An Exchange of Hostages (36 page)

All in all Mergau could understand no reason whatever for Chonis’s attitude, except for Fleet’s stubborn insistence on standing in Verlaine’s path at every junction, for no better reason than that the First Secretary was a Bench officer.

“Unless he can be proven to lack competence or psychological fitness, we dare not insult the Combine by reducing him to a post suitable for a man of lesser ability. Nor dare we insult the Autocrat’s Proxy by attempting to so prove.”

No reason but pure spite, she was certain of it.

She knew the First Secretary better than Fleet did. Verlaine was tenacious of purpose when he felt that it was to his advantage. If he could be made to see how valuable Koscuisko could be to him, Verlaine would go up against the Combine itself, and take his prize. Had he not triumphed over the Yanjozi nations, and forced their subservience to the Blaeborn precedents?

THE SELF-DETERMINATION OF ALL UNDER JURISDICTION MUST OF COURSE BE CAREFULLY RESPECTED. She could hear the ironic humor in his voice, with poison in the sting of it. ESPECIALLY IF FLEET IS TO BENEFIT — KOSCUISKO’S FAMILIAL DUTY MUST NOT BE COMPROMISED.

“Thank you for your understanding, First Secretary.” There was irony in Tutor Chonis’s response in turn. Mergau wondered if it would be as clear in the text as it was in Chonis’s voice. “The Administration had certain reservations concerning Student Noycannir’s ability to support her Writ, which have been addressed in a very satisfactory manner, with Koscuisko’s help. All can benefit.”

All except Koscuisko, who had not wanted to work on the Controlled List; who did not care to discipline his slave, who did not care for the practical exercises. But the desires and inclinations of so diffident a man were not worthy of serious consideration.

MERGAU IS WITH YOU, AS I UNDERSTAND.

How was she to put her Patron on notice that the matter of Koscuisko should be pursued?

“Indeed she is.” Chonis wouldn’t know what she was going to say. He might expect her support, out of gratitude to him for having found a way to see her through to her Writ. “Student Noycannir, please feel free.”

He was wrong if he thought that. The only loyalty that she could afford was to herself, and that meant to her Patron. At least for now.

“I greet me my Patron, and hope that all goes according to his wish.” It was a thrill in its own right to be allowed to speak on uplink. It was so expensive . . . “I commend me to him. And commend also Student Koscuisko to his attention.”

Chonis made neither move nor sign, but she knew that her point had been taken when Verlaine’s response came scrolling across the screen.

HIS VALUE IS SO GREAT AS THAT, NOYCANNIR? YOU DO NOT PRAISE LIGHTLY, IF AT ALL.

Because she was too jealous and insecure. At least that was what he had told her before.
A word of praise is a surer trap than any vice, Mergau, remember that.

But vice bound more securely and reliably. “So great and more, my Patron. It seems a waste to let this resource go to Fleet service rather than research, since he is so effective with the drugs.”

Verlaine knew what she was saying, his response confirmed that. RESTRAIN YOUR ENTHUSIASM, THOUGH IT DOES YOU CREDIT. KOSCUISKO BELONGS TO FLEET. YOU WILL BE GRATEFUL TO YOUR TUTOR FOR BENEFIT RECEIVED. TUTOR CHONIS.

“Yes, First Secretary.” Was it her imagination, or did Chonis sound a little worried?

I AM DEEPLY GRATEFUL FOR YOUR SUPPORT. I WOULD TAKE IT AS A PERSONAL FAVOR IF I COULD RECEIVE COPIES OF NOYCANNIR’S INTERMEDIATE LEVELS. IF YOU WOULD APPROACH THE ADMINISTRATOR ON MY BEHALF, I WOULD BE MOST OBLIGED TO YOU.

So that he could see for himself the action of Koscuisko’s drugs? It occurred to Mergau suddenly that Verlaine would see her own fumbling inadequacies firsthand.

“I will bring the matter before the Administrator directly. First Secretary, this concludes the material we wished to lay before you at this time.”

It would be worth the humiliation she’d suffer on being exposed before her Patron, if viewing the tapes convinced Verlaine to take Koscuisko for his own.

VERY GOOD, THANK YOU AGAIN. TRANSMISSION ENDS.

“Return to your quarters, Student Noycannir.” The Tutor did not bother to hide his scorn, now that they were alone. He had known what she was doing all along. He’d simply felt that he was more than a match for her. “You are scheduled at the Seventh Level in five days. Hanbor will let you know when we can meet with Student Koscuisko. Dismissed.”

Meekly she rose and bowed, meekly she left.

Tutor Chonis was in truth more than a match for her, perhaps.

But she had set her Patron on the scent.

Time would tell whether Tutor Chonis and Fleet Orientation Station Medical could hope to outmaneuver First Secretary Verlaine.

###

The table was laid ready with his rhyti; the driver and his other instruments were laid out neat and orderly for his delectation. Andrej set down the lefrols he had brought, stroking the smooth rolled cylinders of leaf with nervous fingers. Rhyti for now. Lefrols for later. Lefrols were good for the nerves; and he had a case of the nerves, an uneasy sort of excitement in his stomach built of equal parts of apprehension and anticipation. He was tired of watching Noycannir botch her jobs. He needed to let some blood himself, to make a point of doing it right.

His Seventh Level, the first of the last, three exercises to go after this one. He’d practiced twice a day for a week, intent on making a respectable trial of the driver. If he could manage it adequately well today, he would feel confident enough to take it to St. Clare for the punishment that was owed, whether or not the Tutor would insist on counting bloody craters as a condition of fulfillment of the contract they had made for St. Clare’s life.

He heard the signal at the prisoner’s door and lifted the driver from the table, enjoying the sleek cool weight of it in his gloved hand. “Step through.”

He’d had a look at the prisoner’s brief last night; he knew what to expect. This was a referral straight from assisted inquiry; the prisoner was accused, but had not yet been questioned herself. The fact that she was female was a little awkward. Abstractly speaking, he liked the idea of beating women even less than the idea of beating men, setting aside the fact that a contest between a prisoner and an Inquisitor could hardly be considered a fair match regardless of the prisoner’s sex or age.

On the other hand, Robert St. Clare was not the only man under Jurisdiction with a sister. Andrej had three or four. It was not quite clear which, but one of them at least would mock him mercilessly should he shrink from his duty simply because his prisoner was not male.

Mayra had been Lady Abbess since the day that he’d been baptized; she was responsible for keeping order amongst all the sworn-sisters in family prayer-halls. Pain was good for the soul, Mayra had assured him. Women required much more firm a hand than men did, because the female constitution was more resilient than the male. Women were born to bear children. Pain simply didn’t make as much of an impression on sworn-sisters as on brothers-dedicate, not as far as Mayra was concerned.

And this prisoner wasn’t even Dolgorukij.

She was about his size, and not too clean by the look of her. Andrej eyed the woman a little skeptically: it hardly seemed likely that she would hold secrets, let alone such dangerous ones that the Bench would spike the Levels to this extent. He would find out one way or the other, but he really rather hoped she did have secrets. It would be a shame if she would have to die for nothing.

“State your name, and your identification.” There was no sense in asking for the offense, not at the Advanced Levels. Generally speaking one had several from which to choose, and all of them actionable.

“I am — Davit, of the market at Cynergau. Of the People, Your Excellency.”

She sounded fairly beaten already, to Andrej. The People? They were all the People. Except the Aznir, of course, the beloved of the Holy Mother, and the executors of Her Sacred Will.

Well, if Davit was meek and submissive, perhaps he would just talk to her for a bit and see what he could find out about of her state of mind. He was reluctant to set the driver down, since he was eager to test himself with it; but there was no sense in rushing things — that was one of Noycannir’s problems. Andrej exchanged the driver for his rhyti and seated himself at the chair that was kept for him beside the table.

“Talk to me, then, Davit. Do you know why you are here?” If she was of a Cynergau lineage, Class-Four hominid, then she would carry as much muscle as a man of her race; something to keep in mind. Skin tore differently over muscle.

She shook her head, turning her face away. One of the Security moved her head back with a hand at the nape of her neck so that she faced him politely.

“No. Your Excellency.”

Surely she had some idea. “Really, you can’t guess? What do you imagine that it could be?”

“Truly, your Excellency, they came and took me away from my shop in the middle of the evening, and I don’t understand.”

Clearly she’d not been referred due to her intransigent nature. “There was a preliminary inquiry?”

She made a gesture as though she wanted to turn her face aside again. But she did not turn her face. She was being commendably careful, Andrej thought. “There was. Your Excellency. They said I was accused of harboring, but I didn’t understand. I told them so.”

And they hadn’t believed her, so much was obvious. Someone else must have given up information already. Andrej wondered what it was, exactly, that interested the Bench so much about this woman.

“Harboring, what did they mean by that? Did they explain it to you?”

Was he mistaken, or had she hesitated? “I . . . didn’t understand what they said, your Excellency, they said . . . No, I didn’t understand what they said.”

“Perhaps if you were to share it with me, we could an interpretation develop, between the two of us.”

The woman bit her lip and stood silent.

What she’d been asked wasn’t all that difficult. The prisoner’s brief contained the information: movement of suspected Free Government agents with forged papers through her shop. Andrej didn’t think she hadn’t understood the issue.

He did think that she was afraid to discuss it.

If there was no problem, she would not need to be reluctant. It was a simple matter, really, and easy to deny as long as one wasn’t worried about being caught in an embarrassing contradiction of some sort.

“You are not being candid with me, Davit. What are you hiding?”

She could be expected to keep shut to protect those dear to her. But it seemed fair to guess from the information in the prisoner’s brief that at least one of the people she was trying to protect had already given her up to Fleet to save himself. Herself. Whomever.

“Please, your Excellency, there has been a mistake. I don’t understand.”

He had his work cut out for him, and a driver thirsty for blood. It made him a little restless to be sitting here and talking when he could be at his exercise.

“I’m sorry. Your response is not acceptable.” Now she made a liar out of him as well. He was not sorry. He was too interested in finding out more about the driver’s capabilities against living flesh. He would do penance for the falsehood later. “Gentlemen, if you would do me the kindness of uncovering this woman. And then you may stand away.”

Discipline was to be taken with a bare back. It was better so, since Joslire had said the stroke would have to be repeated if it failed to break the skin.

As if an abstract interest in the skill were the only reason that he wished to use the driver. . .

The woman cowered away from him, trying to cover up her nakedness with her hands. For a moment Andrej hesitated. Was it not a shameful thing to uncover an honest woman, and force her guilt from her with whips and fire?

He didn’t care, not now. Not anymore. Or at least he didn’t care enough to lay aside the driver and walk out.

“Come now, we will discuss.” The whip snaked out, the snapper cracking in the air beside her head. She flinched away from it ungracefully; and Andrej followed up on the backstroke, marking her shoulder with an ugly stripe. “First, if you will, that crime of which you were accused, at your first interview. And so on from there. Am I understood?”

She would confess to him exactly what it had been that she claimed not to have understood. And then she would confess to him why she had wished she had not understood it; and then they would investigate the depth and the complexity of the understanding that she’d wished to disavow.

“Excellency, I don’t understand, I don’t know what they were talking about — ”

He caught her around the ankle and pulled it out from under her, tearing a bright red bracelet around her leg.

“Harboring, you said. And how were you to have harbored, and whom?”

It was pleasant to test the whip’s performance and find it so obedient to his desire.

“No, I have harbored no one, I am an honest woman. You have my documents, check my documents.”

He checked her lies instead, and made her gasp with it.

Nor did he feel he would be needing to have a lefrol for his nerves.

###

He broke her feet with the driver; and she crawled away from him toward the wall, wishing him in Hell for his suspicious nature. He broke her hands with the driver, much more delicate work; and she lifted her voice to her goddesses and invited all of Jurisdiction to be damned as well on top of him, as long as he were to be damned most deeply and most dreadfully.

He had Security lift her to lie on her back on the table with her hands useless at her sides, giving his lefrols — not forgetting the rhyti — over into the keeping of such Security as were not required to hold her to her place. He raped her brutally with the butt end of the driver; and she begged him to consider that she had borne children, and that her womb was consequently worthy of respect, not such ill-treatment.

The Security set her back down to the floor for him, and he beat her with the doubled lash until he knew from the trouble that she had in breathing that he had compromised her ribs; and she lamented for her children, the children born to her broken body, and the trouble that they were in, the bad and dangerous things they’d gotten involved with.