Bill’s skin crawled, his neck hairs prickling. “Are . . . are you then a … a sorcerer, Lord Ahlee, to have accomplished so much in but the twinkling of an eye?”
Again, the warm, comforting smile. “Some might call certain of my skills sorcery, Lord Bili, especially my manner of willing you to sleep. But sleep you did, feeling nought of the pain of my surgery. It was barely dawning when first I came to you. The sun is now above two hours in the sky.”
CHAPTER VIII
At a little past the nooning, Komees Djeen, Vahrohnos Spiros, and a half dozen Freefighters had been laboriously interrogating the luckless Kreestofohros for some hours. They had had no trouble in finding a secluded place to conduct their messy business, for Morguhn Hall was far larger than most halls and its cellars were extensive and multileveled.
Equipment and instruments were another matter, however, for their morn’s labor was an activity seldom practiced in the Duchy of Morguhn, in recent years at least On the rare occasions that Thoheeks Hwahruhn had ordered such, the activity had invariably been conducted at the prison in Morguhnpolis, where a qualified professional torturer-executioner maintained a modest shop. But since Komees Djeen wished to conceal his possession of this prisoner, use of the professional or any of his tools was out of the question. Therefore, they had had to improvise.
Thanks to hearty applications of these improvisations, Kreestofohros would never again be whole or hale or handsome. Thus far, however, all that they had wrung from his shredded lips had been screams and moans, pleas and prayers, curses. Now he had again fainted, and the troopers were rinding it harder to revive him this time.
Spiros shook his head, frowning. “I like it not, Djeen.”
“What else can we do?” expostulated the old Strahteegos. “I know there’s a conspiracy and you know there’s a conspiracy, and it’s certain sure that Boy-lover Myros and that old gasbag, Skiros, are in it up to their dirty ears. But they’re too big to legally touch, without proof.”
“Now, I’ve known Hari and Drehkos all their lives and I don’t like to think that one or both is into this sorry cesspool of superstition and anarchy, but … I told you how all his servants mysteriously disappeared last night. Well, among the scum who attacked the boys, I recognized at least four bodies. They were all Hari’s people. One, who bore the mark of young Bill’s big axe, was majordomo of Horse Hall!”
Spiros’s eyebrows shot up. “Hofos, Djeen?” “None other,” growled the Komees. “So it becomes obvious that we have a more serious problem than we thought. If supposedly respectable upper servants of the water of Hofos and this bastard are involved, no one of the Kindred is safe in either city or country! This is another reason why we must know names, Spiros! Getting some answers from the tough nut over there is of utmost importance.”
“Admitted, Djeen, admitted,” Spiros nodded briskly. “And that’s why I so dislike what we’re doing. We are trying to perform something that we know very little about. If we’re not extremely careful, we’re going to take it too far and kill the prisoner. Then where will we be? Who will then give us answers or names, eh?”
Komees Djeen’s roar filled the large chamber. “Sacred Wind take it! What else can we do?” he repeated in exasperation. “Even if we could get him into Morguhnpolis and into the prison unrecognized, how do we know that we could trust Master Mahrios? After all, if he’s not a Kath’ahrohs, he’s damned close to it!”
“Let us send for that physician, Master Ahlee,” sug-gested the Vahrohnos. “Allow him to examine the man before we go on. And let us keep him by, that he may keep the Ehleen dog alive until we’ve broken him.”
The trooper sent abovestairs returned with Master Ahlee’s flat refusal to take any part in the proceedings, so Vahrohnos Spiros betook himself to the suite occupied by the physician and his retinue. He was greeted courteously; but as soon as he had indicated his errand and uttered his urgent request, the friendly, brown face became devoid of expression and the tone of the deep voice took on the hardness of steel.