Reclamation (34 page)

Iyal lifted the stone out of the scanner and turned it over in her fingers. This thing should be in the splicing room getting peeled apart a micron at a time. They should know exactly what was in there, how it was built, and what made it possible. Total, context specific, recall in a sphere the size of a small peach. Who’d need computers anymore? She could buy Kethran the leadership of the Quarter Galaxy with this thing and the woman it belonged with.

“You’ve been very calm about finding out you’re not what you thought you were.”

“I haven’t found out anything like that,” said Arla coolly. “The Teachers say I came into being when the Nameless spoke the word that is my name. My mother said I was split from the same word that made the stones. You say I came into being when somebody strung together some proteins in a laboratory. It doesn’t matter. I am still myself. My name is still mine. Only the Nameless can take that away.” She held out her hand. Iyal decided to take the hint and she handed Arla the stone.

“Are there … many people like you in the … Realm?”

“I don’t know.” Arla replaced the stone in the pouch and drew its strings tight. “I do know there aren’t many arlas, stones, I mean, left.”

“How do you know that?”

Arla’s mouth quirked up into a tight smile. “About ten generations ago, the Teachers declared them sacred to the Nameless and stole them. The ones that exist are mainly in the Temple vaults. I heard one very highborn Teacher say he’d only ever seen one set. So there cannot be that many.”

Iyal’s mouth was dry. There didn’t have to be that many. The Vitae were trying to lay claim to the world where they existed. What if the Vitae got their hands on even one more person like her? Or a single stone like the one she carried in her pouch? They’d jump so far ahead of the rest of the Quarter Galaxy in technological development, the labs would look like entrail knitters by comparison. There would be no catching them. No countering them in anything. They could have whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted it.

“Arla,” Iyal said. “Do you know what world it is the Vitae are laying claim to?”

“No,” Arla shook her head. “They’ve only given an astronomical notation. I haven’t got a context for it.”

“Arla, it’s the Realm. Your home.”

Slowly, Arla’s hand crept to her mouth. She pressed her palm hard against her lips, as if to stifle a scream, and her eyes squeezed shut. Iyal shifted her weight, uncertain of what to do, but in the next moment, Arla’s hand dropped back to the pouch of stones. She whispered something in her own language and swallowed hard.

“Got to find Eric Born,” she said, at last. “Got to warn him. Got to get back. Warn my family. Warn … warn everybody.” The fear that widened her eyes could not have been faked. “The Teachers and the Nobles are bad enough, but those Skymen? We’d never get away. How can the Nameless permit this?” She spit the question.

How can you still believe in the Nameless Powers, whatever they are?
Iyal wondered. Then she thought about the stones.
Then again, maybe I should start believing in them.

“We need to get you off the planet, fast. We’ve got eleven hours before the Director comes looking for you. Maybe the Unifiers …”

“No,” said Arla flatly. “They started the war in the Realm. They’re too much like the Vitae. I’ve been listening to their blather. They talk about conquest in terms of contracts and agreements. I must leave Kethran, yes, but I must do it free and clear. I must get back to the Realm, with Eric Born. Then, then I will figure out what to do next.” She smiled. “I have plenty to work with.” She laid her hand over her pouch.

“What you’ll need is credit.” Iyal forced her mind back to the practical. “Don’t want to risk a transfer to you. The Vitae have got to be watching me.” She glanced reflexively toward the door. “Eleven hours … I can get the Diet hopping, create a distraction while you get out of here … I might get arrested, too, and they’ll freeze my account … do you think you can get back to Perivar’s on your own?”

Arla nodded. “I know I can, but he told me not to return …”

Iyal waved her words away impatiently. “When you get there, tell him I said he’d better help you out or he’ll be answering to me. Tell him to give you a loan. Whatever you need. I’ll pay it back. Or Killian will.”

“I’ll tell him.” Arla got to her feet. “Thank you, Iyal. I’ll remember your name.” She spoke so seriously that Iyal could only assume it was a blessing or a compliment.

“I’ll get you back to your room so you can pack …”

“Pack what?” Arla spread her hands. “I’ve got clothes and shoes and my stones, and I need to hurry. The public transport runs all night, doesn’t it? Is there anyone to prevent me from walking out of the door?”

“No one. Zur-Kohlbyr will be holed up in his office for at least another hour, plotting.” Iyal undid the door’s lock.

Arla marched out without looking back. Iyal just watched her. When the door closed again, Iyal turned up the power on the old table’s comm board and sent a call out toward Killian’s ship on the Lous Division Lake, on the other side of the world.

He was sleep-tousled and bleary-eyed when he appeared on the screen, but he woke up fast as he saw it was her. His eyes went round as he read the grim expression on her face.

“Iyal, love, what’s happened?”

“Killian … I … I’m about to find where I left my voice.”

“Oh-ho?” he breathed.

“How do you feel about emigrating again?”

He paused for a bare second. “I hear the northern continent of Fresh Dawn has a very unfussy border policy. They need hands and heads.”

Iyal’s heart swelled. “Love you.”

“Love you.” His smile was warm as sunshine and almost succeeded in banishing the chill in her soul. “I’ll go hand in my leave request now. If there’s a shuttle in port, I can be back by ten in the morning and we’ll pack, all right?”

“All right.”

They said good-bye and cut the signal and Iyal was alone again with her four walls and the silence of an empty room.

“Enjoy it while you can, Zur-Iyal,” she muttered as she placed a request for a line to the Diet. “Enjoy it while you can.”

Paral wished the Witness would stop looking at him. Even though his gaze was fastened on the monitors and comm boards in front of him, he knew she had her attention fastened on him. He could feel it like a cobweb that had laid itself over his entire body.

Lines 89A and B checked and open for another six hours. Should send the update request for another four
… He forced himself to think about his job. He had to have the current resources inventoried and updated. He couldn’t think about the Witness at his back, watching every movement of his hands, every twitch in his shoulder blades. He didn’t have the energy to spare to think about that. He had to get the inventory done and try to find some way to get out to meet Ordeth without looking suspicious, without the Witness seeing an anomaly that could be traced to the Imperialists. It was vital that the Witness be seen to be the only anomaly on Kethran.

Even though the workspace was thoroughly secured and monitored, it held none of the private technologies. It was full of the same kind of consoles and transmission centers that could be seen in any busy clerical office on Kethran. Its security was so it could also hold a Vitae who was not an Ambassador.

It was necessary. Paral knew his lessons like he knew the subtleties of his Master-Ambassador’s movements. The Aunorante Sangh had been able to drive off the Ancestors because they knew too much about them. Such power could not be given away again.

That the Vitae had to hide themselves, even from the monstrous Shessel, struck Paral to the core and made it possible for him to plot under the gaze of his master.

If only the Witness would stop looking at him.

The monitor that watched the station’s plain, white antechamber beeped, and Paral nearly jumped out of his skin. His eyes flickered toward the Witness before they found the monitor. The door to the outside had opened and Basq crossed the smooth floor to tap the reader for the inner door.

Paral stood and folded his hands, ready for his Master-Ambassador’s entrance.

The inner door opened, making the Witness’s jade green robe flutter with its breeze. Paral made his obeisance and caught a good look at Basq on the way down.

Basq was not happy; Paral could sense it in the air around him, as palpable as the scent of vegetation and damp concrete that came in with him. Basq moved with the approved amount of decorum, but there was a quality to his movement that Caril had helped Paral learn to read when he first became Beholden to Basq.

“The Manager
ki
Maliad claims that the artifact is on field assignment and will not be recalled until she receives the supporting documentation of our claim.” Basq removed the camera patch from over his eye. The Witness moved forward, holding out her hand so Basq could drop the patch into it without doing more than glance at her.

Paral felt a brief flash of envy at the Ambassador’s control.

“This is most likely a delaying tactic. We cannot permit the artifact to remain in the hands of outsiders.”

Hope and worry both tugged at Paral. If Basq was so far wrapped up in the failure of his excursion to make such a remark in front of the Witness, he was not thinking clearly right now. But it also meant things had gone very badly. Paral suddenly felt how alone he was even more intensely than he felt the Witness’s regard.

“We need to contract satellite observation time to locate her whereabouts.” Basq sat in the chair in front of the trio of comm boards, but didn’t raise his hands to the keys. “Find out if the Gardens can be held accountable to the Diet for misrepresentation, possibly theft.”

Inspiration shot through Paral and, just for a moment, the cobweb sensation fell away from him. “A suggestion, Ambassador.”

“Yes?” Basq turned toward him so that Paral had to look his master full in the face.

Look humble,
Paral instructed himself,
and a little embarrassed.
“It’s not entirely proper. I have friends stationed at one of the observation posts. If I relayed the request to them, they might be willing to start the search before the allotment request comes in … I could post myself at the station and relay any information to you immediately …”

Basq didn’t say anything. He was ever mindful of the Witness, even more than Paral was. The camera set over her right eye gleamed even blacker than her skin. Paral’s palms began to sweat, but there was nothing to do but wait while Basq weighed propriety against emergency.

Just a little nudge,
thought Paral, drawing justification from Caril’s comments about how susceptible Basq was to prodding.

“I recognize this is irregular, however, Amaiar Gardens may attempt to transfer her, or she may desert the premises …” He let the sentence trail off.

It had been enough. “Proceed, Beholden.”

Paral made obeisance, partially so he did not have to look at the Witness. “Yes, Ambassador.”

Paral made his escape as coolly as he could manage. One of the station’s enclosed private cars waited out on the street. He had an hour to spare, maybe two before Basq wondered what had happened to him. It would take that long for Basq to put together the documentation for Zur-Iyal
ki
Maliad, in case he could find no legal discrepancies in her conduct and was forced to proceed on her terms. Paral could relay his improper request to the station en route to the Shessel Embassy. The plan was in motion. All was working smoothly.

He just wished he could shake the feeling of the Witness’s eyes from off his skin for one moment more.

“…
for when humans see freedom, they lose the will for slavery.”

Zur-Ishen
ki
Maliad, “Upon Leaving Kethre”

“T
HEY ASKED SPECIFICALLY
to be allowed to deal with you.” Shim, the Third in the Emissary Voice, stretched both secondary arms toward Kiv.

Kiv rippled and sagged and wished for his siblings. He’d thought himself ready for the isolation of off-planet work, but it was not so. The old-timers had warned him. The comfort of his children was not the same as having his siblings and nieces and cousins around him. Even with Ere draped around his shoulders, he still felt alone. Shim, a grounded priest, was a fifth cousin Kiv had never met until he had volunteered to hatch out his children on Kethran Colony. The relationship was not close enough to provide any security. It was frightening to realize he knew Human Perivar better than he knew the cousin in front of him.

We serve, and service has never needed the weak,
he reminded himself.
My daughters will understand these humans who live like priests and act like madmen, even if I never do. They will carve out lives safe from the possibility of bondage with them.

Among the human enclaves, the Rhudolant Vitae were particularly insane. The thought of them wanting to meet with him specifically was nerve-racking. The embassy environment, lovingly designed with its arched ceilings and varying textures in subtle shadings of blue and violet, was not relaxing him at all, because he kept thinking about Arla Stone, and about Perivar’s impossible promise that nothing would touch Kiv or his family.

“We have been in touch with our embassies on Kethre and on seven of the stations,” Shim was saying. “The Rhudolant Vitae are withdrawing everywhere. The matter of this planet is of the greatest import to them. We need to understand how it will shift the power balances of their ‘family.’ You may be able to garner some information about this.”

“I will …”

“Do my best,” finished Ere for him.

Shim withdrew three of his eyes. “That is all we ask, Kivere. They are waiting in the visitor’s chamber.”

Ere tightened her grip with her feet on Kiv’s back as he bunched his muscles against his inner trembling. They moved through the series of bubble-shaped rooms that linked the audience chamber with the visitor’s chamber. Perivar had once expressed his surprise at the fact that the Shessel, with their horizontal torsos, did not like long corridors, until Kiv pointed out to him that humans, in general, did not live in high-ceilinged closets.