[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.He sees me, makes no reaction.Hands me an extra shovel.I get to work.None of the others say a word.I’m back.But not for long.19Next time I meet Gendak, things get nasty.I know that something’s wrong when I see his face, even before I spot the chirurgeon standing in the room.There’s another Gurta here too, older than Gendak, hair silver grey, skin dry and cracked around his rheumy eyes.He’s dressed expensively, and regards me as if I were a particularly vile insect.A scribe lurks nearby, his quill hovering ready.The guards strap me in tight, as always, but a dreadful sense of foreboding grows in me as they check my bindings.This will be my last visit.After this, I’ll be gone.The Elder is coming next turn; the guards talk about nothing else.I can only hope that chance isn’t going to be so cruel as to stop me now.Then it occurs to me.Maybe they know about the escape.But by then it’s too late.I’ve been secured, and the guards have left.~ They let their women fight and die in their wars ~ the old man croaks.~ Disgustin g ~~ Very few, Magister ~ Gendak replies.~ This one is exceptional ~~ She is exceptional only in that her conduct is even more shameful than most of her kind ~ the Magister snaps.Gendak is clearly cowed.His expression is uncertain, remorseful.He doesn’t say a word, but he looks at me, and it’s like he’s begging me not to blame him for what’s to come.I don’t like this.The chirurgeon is preparing a spike.I can see through the glass that it’s full of some kind of liquid.Those bastards have drugged me twice already; there won’t be a third time.I begin to turn my mind inward, furling it closed, concentrating.A lifetime of discipline has given me exceptional control over my body, including the ability to resist and eventually neutralise most poisons.It’s one of the harder techniques of chua-kîn training, but it’s come in useful in my line of work.~ Your methods are entirely too gentle ~ the Magister tells Gendak.~ She has been playing for time ~~ I was gaining her trust ~ he protests.~ Such methods are slower but yield better results ~~ Nonsense ~ he says.~ She’ll trick you, lie, betray you if she can.It’s in their nature ~Well, at least he got that right.The spike is inserted into my inner elbow, and the drug spreads.It’s gentle, insidious: it doesn’t burn but it soothes.I can’t entirely suppress the effects but I can stave the worst off as long as I keep my chants going.My body is working frantically to cleanse me, defying the drug’s hold on my system.~ Give it a moment to work ~ says the chirurgeon, as he leaves.~ Then she’ll tell you anything you want to know ~So that’s it.A concoction to loosen my tongue.Well, fuck you for not having the guts to just kill me, because this won’t work, and you’ll never get another chance.Knowing what it is, I can concentrate on negating its effects.These kind of potions create a soporific blanket, putting the victim into a hypnotic and suggestible state.But my mind is anchored now, and though I feel like I’m floating in a dream, my thoughts are still clear enough to make out.~ Ask her ~ the Magister demands of Gendak.The guards stand by, watching me closely.He leans in, wets his lips, speaks.‘What is the name of your master?’‘Plutarch Nathka Caracassa Ledo, Magnate of Clan Caracassa, member of the Turnward Claw Alliance,’ I slur.The words slip out past my teeth with frightening ease.I tell myself he already knows.This is only a warm-up.‘Explain your duties as Cadre.’The scribe writes in the background; I can hear the scratch of his nib.I wonder what Gendak’s getting at.We’ve been over all this.‘Whatever my master requires of me.Information.sabotage.theft.Assassination.’‘Did you ever act as his bodyguard?’‘Caydus or Jyirt are his bodyguards.But.sometimes I do it too.When they need.At functions and parties.he prefers the women there then.me and Vala and Quaday.’‘And you are loyal?’‘I’m a Bondswoman,’ I say.He glances at the Magister, then back to me.‘I’m going to say a name.You tell me if you have heard it before.’I nod.My head lolls, not entirely faked.‘The name is Belek Aspa.’The faintest tickle of recollection, but so distant that I can’t hope to remember.I shake my head.‘You have never heard mention of this name?’ he persists.‘Your master has never spoken it while you have been nearby? He trusts you, he would not fear to discuss secret matters in front of you.’Now I’m curious.Enough to risk a query.‘Who’s Belek Aspa?’‘I am asking the questions,’ Gendak says.And he does.He asks me directly about the size of the Eskaran forces, about my masters’ intentions concerning the war, about chthonomancers and their Blackwings and how they power their craft, about Craggens and Ya’yeen and how they integrate with our society, about the mines and our technology and weapons manufacture.He asks me about our attitudes and beliefs towards the Gurta, he asks about fortifications in the Borderlands [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]