Sublime thinks he can out-stubborn him. Or flat don't care what happens to his cousin.'
Bo Biogna organized a pool. Whoever came closest to guessing the exact length of their captivity would collect. Even Bronte Doneto bought in.
Else often wondered why the Doneto he knew was so unlike the Doneto who had been sent into the End of Connec to help Bishop Serifs and enforce Sublime V's will.
'Why not ask?' Ghort queried when Else posed the question. 'What I'm wondering is, whatever happened to the bishop's pretty boy?'
Yes. Osa Stile vanished the day they reached Plemenza. Perhaps the Grail Emperor had found new work for him.
Else gathered his daring and, during a card game, did ask Principatл Doneto why his character seemed to have changed dramatically.
'You aren't even a little slow, are you, Hecht? You notice things.'
'I'm a professional soldier, sir. I like to understand the people I work for. These days you aren't anything like the legate we heard about when we first got to Antieux.'
'You're right, Hecht. But remember, the job isn't the man. I was fulfilling a role on behalf of the Patriarch. A role hung on me by Bishop Serifs, may that fat, corrupt moron roast in Hell for the harm he did the Church.'
One day someone came who was not the one silent servant they always saw. The newcomer scanned the nineteen prisoners. The seventeen who were not too sick crowded toward him. He indicated a man. 'You. Come with me.'
He had chosen Bo Biogna. Bo did not want to go. But the new face had not come alone. Three armed men surrounded Bo. They did not look reluctant to employ the tools of their trade.
'Go on, Bo,' Else said. 'If they intended to do anything awful they would've already done it to save on feeding us.'
Else told Ghort, 'I hope I'm right,' once Bo left.
'Made sense to me. You know they plan to use us somehow.'
Bo Biogna was gone less than fifteen minutes. The men who returned him took another captive away.
'Well?' Ghort asked Biogna. Everyone able crowded around. Even Bronte Doneto positioned himself to hear Biogna's report.
'I don't know. They took me down the hall to this room with nothin' in it but this long table wit' four guys who asked me questions. That they didn't seem to give a shit about the answers.'
'What sort of questions?' Else asked.
'Who was I, what was my job, how did I hook up wit' the Patriarch's army.'
'Why would they want to know that instead of something more operational?'
'Yeah, well, they asked a bunch of questions about all kinds of shit. Especially about that Brotherhood sorcerer. That Grade Drocker. An' about what happened in the Connec. Only like not about what, exactly, but more like why an' how. An' who really stirred things up. I think they gave up on me pretty quick on account of they realized that I'm a nobody who don't know nothin' about nothin'.'
The second man said much the same. Likewise, the third, though by now Else had the impression that the interrogations were tailored to their objects. Which suggested that the interrogators had a good idea who they were questioning before they started.
Pinkus Ghort was the fourth man taken. He was absent more than an hour. He returned unhurt but drained. He flopped onto his pallet. 'That was rough. In a nonphysical way. It's hard to keep everything straight when they ask you the same thing fifty different times fifty different ways.'
Bronte Doneto was curious. And worried. His turn would come. He was right there listening when Else countered, 'How so?'
'It was like Bo and the others said. Only there was more of it. They was infatuated with the notion that I know all of the Patriarch's personal secrets on account of I was like a pick-up captain in a half-ass gang of robbers that Sublime sent out. So what if I've never been any closer to the old boy than I am right now?'
'Did they threaten you? Did they try to bribe you?'
'No. And that was weird, too. I don't think they really cared what I answered. They just wanted to ask the questions.'
That bothered Bronte Doneto. Else asked, 'Sir? Have we missed something?'
'They may be using lie-detecting spells. If they have specialist adepts, our answers won't matter. What were the questioners like?'
Ghort replied, 'They didn't look like no kind of wizards. They was just soldiers. Guys used to getting their hands dirty. I recognized one of them from somewhere. The guy on the end, on their right, was somebody that I should ought to remember. But I don't know where from.'
More men went through the process, some for longer, some not so long. Just Plain Joe was away only eight minutes.
When Joe came back the soldiers beckoned Pinkus. Ghort protested, 'I've already been.'
'Then you know the way. Let's go.'
Ghort was gone a long time.
The soldiers wanted Principatл Doneto next. Things got tense. Ghort said, “Take it easy, Chief. It ain't that big a deal.'
'Why did they call you back?' Else asked after the door slammed behind the Principatл.
'Maybe they didn't understand me the first time. They asked all the same questions. I'm thinking maybe Doneto is right. Something is going on besides them asking questions.'
'It took them over an hour to get the same old answers you already gave them?'
'Oh, no. That part added up to only maybe twenty minutes. In the middle of it they all just got up and left. Like they went out for dinner or something. And didn't need to worry about me.'
'So you just sat there?'
'Well, I got up and wandered around some. I didn't go far. They locked the door.'
Bronte Doneto was gone for hours. He was exhausted when he returned. He had little to say. He sucked down a bowl of lentil soup, curled up in his blanket and slept.
His was the last interview of the day.
The interviews resumed next morning. The first man taken had gone before. He reported, 'They're up to something different. It was about religion this time.'
Else went third. He was not nervous. He could handle basic religious questions. He had been paying attention.
The room was exactly as described, featureless and brightly lighted. The smell of tallow was strong. Four men sat behind a table, their backs to a wall. One straight-backed, hard chair faced the table. The men did not look like professional inquisitors. The man farthest to Else's right might be a priest. He pegged two more as soldiers. The man between the priest and soldiers, though, was someone important.
The man to that man's right asked, 'Piper Hecht?'
'Yes.'
'Religion?'
'Yes.'
'Excuse me?'
'Yes. I'm religious.'
'What religion?'
'Why?'
The man Else suspected of being in control said, 'Stop that. Sit down, Hecht. Answer the questions put to you.'
'Why?'
A flicker of anger. Nobody else had been difficult.
His left wrist began to itch. He scratched. His fingertips tripped over the invisible amulet, which had begun to get warm.
