Now, as the door to the cell clanged shut and locked behind Hal, the other came to life, rolled over off the bench on to his feet and walked lightly to the cell door to look out through the small window set in its upper panel. He nodded to himself and, turning back into the room, came soft-footedly to Hal, cupping one hand behind his right ear and pointing at the ceiling warningly.
"These Accursed of the Lord," he said, clearly, taking Hal's arm and leading him toward the corner containing the latrine, "they make these places so, deliberately, to rob us of all decency. Might I ask you, out of kindness, to stand where you are over there and turn your back for a moment… thank you, brother. I'll do as much for you, whenever you wish…"
He had drawn Hal by this time right into the corner where the latrine stood. He turned on the water taps of the washstand, triggered the cleansing unit of the stool, and drew Hal's head down with his next to the spouting taps. He wiggled the fingers of both of his hands before Hal's face. Covered by the sound of the running water, he whispered directly into Hal's right ear.
"Can you talk with your fingers?"
Hal shook his head and turned to whisper in the ear of the other.
"No. But I read lips and I can learn very quickly. If you'll mouth the words and show me enough finger-motions to start with, we can talk."
The dark-skinned young man nodded. He straightened up; and while they still stood covered by the sound of the water coming from the taps, he formed words with his lips.
"My name is Jason Rowe. What is yours, brother?"
Hal leaned close again to whisper in Jason Rowe's ear.
"Howard Immanuelson." Jason stared at him. Hal went on. "And you don't need to make the words slowly and exaggeratedly. Just move your lips as if you're speaking normally, and I can follow you easily. Just don't forget to look at me when you speak."
Jason nodded in turn. He lifted his right hand with thumb and forefinger spread slightly and the other fingers curled into the palm.
"Yes," he mouthed at Hal.
Hal nodded, imitating the sign with his own thumb and forefinger.
A few minutes later, when Jason shut off the water coming from the taps and they moved off to take flanking benches in another corner of the room, Hal had already learned the signs for yes, no, I, you, go, stay, sleep, guard and half the letters of the alphabet. They moved to that corner of the room that was to the right of the door, so that anyone looking through the window of the door would not be able to see what they were doing.
Seated as they were, on the benches at right angles to each other, they came as close as possible to facing each other. They began to talk, at first slowly, as Hal was put to the problem of spelling out most of the words he needed to use. But he gained speed as Jason would guess the word he was after before it was completely spelled and give him the sign for it. Hal's signing vocabulary grew rapidly, to what he could see was the profound, if silent, surprise of Jason. Hal made no attempt to explain. It would hardly help here to air the fact that his mnemonic and communicative skills owed a debt to the skills of the Exotics. Their conversation seemed headed at first in a strange direction and Hal was grateful that he could hide his ignorance of what the other was talking about behind his ignorance of the sign language.
"Brother," Jason asked, as soon as they were seated facing each other, "are you of the faith?"
Hal hesitated only a fraction of a second. On the surface there was no reason why any Friendly should not answer such a question in the affirmative; although what the other might mean specifically could be something very much to be determined.
"Yes," he signed, and waited for enlightenment from Jason.
"I, also," said Jason. "But be of good cheer, brother. I do not think that those holding us here have any idea that we're the very kind they're seeking. This witch-hunt they've swept us up in is just part of a city-wide attempt to make themselves look good, in the eyes of one of the Belial-spawn who's come visiting here."
"Visiting?" Hal spelled out.
He had gone tense at the last words of the other; and now, for the first time there was a touch of cold sickness in the pit of his stomach. The words "Belial-spawn" were words he had heard Obadiah use to describe the Others. It was too far-fetched a supposition to imagine that the Other or Others looking for him on Coby had traced the route of his escape and beaten him here to Citadel. But, assuming that they had indeed traced him, a spaceship piloted by someone more inclined to take risks on his phase shifts than the paid master of a freighter could indeed have reached the city here a day or two before him.
"So they say," Jason answered him with silently-moving lips.
"When did he get here?"
Jason's eyes watched Hal curiously.
"Then you had heard - and knew that it was a man, rather than a woman?"
"I…" Hal took advantage of his ignorance of the sign language to cover up his slip, "assumed they'd probably send a man to a New Tradition city like this."
"Perhaps that was the reason. Anyway, it seems he's been here in Citadel less than twenty standard hours." Jason smiled startlingly and suddenly. "I'm good at getting interrogators to tell me things when they're questioning me. I found out quite a bit. They call him Great Teacher - as the lickspittle way of their kind is; and they'll be planning to fawn on him, offering up some examples of those of the faith as sacrifices to his coming."
"Why should I be of good cheer if that's the situation?" asked Hal. "It doesn't sound good to me."
"Why, because they can't be sure, of course," said Jason. "In the end, unless they're certain, they'll delay showing us to him, because they're all like whipped dogs. They cringe at the very thought of his scorn if they're wrong. So, we'll have time; and with that time we'll escape - "
He looked almost merrily at Hal.
"You don't believe me?" he mouthed. "You can't believe that I'd trust you with the knowledge I was going to escape, just like that? Why do you think I open myself to you like this, brother?"
"I don't know," said Hal.
"Because it happens I knew the Howard Immanuelson whose papers you carry. Oh, not well; but we were advanced students in the same class in Summercity, before he left for Kultis to qualify himself for off-planet work. I also know when it was he went to Coby, and that he died there. But he was of the faith; and all his moving away from Harmony was to launder himself, so that he could come back and be useful to us here. You got aboard at Coby with his papers. Also, you've picked up the finger speech far too swiftly to be other than someone who has used it all his life - you must watch that, brother, while you're here. Be careful of seeming to know too much, too quickly. Even some of the Traitors to God have the wit to put two and two together. Now, tell me. What's your real name, and your purpose in being here?"
Hal's brain galloped.
"I can't," he signalled. "I'm sorry."
Jason looked at him sadly for a long moment.
"Unless you can trust me," he said, "I can't trust you. Unless you can tell me, I can't take you with me when I leave here."
"I'm sorry," signed Hal again. "I don't have the right to tell you."
Jason sighed.
"So be it," he said. He got up and went across the cell, lay down with his back to the room in the position he had been in when Hal had entered. Hal sat watching him for a few minutes, then tried to imitate the other man and stretch out himself. But his success was limited. The width of his shoulders was too great for the narrow bench; and the best he could do, lying down, was balance himself so precariously that a second's relaxation would send him tumbling to the floor.