Reclamation

Eric bit back a curse. "Ambassador…"

Basq stopped in front of a sealed door set into one of the blocky module junctures. Haron had a number of special sections reserved for the really high-paying customers. More than one of them was cut off from public traffic to accommodate differences in environment or security requirements.

Basq faced Eric, tilting his head back until he looked Eric square in the face with his pale, round eyes.

"Beyond this door, you are in Rhudolant Vitae space, Sar Born. Our laws are operative here. Breaches of confidence, security, or duty will be prosecuted according to our laws. Because you are in ignorance of most of our legal system, you will be warned when and if initial transgression occurs. Before we go any farther, do you understand and accept this?"

Eric imagined he could hear the sound of his temper fraying. "Ambassador, I need to know what my assignment is before I agree to undertake it."

"Do you understand and accept the terms I have given you?" said Basq.

Eric gripped the handle of his tool case. This was just about enough. Someone was playing with his accounts until even Dorias couldn't get a message through. The Vitae wanted him for something possibly extremely illegal, which was all right, and totally unknown, which was not. Part of him said get back to the ship and get out of here.

Calm down, he told himself. I can at least find out what this is about. If I don't like it, I can still walk,

I'd like to see even the Vitae keep me in if I want out.

"I understand and accept your conditions," he said out loud.

The door slid silently open.

The corridor on the other side looked no different from the dock corridor, but it felt different. Eric's joints and i

Once his body finished the transition, Eric found himself savoring the feel of the new atmosphere. The gravity was heavy enough for him in here and the air was a little warmer and a little damper than the usual station atmosphere. In fact, it was almost comfortable.

Their footsteps made no sound on the metal floor. Eric could hear the lights hum overhead. If there was anyone else in this section, they hid behind the featureless doors lining the corridor's walls.

The corridor dead-ended in what looked like a small waiting area with three straight-backed chairs clustered around a square table. One more of the blank doors was set in the farthest wall.

"You can leave your kit here." Basq gestured toward the table. "It will be taken to your quarters for you."

To my what? Eric pulled up in mid-stride.

"Ambassador"—Eric kept the case in his hand—"this is well beyond the limit. I need to know what you want from me. Now."

"You will do as you are instructed for as long as you are instructed," Basq said.

Eric's frayed temper snapped abruptly in two. "Not for this treatment." He turned on his heel and started for the main door.

A wave of pain shot through the soles of his feet. He screamed before he knew what he was doing and crashed to the floor on hands and knees.

"You no longer have the option of leaving our service," said Basq before Eric's stu

Fury and confusion roiled inside him. Eric hauled himself to his feet, panting. The floor, he realized, must be wired somehow, but whatever had hit him had completely missed Basq. A dozen illogical insults and exclamations chased each other through his head.

"Why are you doing this?" he finally managed to croak.

"That is not your concern, Eric Born." Eric did not miss the fact that Basq had dropped the honorific.

Dorias, was this what your message was about? Was Basq the one who tried to erase it?

"You will hear your instructions now." Basq made an imperious come-hither gesture.

Eric took a deep breath and flexed his hands. He took one step toward Basq, then swung his whole body around and bolted for the door.

The pain toppled him before he was even halfway there.

His shoulders hit the floor and the pain seared through them. His teeth and eyes clenched shut and tears streamed down his face as he choked on his own screams.

The release was like a blessing. Eric lay where he was, unable to do anything to silence the sobs spilling out of him. With each degrading sound, his anger built. When he could finally raise his head to look at his impassive captor, he knew it all shone in his eyes.

The expression on Basq's face didn't even flicker. "This treatment will not kill you, Eric Born, but it will seriously traumatize you if you require it to continue."

Shaking, Eric got to his feet. He mopped the sweat and tears off his face. "What could possibly be this important to you?"

Basq moved to the door and traced a pattern at shoulder height on it. A portion of the surface cleared away to reveal a square of clear silicate. He stood aside so Eric could have an unobstructed view.

Easy. Eric made himself breathe deeply. Need to take this easy. I'll get out of here somehow and then this hairless barbarian better look to his skin. I just need time.

Eric bent down and peered through the little window, using the wall to hold himself upright. The room beyond was airy by station standards. A long table held a pitcher and an empty plate and a stack of what appeared to be artwork folios. Next to them were scattered the pieces of a partly completed woodblock puzzle. A sunken pool of water big enough for bathing steamed in the far corner of the room across from a thick sleeping mat. The corner to the right of the door was curtained off.

His fresh confusion barely had time to take root before the curtain drew back and a woman in rags and patchwork stepped out of the alcove. A strip of coarsely woven, black cloth hid her hair completely. A poncho made of greased patches covered a shapeless tunic of undyed cloth belted with a strip of worn leather. More leather strips bound her thick leggings and straw-soled sandals.

The woman glanced at the door and Eric got a full look at her face. Dark, calculating eyes slanted above her high cheeks.

The skin on her face and throat had been roughened by exposure to harsh weather. Her jaw had a determined set. She made no gesture toward him, however, and Eric decided this must be a one-way window.

After a moment, the woman shook her head and strode to the pool. She squatted down next to the steaming water and extended her hands. Jagged, white lines crisscrossed her dust-colored skin, making a pattern of uneven squares.

Eric felt as if he'd been struck hard in the chest. He remembered, all too clearly, when his hands had borne their own marks. His were elaborate blue-and-green swirls curling from his fingertips to his wrists. Bright, gold circles shone in the centers of his palms. He remembered how shaky they felt when he stood in the streets of Tiered Side with the night's freezing rain spattering against them and the Skymen with eyes like ice and milk told him he'd be free…

Eric jerked his head back to stare at Basq. "She's from the Realm!"

"We require you to act as translator and cultural liaison for us," Basq said. "Begi

He looked back through the window. The woman sat at the table now, fitting pieces into the puzzle. He squinted toward her hands, looking for a trace of gold on the palms. There was nothing, just bare, brown skin.

"But…" he began incredulously. "What do you want with a Notouch?"

Basq tapped the translation disk in his ear. "That term is not coming through."

"A nothing. A pariah." Eric searched for an explanation. "There's a caste system in the Realm. A strict one. "That"—he pointed toward the window—"is the bottom of the heap. They aren't even allowed residence in the cities. If you were looking for information or power, Ambassador, your contraband ru