The scene through the observation room window wasn't as bad as Medart
had expected. Or not as bad yet, he cautioned himself; it appeared
that Cortin was still conducting her preliminary examination.
What she'd called the third-stage room resembled, more than anything
else Medart could think of, a twentieth-century operating room, with
cabinets of supplies and equipment, monitoring machinery, even a
surgical table. But operating rooms didn't have chains hanging from
the ceiling, and patients weren't held spreadeagled, naked, between
those and eyebolts in the floor.
A couple of minutes after they entered, Odeon glanced toward the
observation room, raised a hand in acknowledgement, and said something
to Cortin. She turned toward them. "Colonel Bradford?"
"Yes," Bradford said, "with Ranger Medart and Lt. DarElwyn."
"If you'd care to, you're welcome to join me in here."
"Thank you, Excellency." Bradford switched off the intercom and turned
to the others, looking surprised. "That's a first; she doesn't
normally allow anyone in there except Captain Odeon or other
Inquisitors. The disadvantage is that you can't avoid her prisoner's
screams by shutting off the intercom."
"Even so," Medart said thoughtfully, "if an invitation's that rare, we
ought to accept."
The three entered the larger room, which smelled of antiseptic--rather
to Medart's bemusement. Why should Cortin care about infection in
people she was torturing to death? He kept that question to himself,
though.
"The interview went all right?" Cortin asked.
"Quite well," Bradford replied. "I'll get the operation moving as soon
as I get back to my office."
"Good--thanks, both of you." Cortin turned back to her prisoner, still
addressing the observers. "This one's nothing special, except in the
number of his crimes and the fact that he wanted witnesses until he got
to the last victim in each series. It was the rapes that were his
particular thrill; the murders were enjoyable, but more of a side
effect. So I'll be concentrating on the punishment for rape."
Medart tried not to pay too close attention to what she went on to do,
sometimes with Odeon's assistance. He had to learn about this
culture's less pleasant aspects as well as its more enjoyable ones, and
he definitely had to learn all he could about Cortin herself; that
didn't mean he had to like, or even approve of, what he found out.
This was one of those things. Medart couldn't reasonably argue against
the criminal's execution; most societies, the Empire included, had
death penalties for some crimes, and Medart himself had ordered or
carried out a few. Those, though, had been quick; Imperial justice
didn't demand vengeance.
Kingdoms justice did, and by the time Bradford left a few minutes
later, Medart had no doubt Cortin enjoyed exacting that vengeance.
Before he had to raise his mind-shield to protect himself from the
criminal's pain, Medart got the feelings both she and Odeon were
broadcasting. Odeon didn't like the work; he helped only because he
loved Cortin, and there were things her own torture and maiming by the
Brothers had left her physically unable to do, until Jeshua, and later
Shayan, had healed those injuries. Medart caught a strong
visualization of a seriously injured Cortin before Odeon forced his
thoughts away from that subject.
After that image, Medart was surprised to find no trace of personal
revenge in Cortin's broadcast. She was determined to exact vengeance,
yes, but as she'd said, on behalf of the criminal's victims and their
families. She got considerable pleasure out of it, but again it wasn't
the type Medart would have expected. There was no sadism involved;
what he felt from her was, in a sense, worse. Her emotions in causing
the most prolonged and agonizing death possible were intellectual--the
pride in skill and workmanship of any professional doing a challenging
job to the best of @'s ability. As for the healing--Medart frowned
to himself at that. Odeon seemed like the practical sort, yet he was
firmly convinced that God and the Devil had cured Cortin. He'd have to
get one of them past that reluctance to talk about religion, and given
their differing attitudes, Odeon would be the one to work with. Later.
Keith, unlike Odeon and Medart, seemed to have a true appreciation of
Cortin's intent and ability. Not, Medart told himself, that that was
really unexpected; Sandemans considered it perfectly honorable to
torture a captured enemy for information, and certain offenses against
honor or custom demanded the offender's lingering death. But they were
more direct about it; a beating was the usual method.
That, bloody as it was, seemed somehow cleaner than Cortin's cool,
meticulous precision. It was several hours before she was satisfied
with the prisoner's general condition: his entire body except the
genital region so bruised or abraded that even a light touch brough
curses.
She stepped back to survey him, then smiled at her audience. "That
takes care of the preliminaries; now we can get to the real
punishment." She went to a cabinet, removed a vial and syringe.
"This is eroticine," she said, forcing the liquid in the vial down her
prisoner's throat. "In small doses, it's a male aphrodisiac. In
larger ones, like this, it forces an erection and increases semen
production by several hundred percent. He has no way to stimulate
orgasm, so that is forced out by simple hydraulic pressure--quite
uncomfortable, I've been assured. This dose is oral, so he'll be that
way for about twelve hours." She picked up a syringe, cleared it of
air. "And this is algetin, a pain-enhancer that's most effective on
swollen tissue such as an erection. It's a combination I think
particularly appropriate for a rapist."
Medart didn't agree that an aphrodisiac combined with a pain-enhancer
was necessarily appropriate for anyone, but it was clear the Sandeman
did approve.
"An intriguing combination," Keith said. Moments later, when the man's
erection firmed and grew moist, he looked curious. "Is that wetness
normal, or is it a drug effect?"
The question was so out of character for a Sandeman that Medart was
shocked, but Cortin seemed to take it as a matter of course. "Neither,
Lieutenant; it's a side effect of the satyr plague."
"I see." Keith paused, cocking his head. "You said he can't bring
himself to climax, Excellency, and this does seem effective--but what
would happen if he did? Would it be a temporary relief, or would the
algetin make it as much an agony as it usually is a pleasure?"
Medart and Cortin both stared at him in astonishment, for different
reasons. After several seconds, Cortin said thoughtfully, "We're
cautioned against it in training, since it's presumed orgasm would
bring relief; if anyone had experimented and found otherwise, it
should've been reported in the professional literature. Since I've
never read about such an experiment, I doubt it's ever been tried--but
now that you suggest it, the idea seems plausible. If you'd like to
try, Lieutenant, be my guest."
"No," Medart said firmly. "He can observe, since this is within your
law; taking part would go against a number of the laws that govern the
Imperial military." He turned to the Sandeman. "What's wrong,
Lieutenant? You're not acting like any warrior I've ever
met--including yourself, a couple of days ago."
"I feel fine, sir--I'm just not embarrassed by his display, the way I'd
have expected, and I . . . admire Colonel Cortin's work, which I
wouldn't have expected at all."
Neither would Medart, because of both his heritage and the Academy
psych testing that weeded out people with such inclinations. That
meant Cortin's peculiar Talent was going beyond influencing Keith to
love her, it was giving him some of her personality quirks. The first
was probably due to his lack of mind-shield; the second, since her
Talent hadn't affected Odeon to anywhere near the same degree, was
probably due to the Sandeman tendency to extremes. Medart hid a sigh.
"Just how strong is this admiration, Lieutenant?"
Keith looked from Ranger to Inquisitor and back, his expression
answering Medart's question before he spoke. "Strongly enough that if
I thought there was any chance of acceptance, I would offer her my
fealty."
Cortin looked at him thoughtfully, then smiled. "If that means what I
believe it does, Lieutenant, you'd be in no danger of refusal."
Keith returned the smile, then acted on her promise and knelt.
"Colonel Joan Cortin, I wish you as my chosen lady, if that should be
your will. I offer all that is in me to give: body and mind, will and
honor, whatever courage is mine. And death itself may not deny the
service I offer, in whatever afterlife is to come."
Cortin extended her hands, smiling again. "I accept your service and
yourself with thanks, warrior."
Keith took her hands and rose, then bowed to her. "You do me great
honor, Thakur."
"The honor is mine," Cortin replied. "Are there any formalities that
need to be taken care of?"
"I'll handle those when we finish here," Medart said. "His release
from service, back pay and allowances--but it'll be up to you to notify
his clan and make arrangements for his tattoo."
"When we're done here, as you say." Cortin turned to her new sworn
man. "To give you a status recognized here, I'm commissioning you a
Royal Enforcement Service officer. Now, would you like to test your
theory?"
"Very much, Thakur." Keith paused, then continued apologetically.
"I'm afraid I don't know how, though. One of our strongest customs
forbids any same-sex physical intimacy. Since it seems yours doesn't,
that no longer applies to me, of course--but the fact remains that I
have no such experience."
Cortin chuckled. "That can be remedied easily enough, if you decide
you want to, but for your present purposes you don't need experience.
All you have to do is take hold of him, snugly enough to provide a
friction surface but not tight. The eroticine will make him take care
of the rest."
"That sounds simple enough." Keith reached for the prisoner.
Medart frowned as the Sandeman carried out his torture. It was hard to
believe anyone, particularly a Sandeman, could change so drastically in
such a short time. His mindprobe of Gaelan DarShona, thirty years ago,
had given him the experience of briefly being a Sandeman warrior, so he
felt, as well as knew intellectually, how deeply unacceptable Keith
would have found his present actions before he came under the influence
of Cortin's Talent. Seeing a man stripped as part of punishment was no
problem, that was normal Sandeman procedure for particularly serious
violations. But handling another man's genitals was enough to earn
death in disgrace if you lived that long--unlikely, since it was far
more likely to get you killed on the spot. And while warriors enjoyed
fighting, would torture for information, and a chief would inflict slow
death for serious violations of custom, they didn't get any real
pleasure from doing it. Nor would Keith have, earlier--but it was
clear he enjoyed what he was doing, now.
The Sandeman's smile grew as the prisoner's moves became faster, more
urgent--and he climaxed in a prolonged series of spasms, screaming in
agony.