Reclamation(7)
“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.”
“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.