Sorcery. Of course.
Else said, 'I don't understand why you would expect me to cooperate. Why would I help my employer's enemies?'
The man farthest to Else's left said, 'Tell us about your life before you joined the force the Patriarch sent to rescue the Bishop of Antieux.'
Else suppressed an urge to remain argumentative. Maybe he was not supposed to be able. Maybe that was the nature of the sorcery at work here.
Else spoke vaguely of growing up in Duarnenia, a minor crusader principality on the southeastern coast of the Shallow Sea, on a small estate near Tusnet, well inland, just inside the marches where Chaldarean crusaders of the Grail Order remained constantly at war with the Sheard heathen of the Grand Marshes. He mentioned running away at fifteen, banging around from one minor employer to another, drifting southward. He offered no specifics. Mercenaries seldom did.
He included more detail about his service since joining the Brotherhood-sponsored force. The four probably knew all that already.
The man in charge told the others, 'Step outside, please. I want to talk to this one alone.'
The room cleared so quickly Else suspected that it must have been planned.
He kept his baffled face on. Just another dumb soldier, he had no clue. Though that would not work for long. His own men tried it on him, regularly, with limited success.
The man who stayed behind considered Else. Else studied the man back. This must be Ferris Renfrew. No one else would fit in just here, just now, would they?
He was about fifty, looked more Firaldian than northern. He had all of his hair. That was black, lightly salted with gray. It had no luster left, though. His eyes were small, brown, squinted, permanently suspicious. His lips were frozen into a pout, suggesting that he thought everyone was lying to him all the time. His nose was completely unremarkable. His chin was strong. His face was rectangular and weathered. He had excellent teeth, which was uncommon in Chaldarean lands.
“Tell me what happened in the Knot. The night your company fell foul of the bogon.'
'Sir? The what?'
'The attack. By the night monster. The thing is called a bogon.'
'There isn't anything to tell. We survived.”
'You saved the band.'
Else shrugged. 'That was Principatл Doneto. All I did was, I had a nightmare. It woke me up. It felt like something bad was happening so I woke the Principatл. That's all I did. He belongs to the Collegium. After that I was tied up with bad stomach cramps. He took care of the monster.'
'This wasn't your first time, though. Did it go the same at Esther's Wood? And Runch?'
Shaken, Else managed better than he expected. And even tucked away a curiosity about the mention of Runch. No bogon manifested there. He did not reply.
Renfrow said, 'There's a connecting thread. I don't know what, yet, but the more recent attacks must have followed because the first one failed.'
'Huh?'
'I know who you are, Captain Tage. I've been waiting for you for months. You haven't done anything you were expected to do. That ruction in Sonsa, that was a masterpiece.'
'Sir, you've lost me completely. You're not making any sense.' Else suspected, though, that the man was not just fishing. 'Who are you, sir?'
The inquisitor shook his head.
Osa Stile. That little bastard had not been able to keep his mouth shut.
Renfrow must be the man Pinkus Ghort remembered from somewhere else.
'It's possible you may not know what's going on. If I was to send you into enemy territory I wouldn't tell you everything. I'd let the touchiest parts wait till you'd survived making all your contacts.'
This felt more dangerous by the minute.
'Yes. That's it. They just flung you in, like throwing a snake into a campfire. Either they figured you could handle the heat or they wanted you to burn. Which was it? What did they tell you to do?'
Else kept his mouth shut, stared at the inquisitor like the man was raving in tongues, the way the al-Kobean dervishes did.
Else would not surrender his identity as Piper Hecht. They had no means of proving that he was not Piper Hecht.
'Lest you think you can bluff your way past me, I remind you that we've met before.'
'No, sir. Even if I was who you say I am. I'd remember you if we'd met.' Else spoke with complete conviction. It was true.
'I get the impression you really believe what you just said.'
'I don't just believe it, it's true. Who are you? Where are we supposed to have met? I doubt that you're the sort who volunteers to serve in the Grand Marshes.'
'Ah, no. No. I have to rethink this. There's a page missing.' For a moment he listened to something only he could hear.
Else concentrated on ignoring his left wrist. He itched terribly.
There was sorcery at work here … So many candles. They made it warm. He had begun to sweat. And the odor of candle smoke … There was another odor there, behind the burnt tallow. An incense sort of smell. Which would be why he felt light-headed. These naughty people were doing something to make him more pliable.
The inquisitor could not understand why Else was not more suggestible. He would be wondering if he had not made some grotesque mistake.
'Ah. I recall the circumstances. You're right. We haven't met. You were pointed out by a gentleman named er-Rashal al-Dhulquarnen, in the Palace of the Kings in al-Qarn two years ago. The wizard said you were leaving on a mission that could impact the balance of power in the east. If you were successful. Were you successful?'
Else tried to recall all he had heard about Ferris Renfrow. While mulling the fact that the Grail Emperor's people might have known that he was coming. Was that Osa's doing? Or had there been word from al-Qarn?
Why would Osa have been told?
'I have no idea what you're talking about. But I'm at your mercy. I won't argue.'
'We're at loggerheads, then, Captain. And if you won't be Else Tage from Dreanger, then I can't help Else Tage accomplish his mission. Nor will Else Tage be able to help me with mine.'
'What would you do for me if I agree to be this Else guy?' He mispronounced his own name. 'What would I have to do? On account of, if it'll get me out of here, I'll be the Patriarch's favorite daughter. Or any saint you want to name.'
Renfrow showed signs of exasperation. Nothing was working.
'There's something wrong here,' Renfrow said. 'Even if you aren't the man I think, you shouldn't be able to reason or argue.' He waved a hand. Smoke swirled around his fingers.
Else grunted an interrogative.
'Sit still.' Renfrow left the room.
The smoke and whatever else was in the air dragged Else down into unconsciousness.
Else wakened back in the lockup. He had the shakes and a headache. Pinkus Ghort and Just Plain Joe were there to nurse him. Joe had cold water. Ghort had a cold, wet rag and was mopping his face, soothing his fever.
Ghort asked, 'What the hell happened, Pipe?'
'They tried to get me to confess that I'm a spy. They used some kind of drug on me. It was in the air, like incense.'
Just Plain Joe asked, 'How could you be a spy? You weren't never been in these parts before. An' the only reason you ever was was on account of they brought you.'
Else finished a pint of cold water. 'Joe, I don't have any idea. Maybe you could ask them. All I know is, they want me to be a spy. And they drugged me to get me there. And, before I passed out, I was thinking that it didn't matter whether I was a spy so long as I told them I was a spy. I think I volunteered to be the spy if they'd just let
