An Exchange of Hostages (17 page)

Full contact, prolonged for perhaps so long as an eighth, mercilessly. Doing all he could to close his ears to the seductive music of Lussman’s reluctant cries. “ . . . in this manner. Well? Is that clear?”

Oh, Holy Mother.

It was going to happen to him again.

He couldn’t even see the Nurail’s face, and still he noted all the signs of pain with something too clearly different from compassion to be taken for reluctance to inflict the pain he had it in his power to promise Lussman.

“You are to answer me politely, Rab.” His own voice sounded rough and harsh, but Andrej knew what passion roughened it, and lifted his face to the cold white ceiling in despair.
Keep talking,
he told himself. Maybe if he could only just keep talking, he could put the appetite away. If he could not curb it or control it, perhaps he could pretend that he ignored it, and get through this after all. “You are to answer me ‘yes, your Excellency’ and ‘no, your Excellency.’ Lack of good manners offends me, Lussman. Do you understand?”

Lussman didn’t answer.
You have undone yourself, Andrej,
he thought.
Since you have asked, you must enforce an answer. And when you force his answer, you are going to enjoy it. You are lost. And since you have defied your father, you cannot so much as hope that your Holy Mother will raise Her divine hand to succor you.
He set the shockrod to the bottom of Lussman’s foot once more, seeking the nerve that would respond best to the noxious stimulus almost despite himself. Touching the naked soles of Lussman’s feet, first one, then the other, rolling the impulse end of the torture tool against the small bones, hesitatingly at first, then with increasing assurance and deliberation. The sound of Lussman’s pain was more than he could find it in himself to resist. It was lovely. It was sweet. He wanted more.

“Yes. Your Excellency.”

“Your name is?”

“Rab Lussman. Your Excellency.”

Andrej felt his face warm with a flush of gratification, his pleasure redoubled because he took it against Lussman’s will. “And you are accused of willful destruction of Jurisdiction property, yes? Have you committed this crime?”

This was the second day of Lussman’s interrogation. Cumulative pain and stress should have begun to seriously cloud Lussman’s judgment. Andrej could almost sense Lussman’s confusion of mind as he struggled with the deliberately incriminating phrasing of Andrej’s demand.

“Yes, your Excellency. No — ”

He couldn’t let Lussman finish, not if his plan was to work. He set the shockrod against his prisoner’s foot and smiled as he heard Lussman’s cry of agony.

“Very good. You have confessed to having committed the crime for which you have been arrested.” Not really, no. But the Writ did not require that he play fair, as long as he got something out of it that could be considered close to a confession. Shifting his weight and rising, Andrej gave the rope a savage jerk, and Lussman struggled to his feet with his breath rattling painfully in his throat. “There remain only the details to be determined. How many of your family were involved, then? All?”

He shouldn’t be asking Lussman questions like that. He wanted Lussman to submit to him, to answer his questions and make his confession. He wasn’t going to get very far with the line he was taking. Wasn’t such an accusation all but guaranteed to evoke the utmost resistance from his client?

He had to be clear in his own mind or he would surely only confuse the issue in the mind of the prisoner. It was reasonable to expect Lussman to become increasingly anxious to understand what Andrej wanted, increasingly eager to supply whatever was required. Lussman wasn’t going to be able to do that unless Andrej gave him a clearer idea of what the requirement actually was. Andrej knew what the requirement was. He required Lussman’s pain, and then Lussman’s submission. But he wanted Lussman’s pain more than Lussman’s answers. “Talk to me, Rab. Tell me about your crime.”

“Excellency, I am not guilty of . . . the crime . . . ” Andrej twisted the rope savagely yet again, and Lussman’s protest rattled into strangled incoherence.

It wasn’t fair to Lussman to approach him in this manner; he wasn’t being candid. Why should he hurry Lussman to confessing when all that meant was that punishment would follow? Because since punishment was to follow, it could not be decent, fair, nor just to seek ways in which he could prolong the punishment that Lussman was to have before confession. One way or the other, Lussman had little chance of understanding what he was expected to confess as long as Andrej continued to communicate such mixed and contradictory signals to the man.

“No, I won’t have it,” he warned, and let some slack out at Lussman’s throat. “You are accused of willful destruction of Jurisdiction property, and I mean to have details, I tell you.”

He would be master here, whether it meant he soil himself or not.

He had no choice.

###

“I don’t believe I find that answer acceptable, Lussman.” The shockrod had gotten dirty during the past hours, and there was blood on his uniform where he’d brushed it against his trouser leg in passing. “Let’s try it again. I’m getting tired of your childish stubbornness.”

The prisoner lay on his belly on the floor, moving one foot in little irregular spasms — as if there was some corner of Lussman’s mind that thought that he could get away, if he could only manage to move. As if he couldn’t stop himself from hoping that there was some place to which he would be permitted to escape. Andrej knelt at Lussman’s side, quite close, and let his knee rest casually against the swollen mess that yesterday’s trauma and today’s punishment had made of the young man’s shoulder. “You are to tell me why you chose the site — who helped you? Who was it that decided your target?”

Lussman was afraid, Andrej could hear it in his voice. “Excellency. Innocent. Of the crimes . . . accused . . . ” It was only reasonable to be afraid, but Andrej wasn’t going to put his weight against so obvious a target. Yet.

“You have already confessed to the crime, it is only a question of the details. What sense is there in further resistance?”

With a surprisingly determined effort Lussman moved, shifting away from Andrej where he knelt. Andrej knew how much it had to hurt Lussman to move; all in all, Lussman was clearly courageous, of strong will and determined temperament. It was really a shame that such a man should be sacrificed to the Judicial order; but — since so much was preordained — the least he could do was see that Lussman completed his confession before too much more blood was spilled. Or deeper blood was spilled, at any rate. Perhaps he would be offered a contract as bond-involuntary, a strong young man, physically fit, of such admirable strength of character. . .

“Not true. Innocent. Have not. Committed, any. Such crime . . . ”

Lussman’s voice dried up in his throat as Andrej leaned over him. Steadying himself with one hand pressed against Lussman’s back, now, Andrej reached across his body to take a jugular pulse, wondering where that thought had come from. The Bond was only offered to Accused prior to Intermediate Level Inquiry, and then only when Judicial staff had evaluated the candidate and found him suitable. If Lussman had been qualified for the Bond, he would have been offered one before now, and then been subjected to the implant of a governor whether he had agreed to it or not. Rab Lussman was not going to be offered any Bond.

“This has gone on quite long enough. Really, I am becoming bored.” Perhaps eight hours, perhaps longer, and he had confused his prisoner and tormented him, troubled him with half-true accusations and tortured him with a rope and a shockrod and a keen sense of where it hurt — and Lussman would not surrender. Oh, the appearance of a confession had been approximated, by trickery — the doubled question that could not be answered without incrimination. It was a dirty technique, and Andrej had never forgotten his fury at the confessor who had tried it on him. But it worked — or at least it worked here, where the prisoner could not storm out of the confessional in righteous outrage. Here, where Andrej would be encouraged by his Tutor in his duplicity instead of disciplined by his ecclesiastical superiors for trying to manipulate a Koscuisko prince so crudely — instead of in the more traditional, time-honored ways.

So the forms could be completed.

But Lussman had not given in.

His throat was scraped bloody from the pressure of the coarse rope, the trauma of yesterday’s beating renewed and doubled by the shockrod, his shoulder red and furious with the insult, and his face white and glistening with the sweat of his pain-but Lussman would not give in. And Andrej wanted his surrender, wanted it, quite apart from the forms and the requirements, quite apart from his respect for his prisoner’s courage and strength of will.

He was Koscuisko, and he would have dominion.

He set his knee firmly against Lussman’s injured shoulder and put his weight full on the crippled joint, leaning over to speak close to Lussman’s ear. “Aren’t you ready for a break, from this? — Because you shall have none, till you confess.” He said it half in charity, half with intent to deceive. “You’ve managed to defy me for quite some time, but there are limits to how much you can be expected to endure.” Which Lussman seemed both ready and willing to challenge, but that was beside the point. It was only a difference of degree, after all. “Be a little easier on yourself. Haven’t you suffered long enough? And for what? For whom?”

“Excellency . . . . Long enough?”

Lussman had begun to repeat what had been said to him in random fragments, without any indication that he understood what he was saying — as if he were drugged by shock, or by his pain. Lussman’s dazed repetition of disjointed phrases could be useful in constructing a “confession.” But this sounded like a real question, with real feeling behind it.

“Long enough to break for mid-meal, at the very earliest.” He had indulged himself to the fullest with the halter and the shockrod. He was going to have to graduate Lussman to some sharper torment if he was to keep the man’s attention focused where he wanted it. “I’ll have to send out for a box, I suppose. Perhaps Mister Sorlie Curran will be kind enough to go for me.”

The knot he’d set in the halter had pulled very tight over the past few hours. It took Andrej a moment to work it free. Lussman was too exhausted after half a day’s struggle against the rope to need too much managing, at least until Andrej decided what new treat he should go after. It was an interesting problem, given his options, his opportunities. Unless Lussman disappointed him by capitulating too soon, of course.

“Mid-meal, Halfway. Through the Fifth.” Lussman sounded relieved, even through his evident suffering. Grateful. What in the name of the Holy Mother’s mirror could he be talking about? “Safe, then. All right — ”

Not only that, but Sorlie Curran was interrupting, and if Andrej hadn’t known better he could have sworn that Sorlie Curran was anxious about something.

“His Excellency prefers for his mid-meal the bread and cheese, or perhaps the greens with protein?”

There were undercurrents here that Andrej did not understand.

Sorlie Curran had not only interrupted him but had interrupted the prisoner as well, and Sorlie Curran, as a professional Security troop, surely knew better than that.

And while Lussman clearly seemed to have something on his mind, it didn’t sound to Andrej as though it was about anything that they’d shared throughout the long morning. Sorlie Curran was anxious — not obviously so, but Andrej had a lifetime’s experience reading the voices and body language of Household servants in order to find out what was wrong when he had offended. Andrej realized immediately that Sorlie Curran was afraid that Lussman was going to say something — or that Andrej was going to pay attention to something that Lussman had already said.

“Perhaps not quite yet, Mister Sorlie Curran. Return to the other side of the room, if you please. Immediately.” He wanted to be alone with Lussman. What had the man said?
Mid-meal. Halfway through the Fifth. Safe, then. All right.
This was almost as intriguing as Lussman’s agony, and Andrej had fed long and drunk deep of Lussman’s agony throughout the morning, and was not so avid for it now that he could not be distracted by this new development. Easing Lussman onto his back, Andrej carried his nerveless arms with the hands swollen from their bonds carefully to the front of Lussman’s body. Granted that Lussman’s back was bruised and bloodied; a little additional distraction might not be unproductive, at this point.

“That’s right, Rab. It’s halfway through the Fifth Level. It’s all right now. You can tell me.” He could only guess at what was going on, but with any luck Lussman would oblige him —

“Excellency.” It was a sigh of relief, almost of gratitude. Gratitude, again. “Begs leave to confess. To you. I have committed. The crime.”

And suddenly Lussman was willing to confess, was eager to confess. “Of willful destruction. Of. Jurisdiction . . . ”

“Why now?” Andrej could make no sense of it. “What do you mean by telling me this now, when I’ve been asking you about it all day long?”

“Begs leave to confess,” Lussman groaned, and his agony was clear and genuine. “Halfway — for Megh. Halfway, halfway through . . . ”

Understanding came to Andrej like a basin full of icy water in his face. Suddenly Andrej knew exactly what was going on; and the horror of it banished all the delight Lussman had provided him away, body and soul, and left him cold with certainty and outrage.

He knew what was tormenting Rab Lussman, or whatever the man’s name was.

He knew what was troubling Sorlie Curran.

He even realized why it had occurred to him that Lussman might be offered the Bond.

“Yes, halfway through.” He lied without remorse, without compunction. They had been lying to him all along. “You’re free to make confession now; it’s time. It cannot have been easy for you, Lussman. Do you remember what you are supposed to say to me?”

He meant to have verification before Tutor Chonis called the exercise. And Tutor Chonis would call the exercise the moment Tutor Chonis — watching, as Andrej knew he watched, from whatever review room or vantage area — realized what he was up to. Sorlie Curran’s attempted intervention had made that very clear. So he had, to act quickly.