Perilous Seas by Dave Duncan

to the tiny links.
    Rap
could only shake his head. His voice had failed him. He licked salt from his
lips.
    “This
one’s of dwarvish make, I think, but the imps use them in their jails.
They use them on their troops, too. Now I find that absurd! If a man doesn’t
measure up, kill him and find another-why mess around? Yes, this is an impish
punishment. Jotnar don’t use such barbarities. “ The gull-wing eyebrows
rose inquiringly.
    “No,
sir.”
    Kalkor
beamed. “Wrong! Aye, sir! Sometimes wanton cruelty is useful. One has a
reputation to maintain, after all. It’s messy, though, and best done
ashore. Find a suitable tree, tie the subject up by his wrists ... The men take
turns. The one who kills him wins. I have yet to see a man survive more than
twenty-two lashes, but he was a quite elderly bishop who didn’t want to
part with a minor treasure he had hidden away, so you might do better. Five
strokes would ruin a man for life, I thinkapplied with enthusiasm, the chains
will cut to the bone, you do understand?”
    “Aye,
sir.”
    “So,
faun, I am going to ask some questions, and you are going to answer. I am very
good at detecting lies, and every lie earns you one stroke with the cat-o’-nine-tails.
Behave yourself and I won’t hurt you. I may kill you, but it will be
quick. Now, are we clear on the rules? “
    “Aye,
sir. Sir ... may I have a drink of water?”
    “No.
First question: Who is king of Krasnegar?”
    “There
isn’t one. Holindarn is dead.”
    Kalkor
nodded, as if pleased-as if Rap was confirming Darad’s news. Kalkor had
not known, so obviously Foronod’s letter had never reached him.
    Had
the factor guessed what he was inviting into Krasnegar? Or had he seen Kalkor
as inevitable and just wanted to get on his good side as soon as possible? All
Kalkor’s sides were bad. Rap’s feet were starting to throb worse
than his hands.
    “Second
question: Describe Inosolan.”
    Rap
took a deep breath and weighed the agony of being flayed against the probability
that nothing he could possibly say could ever make any difference ... but his
mouth had started speaking already. Cowardice had a thousand disguises and if
it called itself exhaustion and weakness and exposure and don’t-matteranyway,
cowardice it was still. Nevertheless, he was not man enough to stop himself
talking.
    “Somewhere
between an imp and a jotunn in height. Hair gold ... darker gold than ... well,
that man sewing the boot? About that shade. Green eyes. Slim. She rides and-”
    “I’m
only interested in her body. Is she beautiful?”
    “Aye,
sir.”
    “Face
me while you’re speaking. Show me how big her breasts are. Mm. I like
them bigger. Is she a virgin?”
    “I
don’t know!” Rap almost managed a shout.
    Kalkor
chuckled softly, the sharp sapphire fires never leaving Rap’s face. “You
have occult farsight, don’t you?”
    “Me,
sir? No, sir.”
    “That’s
one, Rap! I warned you! One stroke. Can you control it, turn it on and off at
will?”
    “Sometimes,”
Rap muttered. Darad had the brains of a herring. He had talked far too much for
his own purposes. Like Gathmor, Kalkor would never willingly part with a seer.
    “It’s
not easy, is it? So you’re discreet? Do you love her?”
    “Inos?
Love her? Me? I was ... No, of course not!”
    “That’s
two. “
    “Two
what?” Rap snarled. The pain of those chains could never be worse than
the pain now pounding in his hands as the blood came back. And his feet . . .
Oh, Gods! . . . his feet . . .
    “Two
lies, two strokes.” Kalkor waved the whip gently, letting the chains
swing like a pendulum, jingling.
    In
his sudden, utter shock, Rap forgot the torment in his hands and feet. “No!
I was a stableb-” Oh, Gods! Love Inos? Kalkor shook his head wonderingly.
“You didn’t know? You hadn’t realized! How sweet! My heart
bleeds, my gorge rises. Rap, I’ll take back that `two’! I haven’t
felt so moved since the praetor of Clastral offered me his daughters.