Free Reclamation by Sarah Zettel Page B

turned his face away. At the same time, he was glad he hadn’t had the nerve to try to hold her himself. She would have gotten away, but not before they both had broken bones.
    Eventually, she slumped against the back of the chair, breathing heavily.
    “Arla Born of the Black Wall, look up.”
    She was too worn out not to do as he said. Her eyes drank in the scene on the view wall and the whole thing started again.
    It was a long, miserable circuit. She’d scream herself out, then get another look at the vacuum and start again. A couple of times she actually passed out and he had to get stimulants from the medical kit to shock her awake so she could start screaming and struggling again.
    She’s not going to make it. He leaned against the wall. She may be the most incredible excuse for a Notouch in the Realm of the Nameless, but she doesn’t have the strength to get through this. She’s going to go crazy, and then I’m going to have to … to …. He couldn’t make himself finish the thought.
    Somehow, though, by force of nerves or desperation, Eric didn’t know, she held on to her sanity. She lifted her head from the lopsided angle where it had fallen and opened wide eyes that matched the blackness of the void. She looked out at the emptiness. She did not scream. Her hands twitched but she stilled them. Her eyes stayed open.
    “Thank you, oh all Nameless Powers.” Eric rubbed tired eyes and ears.
    Without switching the view wall off, he cut her free from the tape. He summoned up the memory of his own breaking in. It lent him the sympathy he needed to extend his hands and help her to her feet. She accepted his support without protest, leaning heavily against him.
    “Bed,” he said to her, as he opened the spare cabin. “Sleep. Some more food. You’ve beaten it, Arla. Planetside is going to be nothing next to that.”
    She toppled onto the mattress and flung her arm over her eyes. Her wrist was a mass of welts from fighting against her bonds.
    Something that wasn’t contempt, fear, or caution turned over inside him. Eric opened up the path to his power gift and stretched out his hand.
    Her arm flinched when he touched her, but did not drag itself free. The reach of his gift found the damaged flesh in her and took hold of it gently. This was more complicated than breaking locks. Her body had already begun the healing, but he had to encompass that beginning in order to speed the process along. All of it. A missed step would bring infection, or worse. Eric’s vision blurred over and his heart began to pound in his chest.
    And it was done. He released her.
    Arla rubbed her smooth, clean wrist. “Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome.” He gulped air like a drowning man. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about that either. The Skymen have very strange notions about healers.”
    “There will be no word from me.”
    He smiled. “Sleep,” he ordered, and left the cabin.
    When the door shut behind him, Eric collapsed onto the sofa. He was shaking, and it was not from the adrenaline shock that normally came after a healing.
    What is the matter with me? Garismit’s Eyes, I don’t have time for this! He pounded his fist against his thigh. Get her away. Now. May the Powers bless Perivar for taking her. I’ve got to think. Figure out what to do next.
    His mind was not ready to let go yet. Instead, it gathered up all the memories of Lady Fire it could find and handed them across to him. He saw the quiet beauty in her face the second she had opened the door to her house so he could enter and heal her husband’s fever. He felt the touch of her mouth, saw the light in her eyes.
    He remembered the sweat and screams and blood that came with the birth of their baby. The baby that was dead and buried by his own power-gifted hands. Because that was the Law. That was what the Nameless demanded. Born of an adulterous union, its blood was untraceable. Such blood could be diverted by the Aunorante Sangh. It had to