Recognition (4 page)

I was desperately trying to follow this
mental exchange, with its Eclipsian words and ideas that were new
to me.
Crypta
. “Gifts” and “talents,” used with specific
and mysterious new meanings. Lady Ndoko had been introduced, with
great deference, as a
sibyl
. I guessed that telepathy was
an established concept here. It had not just one word, but a set of
words—
crypta, gifts, talents, sibyl
—to describe its
manifestations and uses.

This epiphany awakened something in me. Years
of denial, the only possible defense against so burdensome a
“gift,” had produced in me a habit of avoidance and dismissal of
the subject. Now I was intrigued, despite my earlier aversion.
“Could I be tested?” I asked eagerly. “Would you permit it?”

My voice sounded loud in the silence that had
followed the spoken explanations. The Terrans stared at me in
bewilderment until a couple of them got it. I felt their
incredulity turn into a sneaky kind of glee as they thought they
had found in me a new kind of secret weapon.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said, deciding I no
longer needed to conceal my abilities. “Every Eclipsian in this
room knew what I was doing before I knew it myself. This is one
area we can’t dominate here.”

But not even all the ‘Graven were convinced.
One said, “Why should we bring in an admitted Terran agent? Even if
she does have
crypta
, what good is it if she’s constantly
sending information back to them?”

I opened my mouth in indignation but the
Viceroy forestalled me. “What good is it?” he roared. “How many
Terrans have you known, Landgrave Singh, who possess genuine
crypta
? Whatever her motives, this is not a
gift
we can afford to refuse.”

The arguing among the ‘Graven intensified,
pounding my overstimulated brain with too many voices and thoughts,
pushing and penetrating, pulling and tugging me back and forth.
Dominic’s attempts to dissuade Lady Ndoko from making her offer
began to seem quite reasonable. I felt like one of the pack animals
I had seen at an Eclipsian market, handled and prodded by seller
and prospective buyer as they haggled.

Dominic picked up my thought, enjoying the
simile, laughing in appreciation—a screeching, unpleasant sound. He
strode into the center of the group, his hand moving automatically
to where the hilt of his sword should be, stopping at his hip when
he remembered that, in deference to Terran sensibilities, he and
all the ‘Graven had left their weapons at the door. I admired the
way he remained unruffled as made this inconvenient discovery.
“Before we continue this discussion,” he said in a low, threatening
voice, “has anyone considered asking Ms. Herzog what she prefers?”
He bowed in my direction.

Most had the decency to look abashed,
although the Viceroy and the Consul seemed unaffected. Everyone
turned to hear my answer. I thanked my defender, bowing my head and
looking down at the table, not daring to lose myself in communion.
But I knew what I wanted. To Lady Ndoko I said, “I would like very
much to be tested for
crypta
.”

My decision pleased most people, although not
Dominic, or Lord Singh, who thought I was a spy. All the Terrans
were delighted. They surrounded me in a claustrophobic huddle,
whispering instructions and advice.

Viceroy Zichmni broke it up. He approached
me, scattering the Terrans, and gave me a slight, respectful nod of
the head. “Forgive my unjust allegation, my dear,” he said, already
beginning to treat me as a relative, if not a friend. “I have had
to balance Terran claims against Eclipsian for so long, I forget
sometimes we are all human. It is kind of you to volunteer.”

I could tell his sentiments were genuine. He
had grown up a telepath among telepaths, had learned early on the
futility of pretense. “I’m hoping it will be useful for me, too,” I
said, with equal sincerity. A chance to learn something about my
gift was worth a little discomfort.

The meeting ended shortly. All discussion of
trade goods was shelved, displaced by this new concern. The only
question that kept us at the table was the issue of Terran
monitoring. The Terrans wanted at least one of their own to
observe. The Viceroy remarked that allowing one Terran into the
Sanctum of ‘Graven Fortress for testing was precedent-setting
enough for his lifetime. When the Terrans conceded the point in the
end it was because they felt certain I would record everything for
them. And if I did have any unusual powers, they would be the
beneficiaries.

Dominic bowed to me again when he left with
the others. He was only worried at my choice, not angry with me.
I shall look forward to our next meeting
, he thought to
me, one corner of his wide, thin-lipped mouth lifting in a cynical
smile. This time I met his eyes, gazing deeply before bending my
head to acknowledge his courtesy. It was lucky I was near a chair,
for I lost my equilibrium as the room revolved slowly around me,
and when I reached for the table my hands could not grip, but slid
off the glossy surface as if paralyzed.

I didn’t sleep much that night, and arose
early for me, which was fortunate; the intercom buzzed while I was
sipping orange juice and scanning the headlines on the holonet.
When I flicked the talk button the concierge said the police were
here looking for me. All I could think was that there had been a
screw-up in processing that retinal scan at Immigration. Were they
going to arrest me, or search my apartment for contact lenses? I
hadn’t showered or dressed yet, and I was ready to cry in
exasperation.

I switched on the video display and saw
Dominic. Never had I expected to be grateful for an unplanned
early-morning visit. Let the police try to get through him! “Come
upstairs,” I said. I remembered my nakedness in the heat, found a
lightweight shift to throw on, and opened the door.

Dominic entered, sweat shining on his face
and dampening his hair. He had taken my words literally and had
climbed the stairs, all fifteen flights. We were still struggling
with the language barrier, forgetting, in the joy of recognition,
to listen for the nuances. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Escorting you to the ‘Graven Assembly,” he
answered, as if it were obvious. A respectable woman, he explained
with gentle tact for the naiveté he found in my mind, could not
travel unaccompanied through the Eclipsian Sector of the city. The
“police” were in fact a squad of Royal Guards, the elite corps of
the Eclipsian military, and Dominic had appointed himself the
officer in charge, unwilling to entrust this duty to someone
else.

So I was to be arrested after all. “I can’t
go now,” I said. “I’m not ready, and I’m supposed to go to the
consulate first, to be briefed.”

“Don’t,” Dominic said. “If you come directly
from the Terrans, the ‘Graven Coalition won’t trust you. You won’t
have a fair test, or find out the full scope of your gift.”

“But what difference can it make?” I had seen
yesterday that this
crypta
made espionage, even lying,
close to impossible. “No matter what the Terrans may think, all any
of you have to do is read my mind. It’s not pleasant, but it’s
foolproof.”

“Living without skin,” Dominic said, using an
appropriately painful image. “That’s not completely true. There are
ways around it.” He left the thought vague, refusing to
specify.

“Maybe,” I said. “But I don’t know them, and
the Terrans certainly can’t teach me anything.”

“Trust me on this, Amalie,” he said. “I am
being honest with you, despite my own wishes.” He was as unhappy
with the idea of my taking this test today as he had been
yesterday.

It was only a few hours ago, at our first
meeting, that I had felt his eruptive loathing of Terrans.
I am
Terran
, I thought bleakly,
and he will never accept
me
.

Dominic blinked, taken aback by my despair
and the recent memory that had triggered it. In the confines of the
small apartment the thoughts flew between us with the immediacy of
imagination. He had already begun a process of mental evolution.
His love could not reconcile itself with the fact of my Terran
origin, and the stronger emotion was dominating his perceptions. To
him I seemed like a displaced person—not a genuine Terran, but a
changeling forced to grow up in an unsuitable world.

He smiled at my fanciful thought.
You are
the beautiful one the fairies take when they leave the goblin
changeling in your place
, he corrected my muddled analogy. “It
is for your sake I’m worried,” he pursued his argument aloud. “You
remember what happened yesterday.”

“Yes,” I said, recalling that frightening
moment, before Dominic had stepped in, when I had been treated as
merchandise, without a say in my own future. “What was that all
about?”

He waited a long time before answering.
Standing in front of him, tired of leaning my head so far back to
see his face, I contented myself with examining his black-and-gray
uniform tunic, while the reasons for his hesitation came through to
me. I learned that the Eclipsian rules governing behavior between
the sexes extend even to conversations, so that certain topics are
considered unsuitable for men to discuss with women; also that
Dominic had always upheld these distinctions of gender that pervade
all levels of society. But he is a soldier, with a strong sense of
duty. Knowing my innocence, and my ignorance of the situation I was
determinedly rushing into, he took on the responsibility of
enlightening me.

The twelve noble families were becoming
infertile, he explained, through generations of inbreeding in a
severely limited population. He spoke decorously, using inoffensive
language, while I read his more explicit thoughts in his mind, as
he tried to make clear what had happened over centuries. “We bred
deliberately for the gift, for
crypta
. Almost all
marriages were arranged, based on the strength of the gift and the
specific talent. If the best match was a first cousin, even a niece
or half-sister, it was acceptable as long as the children inherited
the gift.” He stared anxiously down at me to see how I was
absorbing this information.

I was lost in the deep, rich voice, the
counterpoint between the polished phrases and the rancorous
thoughts boiling inside his brain. These facts had a personal
significance for him, producing an emotional turmoil he was trying
to keep in check. “Yes,” I murmured almost inaudibly, not liking to
interrupt, and wanting to encourage him. “Yes, I see.” But I
didn’t.

“The ‘Graven are dying out, Amalie. Most of
us don’t seem to care,” he muttered, addressing unseen, absent
adversaries, before returning to the room, to me, with a warning.
“But a few of us still honor our heritage, our past, and want to
ensure our future. And all we know is the old way. A single woman
of childbearing age, with your obvious gifts, and from an unrelated
family, is a prize too valuable to relinquish.”

“But I’m an adult, a Terran citizen,” I said,
laughing as I saw where he was heading. “No one can coerce me into
an arranged marriage or force me to bear children.” The idea was
hilarious to me, like a fairy tale or a fantasy show on the
holonet.

“Amalie,” Dominic spoke sternly. “I don’t
think you understand what I’m trying to tell you.” At my silent
agreement he said, “We are legally adults at sixteen, men and
women, and yet most of us are married off by our families by the
age of twenty. Few escape it.”

“You did,” I said. We knew the intimate facts
of each other’s life; as with thoughts and feelings, deceit was
impossible.

“Yes, but it wasn’t as simple as all that.”
His voice was bitter. “And my value in the marriage market is not
so high.” I got a glimpse of his meaning, the tainted Aranyi family
history, before his mind shut down, impenetrable.

“There’s no need to worry about me on that
account,” I said lightly, to save him from further embarrassment.
“I don’t have a family.” Relief at his automatic acceptance of me
had made me silly, speaking without thinking.

Dominic frowned at my candid admission of
what on Eclipsis is a tragedy, or a deep shame. “Don’t you see?”
Frustration furred the edge of his crisp voice. “You want to
discover your gift, to master a talent you cannot control, do you
not,
cherie
?”

I nodded uncertainly.

“Of course you do.” Dominic had taken the
answer as given. “But you are asking the ‘Graven Assembly, this
group that has governed Eclipsis for centuries, that is losing the
respect of its people because of dwindling numbers, failing
families, incompetence and carelessness—you are asking those who
do
care to share with you that last real thing that allows
them to retain their hold on leadership.”

“But it’s just personal with me,” I said.
“I’m not interested in political power—”

Dominic let out one sharp crack of laughter,
startling in the small room. His voice, his height, his large,
fluid movements had all developed in more spacious settings.
“
Crypta is
power,” he said. “It is the ‘Graven’s only real
power. It is what sets us apart, above, allows us truthfully to say
that we are an aristocracy, the rule of the superior.”

I sank down in a chair, defeated. “You win,”
I said. “You don’t want me to learn your secrets.” Early morning,
no coffee; my mind was working slowly. “Then why did you come here
to escort me?”

Dominic knelt beside the chair, his face
severe with worry. “No, Amalie,” he said, “you have not understood.
What I want, and what you want, is not what others may want. You
must look beyond your immediate personal concerns in order to
protect yourself. The only way to have a true assessment of your
gifts is to be tested as potential ‘Graven, not as a Terran, a spy
or saboteur. But once you pass the test,” Dominic concluded
ominously, “what then?”