The Two of Swords: Part 6 Read Online Free PDF

grace was somewhat overrated as a military virtue. “Leave it to me.”
    “Thank you,” Senza said with feeling. “And when you’ve done that—”
    It’s axiomatic in the torture industry that fear of pain, anticipation of pain, is far more powerful, therefore far more effective, than pain itself. Ninety-five subjects out of a hundred, they say, when shown the instruments of torture, will break down and start talking, if properly handled.
    She looked at the machine and sniffed. “You do know,” she said, “you’ve got that bit in upside down.”
    Five out of a hundred had to be different, of course. “And there’s a camshaft missing there,” she went on, “without which the stupid thing just doesn’t work. When they sold it to you, wasn’t there a manual or something?”
    Senza decided he liked her. “We didn’t buy it,” he said. “We found it in with a lot of other junk we took from the enemy at Beal Ritor.”
    “Ah,” she said. “That figures. The word
decommissioned
springs to mind. Your brother didn’t approve of torture.”
    Note the choice of tense. “Is that right?”
    “I believe so. For the same reason you don’t drink. Sensible people tend to steer away from things they may end up liking too much.”
    She had his attention. “You know Forza, then.”
    “I’ve never met him, if that’s what you mean. But the service likes to know about important people, naturally.”
    Senza allowed the broad grin to spread across his face. “The service,” he said. “I meant to ask you about that.”
    She looked at him, then lifted her hands. “Could you please take these off now?” she said. “They’re hurting my wrists.”
    “Not really,” he replied. “For that, we’d need a blacksmith, or at least a file or a cold chisel to cut the rivets. Besides, I haven’t finished with you yet.”
    “You’re not going to torture me, though. Are you?”
    “No,” Senza admitted. “Not with this lot, anyway.” He craned his neck to peer through the dungeon’s tiny window. “Nearly midday,” he said. “How about an early lunch?”
    Ten minutes later they were sitting on the terrace under the North tower. The garrison commander’s wife had had a lawn laid out and flowerbeds planted, and there was a table and two benches. Senza had ordered cold chicken and salad. “I’m waiting,” she said.
    “Sorry?”
    “For my apology.” She paused. He didn’t say anything. She went on: “An apology for abducting and falsely imprisoning a government officer. I know, you’re General Senza, you can do no wrong, but the least you can do is say you’re sorry.”
    He inclined his head a little. “No apology,” he said. “You’re not a government officer, I checked. They’ve never heard of you. It interests me why Oida should pretend you’re one. If you tell me that, we can dispense with the ironmongery.”
    She looked at him. “You checked.”
    “I check everything,” he said. “Particularly where Oida’s concerned, particularly right now. Pretty much everything else he told me appears to have been true – well, I’m waiting for confirmation on one point, but that may take a while. But I did catch him out in one lie. You’re not a political officer assigned to spy on him, but he said you were. On the off chance that it was significant, I had you pulled in and brought here. Answer my question and you can go.”
    She looked down at the manacles. There were red weals where they’d chafed her skin. “Fine,” she said. “I’m not a political officer. I’m Oida’s personal assistant. All right?”
    “How personal?”
    She gave him a tired look. He held up his hand. “All right, fine,” he said. “For that you do get an apology. Though, given his reputation—”
    She gave him a sweet smile. “Oh, that,” she said. “You know what they’re saying about him in Bohec? They say that while she’s asleep, he plucks two hairs from the bush of each successive conquest. His long-term aim,