2.2 Foreign Far-Land (I)

It is inevitable in this world that if we wait long enough, something significant will change. The change for Katja came when the opaque plate in the door suddenly became transparent, and the face of a man appeared. "We require another blood sample," he said. Katja, who had been sitting on the bed and leaning against the wall, slid herself off and went to the door. The man was young, although likely older than Katja herself. He was not nearly as dark-skinned as the Syylven, and yet very far from being as light-skinned as the Ylfae, with large black eyes and short black hair that swept hither and thither over his forehead. The eyes were, somewhat to Katja's surprise, neither hard nor cruel. "Would giving another sample get me out of here?" she asked, somewhat awkwardly because she had to get herself in the mindset to speak in Samthyrian. There was a hint of a humorous twitch at the corner of his mouth, but he replied, "I am afraid that such decisions are not mine to make. But we are under quarantine, and it is certainly impossible to do anything at all without it." She acquiesced and a compartment opened next to the door, small and so narrow and light-seamed that she had somehow missed it in her inspection of the room. She put her hand in as instructed and held it until he told her he had enough. There was a slight tingle and nothing else. "I want to speak to someone about what is happening," she said pointedly as she waited for it to finish. "I will ask about it," he said. "I cannot promise more." The glass plate went opaque again and Katja returned to bed. Another meal came. Katja tried to talk with whomever it was who was bringing it, but there was no answer. More time passed,and another meal. Yet more time again, and a meal again. More time on top of that, and Katja went to sleep. When she woke, she tried to freshen up as best she could with the sink in the cell, and as she was doing so, the plate in the door became transparent again, and the young man's face appeared. "The Prince would like to speak to you." And the door opened. She was escorted out by the young man and four soldiers, which she thought was a more impressive escort than she quite liked, down a corridor and down another corridor, and through a heavy door, and then into a room with a table and chairs, in one of which a man was seated. Two of the guards stayed outside, two entered the room and went to different corners to stand, and the man who had escorted her sat beside the man who was already seated, motioning her to the chair across from them. She sat and examined her new acquaintance. Like the other, he was a warm golden-brown, with black hair and eyes, but he was more impressive in every way. His shoulders were broad and even sitting one could tell he was tall. He had an air of confidence, like one who was used to command, and his dark eyes were intense and alert. There was a slight hawkishness to his face, but only very slight, enough to make all of his features, and especially his eyes, more intense. He was handsome. Despite the lighter skin could have passed for Sylven, and he looked intelligent, and was presumably the Prince, so her day was perhaps improving. Both sides of the table were silent a moment as each side looked the other over. Finally the Prince, assuming that was who he was, said, "Tell us who you are." She wondered a moment what a Samar might do in her situation, then said, "As I have already told you, my name is Katja Ilkaiomenen. I represent the Tanaver Alliance. May I ask your name?" "What is your relation to the Parasite?" Katja looked him in the eye. "Who are you?" she asked, more slowly. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he leaned over the table. "What is your relation to the Parasite?" he said in a steely voice. "I do not know what you mean by 'the Parasite'," she replied. "I was sent by the Tanaver to open relations, in order to assist the Samthyrian Empire with the enemy, Symbiosis, that they now face. Who are you?" The Prince leaned back and looked at her a moment. "What is in the vials you were carrying when we found you?" "As I said at the time, they are supposed to contain a cure." "How does this 'cure' work?" "I do not know," she replied, "I am not a biochemist and had nothing to do with its development." Then, after a moment's beat: "And your name is?" He ignored her question again. "Our tests say that you are human, and that you have no trace of the Parasite in your system, but there are many anomalies, some of which we do not fully understand. Where are you from?" "I am from another place entirely." She paused "Another universe, in fact," wondering as she said it whether she sounded crazy. She put her sanest expression, or at least what she thought was her sanest expression, on her face. The Prince, however, did not skip a beat. "And how did you get here?" If we are bound to say crazy things, anyway, she thought, and then she said, "I do not know the precise details. I walked through the Gates of Death and found myself here." "The Gates of Death." "Yes." "Am I supposed to know what you mean by that?" "Since I do not know who you are," Katja retorted, "I have no way of knowing what you are supposed to know. But you have asked me questions and I have answered them. I am Katja Ilkaiomenen. I am a plenipotentiary envoy of the Tanaver Alliance, and I am so far not impressed by how you treat ambassadors. I was given, as a sign of good faith, a medicine that is both vaccine and cure for the plague you currently face, and a record of military intelligence that I was told your computer systems could access. And my question is still unanswered. Who are you?" The lips of the man who had escorted her noticeably twitched at the edges. The Prince's eyes narrowed again, and Katja decided on the moment that narrowed eyes made his face look decidedly less handsome and intelligent. There was a long pause, as the Prince's fingers drummed thoughtfully on the edge of the table. Then he spoke. "I am Paul of the House of the Hand of Steel." At those words, she caught her breath, because there flashed through her mind an image she had almost forgotten. It was from the dream she had had so many times before she had suddenly been rushed from home, the one which ended with her in a pool, looking up at the surface, through which broke a metallic hand. She took a deep breath. "I was told that I would be talking to the Prince. I presume you are the Prince?" "I am indeed the High Prince," he said gravely, although the other man's mouth twitched again. "Is there any way I should be addressing you? In stories where I come from, the address of a prince is always something like..." (she had to pause to think through the translation, because the correspondences in her head seemed fuzzy at this point) "...like 'Your Hightness'." "'Your Highness' is the usual means, among us as well. But outside of formal court, it would only be used if you or I had just entered, or if the occasion required special formality; otherwise, 'Sir' is most common. But in all honesty the protocols for ambassadors are archaic and little-used today; I do not know what they actually require." Then: "If Your Excellency would find it acceptable, I would be honored for you to join us for dinner." "I would be delighted, Your Highness," she said with what she hoped was a gracious smile. Then, with embarrassment, she said, "Would it be possible for me to get another change of clothes? I am afraid I have nothing to wear that's appropriate." "I do not know if there is anything much better," he said, "but I will investigate the matter, ma'am. I will also look into the possibility of better quarters for you, but this is a small ship, and we are quite crowded at the moment. In the meantime, I will have to ask that you stay in your current quarters." Then, to the other man, "Samuel, escort the ambassador to her quarters." And Samuel said, "Yes, sir," and he and the armed escort returned her to her cell. [1475]