Sergei knew that to be a lie; the gardai assigned to the Archigos had subdued the man immediately after the attack and hurried him away before the crowd was even certain what had happened. “The people do love the Archigos,” Sergei said, more to the prisoner than to ci’Doulor.
“And hate those who would try to harm him.” He stepped closer to the prisoner, taking a kerchief from his pocket and dusting the seat of a scarred, three-legged stool near the prisoner. The man moved his head inside the cage, watching Sergei with his one good eye. “If I remove the tongue-gag, will you promise to speak no spells, Vajiki?” Sergei asked, leaning toward him.
The man nodded. His gaze was not on Sergei’s eyes, but the gleaming metal nose. Sergei reached around the man’s head and loosed the leather straps that held the device in place. The man gagged as the metal spring holding down his tongue was removed.
“What’s your name?” Sergei asked.
“Dhaspi ce’Coeni.” The man’s voice was pain-filled and hoarse, and the syllables-unsurprisingly-held the accent of the north provinces.
“You’re a Numetodo?” A hesitant nod. “And who sent you to harm the Archigos? Was it Envoy ci’Vliomani, perhaps?”
“No!” The denial was quick. The man’s undamaged eye went wide,and the chains clanked dully against stone. “I. . I’ve never met Envoy ci’Vliomani. Never. What I did, I did alone. That is the truth.”
Now it was Sergei who nodded. “I believe you,” he said soothingly, watching his sympathetic tone leech the tension from the man’s face.
He sat there for several seconds, just gazing at the man. Finally he stood, going over to a small niche in the wall. From it, he took a brass bar, as thick around as a man’s fist and perhaps two fists high, and satisfyingly massive and heavy. Both ends of the bar were polished and slightly flattened, as if they’d been battered many times. “I love history,” he said to the prisoner. “Did you know that?”
The man’s gaze was on the bar in Sergei’s hand now. He shook his head hesitantly. “Of course you don’t,” Sergei continued. “But it’s the truth. I do. History teaches us so much, Vajiki ce’Coeni-it’s from understanding what has happened in the past that we can best see the dangers of the future. Now this piece of metal. .” He put his index finger into a large hole bored through the middle of the bar; only the tip of his finger emerged. “There was once a large bell in this very tower.
The bell enclosure is still there at the top of the tower; you may have seen it when they brought you here, though I doubt you were much in the mood to notice such things. The bell was to be rung if there was a threat to the city so that the citizenry would be warned and react. Now, the bell itself has long ago been removed and melted down-I believe that the statue of Henri VI in Oldtown was cast from the metal of the bell; you might have seen it. But this. .” Sergei hefted the bar again.
“This was the bell’s clapper. You see, a rope went through the hole here, knotted above and underneath to keep it at the right height, then the remainder of the rope dropped down to the floor of the tower so that someone could ring the bell at need. And it
Sergei went back to the niche. From it, he took a short length of oak, rounded by a lathe at one end. He fitted the rounded end into the hole of the clapper, transforming the metal bar into the sinister head of a hammer. He nodded to the garda, who came forward and unlocked the fetters from the prisoner’s left hand. “I require your hand, Vajika.
Please place it on the stool, like this.” He held out his own hand, palm upward, with the little finger extended out and the rest of the fingers curled in. The prisoner shook his head, sobbing now, and the garda took ce’Coeni’s hand and forced it down on the stool’s seat. Ce’Coeni curled his fingers into an impotent fist. “I need only your little finger, Vajiki,” Sergei told him. “Otherwise, the pain will be. . far worse.”
Sergei moved alongside the stool, looking down at the prisoner. “I need to know, Vajiki ce’Coeni, the names of the Numetodo with whom you were involved here in Nessantico.”
“I don’t know any other Numetodo,” the man gasped. He tried to move his hand back, but though the chains rattled, the garda held it fast.
“Ah,” Sergei said. “You see, I believed you when you told me that you acted alone, because I don’t think even the Numetodo would be so foolish as to send a lone person on such a futile mission as yours. But I don’t believe you now. I can see the lie in your eyes, Vajiki. I can hear it in your voice and smell it in the fear that comes from you. And I’ve learned over the years that there is truth in pain.” He touched his finger to his false nose, and saw ce’Coeni’s eyes follow the gesture. He hefted the hammer made by the bell clapper and looked down at the stool where ce’Coeni’s hand was still fisted. “What will it be, Vajiki? Your entire hand, or just the little finger?”
The man sobbed. The smell of urine became stronger. “You can’t. .”
“To the contrary,” Sergei told him, his voice soft and sympathetic.
“I will, not out of desire, but because I must. Because it’s my task to keep this city, the Kraljica, and the Archigos safe.”
“No, no, you don’t have to do this,” the man said desperately, his voice rushed. “I’ll tell you the names. I met once with an older man named Boli and another one my age whose name was Grotji. I don’t know their family names, Commandant; they never told me. I met them in a tavern in Oldtown. I could show you where, could describe them for you-”
Sergei was still looking at the hand on the stool. “The finger or the hand, Vajiki?”
“But I’ve told you everything I know, Commandant. That is the truth.”
Sergei said nothing. He lifted the hammer, bending his elbow. With a whimper, ce’Coeni extended his little finger.
Sergei brought the hammer down with a grunt: hard, fast, and sudden. The blow crushed bone and flesh, tendon and muscle. Blood spattered from beneath the brass. A shrill scream tore from ce’Coeni’s throat, a high- pitched screech that echoed from the stones and Sergei’s ears before it faded away into a wailing sob. Sergei was always surprised by the sheer volume the human throat could produce.
He lifted the hammer; the man’s finger was flattened and destroyed, nearly torn in half near the second joint. He heard the capitaine’s intake of breath hiss behind him.
“There’s truth in pain,” Sergei said again to the man. The garda had released ce’Coeni’s hand, and the prisoner cradled it to his chest, rock-ing back and forth on the floor of the cell as he wept. “I’m very sorry, Vajiki, but I’m afraid I need to be certain there isn’t anything else you have to tell us. . ”
Sergei remained, asking questions until only the thumb of ce’Coini’s ruined hand remained untouched. Then he wiped the bloodied and gore-spattered end of the hammer on the prisoner’s clothing, and pulled the handle from the clapper with some effort. He placed the metal bar and handle back in their niche. Nodding to the garda, he and Capitaine ci’Doulor left the cell.
“He knows nothing of any use,” he said to the capitaine as they ascended the stairs.
“He named Envoy ci’Vliomani, there at the last,” ci’Doulor said.
“Isn’t that what you wanted, Commandant?”
“He would have named his own matarh then,” Sergei answered. “I wanted the truth, and the truth is that he was a fool acting alone. We have two first names, almost certainly false, and a tavern in Oldtown that was probably chosen at random. I’ll send out the Garde Kralji and see if they can find these men from the descriptions he gave us. But I don’t have much hope. I’ll speak with the Kraljica and the Archigos and tell them what we’ve learned.”
“And the prisoner, Commandant?”
Sergei shrugged. “Have him sign a confession. Leave the paper blank so we can fill in what we might require later. Then execute him for his crime. A quick and painless death, Capitaine. He deserves that much. Afterward, cut off the hands and pull out the tongue, as required for Numetodo, then gibbet the body from the Pontica Kralji so that all of Oldtown can see it.”
“I’ll see to it.”
“And to the birds?”
“The birds?” the capitaine said in puzzlement, then: “Ah, yes. In the dragon’s mouth. Yes, Commandant. I’ll
