.” In the language of the Realm, there was only one word for the ruler of a city whether male or female. If a person could hold the throne of one of the twenty-nine city-states, they were called King. “It was during the siege,” Arla added.