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Reclamation(9)

By:Sarah Zettel


“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?

And how do I get myself out of here before you translate this conversation for yourselves? Eric did not glance at the walls. It would have been pointless. There was no way he was going to be able to see Vitae surveillance equipment.

Two red spots had appeared on Basq’s cheeks. “Tell her that she will speak. We will hurt her if we have to.”

Eric translated the declaration into the Realm’s most formal command grammar. “The Skyman says if dena Arla Born of the Black Wall does not speak, they will torture her.”

She just looked at him and said nothing.

Eric waited for what seemed a decent interval. “You are either going to have to give her back the namestones, or hurt her,” he told Basq. “I’ve made the situation as plain as I can.”

Basq laid his hand on the door and spoke. Eric touched his translator. Whatever language Basq used, the disk in his ear couldn’t cope with it.

“The stones are being brought back,” Basq announced. “Tell her that and then tell her we will have her cooperation.”

This time, Eric relayed the message word for word.

“As soon as the stones are in my hands, I’ll answer whatever he asks me.” The Notouch kissed her fingertips and held her hand toward the ceiling to send the words from her mouth to the ears of the Nameless.

Eric translated her words faithfully. Basq stayed silent this time and Eric took that to mean “good enough.”

For now, anyway.

The cell door swished open and a slender Vitae, as bald as Basq, handed the Ambassador an opaque plastic tray. On its ribbed surface rested a trio of polished spheres, each the size of a baby’s fist and the color of winter ice.

Eric sucked in a deep breath.

“Arlas.”

The Notouch pushed past Eric and snatched the spheres up. One at a time, she held them toward the ceiling. The light glinted against their curved sides.

“What did you say?” demanded Basq.

“Arlas.” Eric repeated as the Notouch turned her treasures over in her hands. “It means star, or eye, or, well, diamond, I suppose would be close. I’ve only ever seen one set. In the Temple vaults in First City. No one’s found any new arlas in … hundreds of years.” He stared at the Notouch. “Arla Born of the Black Wall,” he murmured her name. “Where did you get those?”

“They’re my namestones.” Apparently satisfied that the spheres were genuine, she began unwinding her headcloth. “You’d be surprised, Teacher, what you find in the swamps.” Ignoring the fall of tangled, black hair that dropped across her cheeks and shoulders, she wrapped a fold of cloth around the stones. With practiced motions, she knotted the material to make a long-handled pouch.

Basq nodded to the messenger. He tucked the tray under his arm and touched the door.

“Now we will begin,” said Basq.

Eric opened his mouth. Before he could speak, a blur of motion cut across his peripheral vision.

THUNK!

Basq toppled to the floor. The Notouch whirled her pouch and swung it down. The stones cracked against the messenger’s skull and he fell in a heap next to Basq.

The door opened. Eric stared at the fallen bodies.

“Move, you high-house fool!” shouted the Notouch.