“A man feels worthless. After that,” Robert admitted with terrible candor. Joslire knew exactly what Robert was saying; he’d felt the same, and his exercise had gone off without hitches. He’d never put it into words, was all. “They told me that Student Koscuisko pledged for me, else I’d have been put to it. I feel so useless, Curran. I don’t understand at all.”
The speak-serum could still be affecting him, yes, that was true. The questions he raised were no less pertinent for that. “He doesn’t feel you failed.” Joslire offered the opinion carefully. “Not from anything I’ve heard or seen from him. It was just bad luck that betrayed you, nothing more. I said more to my Student Interrogator than you did, Robert, but I was safe, because mine wasn’t Koscuisko.”
He’d said it to Koscuisko, he’d said it to himself. Only now — as he said it to Robert — did Joslire really understand how true the statement was.
“I’m afraid of him. Student Koscuisko.” Careful discipline was clear in Robert’s face, in his tone of voice. And still he persisted in laying himself open. Perhaps — Joslire told himself — Robert had decided that he could be trusted. He hoped that wasn’t it. He didn’t particularly want Robert’s confidence. “You can tell me if I’m being stupid, friend. It would be a kindness of you, really.”
“Well, all I can tell you is that he’s never laid a hand on me.” Fear was a reasonable response to Student Koscuisko, especially from Robert’s point of view. “The other Students I’ve seen turn like that in exercise have done the same to us as to their prisoners, more or less.” As if Robert should believe him, when he’d been so wrong about it before, when he’d tried to reassure the young Nurail with the claim — proved false so quickly — that Student Koscuisko was a fair-minded man. How could he expect to have any kind of credibility, when he knew so little of what really went on in Koscuisko’s head? “I’d be afraid of him myself, if I was going. But not because I was afraid of what he might do to me. Not that.”
The more he talked the less sense he made. Wasn’t that a problem?
Robert stretched, yawning. “I’m stiff as an iced fleece.” Whatever that was supposed to mean. “Are we allowed to go to exercise, Curran? I’ve been idle for too long. I’ll be of no use to anyone unless I get some practice in soon. That, what’s it called, that physical therapy, it can’t have done me any good. Didn’t hurt nearly enough, for that.”
Six hours in isolation, Tutor Chonis had said; but there hadn’t been any other restrictions, and the speak-serum hadn’t been expected to create any physical impairment. Joslire didn’t see why he shouldn’t exercise with Robert. There was an exercise area within the quarantine block, after all. And Robert had apparently worked his way past feeling useless to feeling merely less useful in the absence of recent training, which was a trend in the right direction.
“Let’s go, then,” Joslire agreed, rising. “You’ll be wanting to know how Koscuisko fights. He’s an interesting partner because of the left-dominance, you’ll see.”
You’ll enjoy the challenge, he wanted to say. He enjoyed the challenge, because Koscuisko was teachable, because Koscuisko had the instinct of a hunter in his body, quite apart from the behavior of his conscious self. But Robert might not ever train with Koscuisko once they got to Scylla. In fact once they left this station, there was no reason why Koscuisko should train at all, absent an order from his commanding officer.
Still, the more he worked with Robert, the better he’d know him, and the better he could report on Robert’s recovery to Student Koscuisko. And if he could reassure himself about the Nurail’s potential as a Security troop, maybe he wouldn’t mind not going with them quite so much.
###
Mergau sat tense at the Tutor’s table, trying to keep clear in her mind what she was doing. Uplink made it easier to concentrate; there were no faces, no voices. There were only the words scrolling slowly across the screen, carried on maximum power relay all the way from Chilleau Judiciary.
STAND BY FOR THE FIRST SECRETARY. IDENTIFICATION RECEIVED AND CONFIRMED. SECRETARY VERLAINE IS ON THE CHANNEL, YOU MAY GO AHEAD.
The words came clumped in awkward phrases, according to the quanta required to carry them. Tutor Chonis spoke slowly to avoid overburdening the voice verification/transmission series.
“Tutor Chonis, for Administrator Clellelan. Fleet Orientation Station Medical. And?”
She was grateful that it had to be spoken aloud. She didn’t have to worry about hidden information.
“Student Mergau Noycannir. Clerk of Court.”
RIGHT TRUSTY AND WELL BELOVED, I GREET YOU WELL. Verlaine’s habitual formula gave her face in front of Tutor Chonis, emphasizing her formal position at Chilleau Judiciary. I GREET ALSO THE ESTIMABLE ADIFER CHONIS, AND WOULD HAVE HIM CARRY MY GREETING TO THE ADMINISTRATOR, IF HE WOULD OBLIGE ME.
“At your request, First Secretary.” Chonis would never presume to call Verlaine by name in direct discourse. “Status report on the progress of the Term, with particular reference to Noycannir, Clerk of Court, Chilleau Judiciary. The better part of the Term is completed.”
Verlaine would have seen the first reports by now. He would have words of praise for her. Praise from the First Secretary meant power at Chilleau Judiciary. She wanted all she could get.
THE INTERMEDIATE LEVELS ARE MORE TECHNICALLY CHALLENGING, AS I UNDERSTAND. I TRUST YOU HAVE BEEN ABLE TO PROVIDE MY CLERK WITH ADEQUATE SUPPORT.
Else Verlaine would hold it against the Tutor’s account, and not hers. That was the implication. It wasn’t true, of course; he would be displeased with her if she should fail. But that was their private matter. In front of others, he would show only his trust and confidence in her, until she made a mistake.
“Indeed, First Secretary. They are more technically challenging, and the medical issues become more critical to success. We have been able to document Noycannir’s mastery of the Protocols, and her successful performance at each Level so far. She has been passed to the Advanced Levels. Administrator Clellelan has every confidence in her ability.”
Surely Verlaine would wonder at that, since it so clearly spoke of full surrender. And Fleet had fought him every step of the way in this matter of the Writ. Fleet would not want to lose Koscuisko to the Bench; Fleet would want Koscuisko for themselves — Koscuisko, and his skill, and his drugs. Especially his drugs.
I’M GRATEFUL FOR ADMINISTRATOR CLELLELAN’S CONFIDENCE, BUT CAN’T HELP WONDERING HOW HE CAN BE SURE. WE ALL KNOW THAT THERE IS A FAILURE RATE OF ONE IN SIX DURING THE ADVANCED LEVELS.
Well, no, she hadn’t known that. Perhaps Koscuisko would fail and be sent home in disgrace. Or else exiled to serve his duty time as the medical officer of one of the prisons, where it wouldn’t matter if he had no taste or tolerance for pain. Fleet didn’t care how many of the Bench’s prisoners died of neglect and lack of medication in prison. Except that she had no information that hinted that Koscuisko was at risk to fail in anything.
“Based on her performance thus far, we don’t anticipate any difficulty.” No, she had no trouble with the Protocols. Her prisoners gratified her with their submission and their fear in the embrace of Koscuisko’s drugs. It was no problem to torment them.
“And in addition. In light of the unique requirements of Noycannir’s Writ, special support is being provided. Specifically, targeted instruction from the Controlled List, and a custom-built library for Noycannir’s use in your service.”
There seemed to be a longer pause than required for all the text of the message to parcel through. When her Patron responded at last, Mergau knew that his interest had been engaged; and rejoiced in it, to have his help to discomfit the Administration.
CLARIFICATION IS REQUESTED, CUSTOM-BUILT LIBRARY.
Yet Chonis did not seem to see the trap. “One of Noycannir’s classmates has a second rating in an appropriate field, and is commendably willing to contribute his effort to his duty in more than one Lane. Student Koscuisko is creating a special set of qualified formulations e
specially for the support of Noycannir’s Writ.”
AND IT IS THIS WHICH SO ASSURES CLELLELAN THAT SHE WILL GRADUATE. KOSCUISKO. IT IS A COMBINE HOUSE, I THINK.
She could almost hear his voice, musing. Moving quickly, surely, inexorably to the same conclusion she had drawn from the same set of information.
SURELY YOU HAVE PLANS TO POST SUCH A PRODUCTIVE RESOURCE TO AN AREA IN WHICH HE CAN BENEFIT THE JUDICIAL SYSTEM MOST EFFECTIVELY.
Oddly enough, however, Chonis was not surprised by the question. “I have discussed the option with the Administrator. Unfortunately, Fleet feels that the political risk is too great. Koscuisko is prince inheritor to his House.”
What did that mean? He could not be reassigned? The prestige of serving under the First Secretary’s personal instruction was not great enough for such a man? Is that what Tutor Chonis meant to say?
NOT EVEN COMBINE GRAIN CAN BUY A FLEET DEFERMENT, CHONIS.
It wasn’t as if it would be asking Koscuisko to sacrifice prestige if he went to work for Chilleau Judiciary rather than Fleet. If Koscuisko worked for Chilleau Judiciary, he need have no duties beside Writ and research. Chief Medical Officers had a great deal to do quite apart from Inquiry. Surely a man would naturally prefer less complex a life to so demanding a position? It wasn’t as if he could set aside his Writ before his eight years were done, one way or the other.
Koscuisko had no taste for discipline. His Security could not possibly respect that in him. So Security would not make their best effort to protect him. Koscuisko would be at significant risk in Fleet unless he reconciled himself to demanding more professionalism from his Security than he did from his bond-involuntary slave Curran.
“Koscuisko is under instruction from his father to serve Fleet specifically as a Chief Medical Officer. Fleet deferment does not recognize any talent as exceeding the requirements of a cruiser-killer’s Infirmary, as the First Secretary knows.”
All in all Mergau could understand no reason whatever for Chonis’s attitude, except for Fleet’s stubborn insistence on standing in Verlaine’s path at every junction, for no better reason than that the First Secretary was a Bench officer.
“Unless he can be proven to lack competence or psychological fitness, we dare not insult the Combine by reducing him to a post suitable for a man of lesser ability. Nor dare we insult the Autocrat’s Proxy by attempting to so prove.”
No reason but pure spite, she was certain of it.
She knew the First Secretary better than Fleet did. Verlaine was tenacious of purpose when he felt that it was to his advantage. If he could be made to see how valuable Koscuisko could be to him, Verlaine would go up against the Combine itself, and take his prize. Had he not triumphed over the Yanjozi nations, and forced their subservience to the Blaeborn precedents?
THE SELF-DETERMINATION OF ALL UNDER JURISDICTION MUST OF COURSE BE CAREFULLY RESPECTED. She could hear the ironic humor in his voice, with poison in the sting of it. ESPECIALLY IF FLEET IS TO BENEFIT — KOSCUISKO’S FAMILIAL DUTY MUST NOT BE COMPROMISED.
“Thank you for your understanding, First Secretary.” There was irony in Tutor Chonis’s response in turn. Mergau wondered if it would be as clear in the text as it was in Chonis’s voice. “The Administration had certain reservations concerning Student Noycannir’s ability to support her Writ, which have been addressed in a very satisfactory manner, with Koscuisko’s help. All can benefit.”
All except Koscuisko, who had not wanted to work on the Controlled List; who did not care to discipline his slave, who did not care for the practical exercises. But the desires and inclinations of so diffident a man were not worthy of serious consideration.
MERGAU IS WITH YOU, AS I UNDERSTAND.
How was she to put her Patron on notice that the matter of Koscuisko should be pursued?
“Indeed she is.” Chonis wouldn’t know what she was going to say. He might expect her support, out of gratitude to him for having found a way to see her through to her Writ. “Student Noycannir, please feel free.”
He was wrong if he thought that. The only loyalty that she could afford was to herself, and that meant to her Patron. At least for now.
“I greet me my Patron, and hope that all goes according to his wish.” It was a thrill in its own right to be allowed to speak on uplink. It was so expensive . . . “I commend me to him. And commend also Student Koscuisko to his attention.”
Chonis made neither move nor sign, but she knew that her point had been taken when Verlaine’s response came scrolling across the screen.
HIS VALUE IS SO GREAT AS THAT, NOYCANNIR? YOU DO NOT PRAISE LIGHTLY, IF AT ALL.
Because she was too jealous and insecure. At least that was what he had told her before. A word of praise is a surer trap than any vice, Mergau, remember that.
But vice bound more securely and reliably. “So great and more, my Patron. It seems a waste to let this resource go to Fleet service rather than research, since he is so effective with the drugs.”
Verlaine knew what she was saying, his response confirmed that. RESTRAIN YOUR ENTHUSIASM, THOUGH IT DOES YOU CREDIT. KOSCUISKO BELONGS TO FLEET. YOU WILL BE GRATEFUL TO YOUR TUTOR FOR BENEFIT RECEIVED. TUTOR CHONIS.
“Yes, First Secretary.” Was it her imagination, or did Chonis sound a little worried?
I AM DEEPLY GRATEFUL FOR YOUR SUPPORT. I WOULD TAKE IT AS A PERSONAL FAVOR IF I COULD RECEIVE COPIES OF NOYCANNIR’S INTERMEDIATE LEVELS. IF YOU WOULD APPROACH THE ADMINISTRATOR ON MY BEHALF, I WOULD BE MOST OBLIGED TO YOU.
So that he could see for himself the action of Koscuisko’s drugs? It occurred to Mergau suddenly that Verlaine would see her own fumbling inadequacies firsthand.
“I will bring the matter before the Administrator directly. First Secretary, this concludes the material we wished to lay before you at this time.”
It would be worth the humiliation she’d suffer on being exposed before her Patron, if viewing the tapes convinced Verlaine to take Koscuisko for his own.
VERY GOOD, THANK YOU AGAIN. TRANSMISSION ENDS.
“Return to your quarters, Student Noycannir.” The Tutor did not bother to hide his scorn, now that they were alone. He had known what she was doing all along. He’d simply felt that he was more than a match for her. “You are scheduled at the Seventh Level in five days. Hanbor will let you know when we can meet with Student Koscuisko. Dismissed.”
Meekly she rose and bowed, meekly she left.
Tutor Chonis was in truth more than a match for her, perhaps.
But she had set her Patron on the scent.
Time would tell whether Tutor Chonis and Fleet Orientation Station Medical could hope to outmaneuver First Secretary Verlaine.
###
The table was laid ready with his rhyti; the driver and his other instruments were laid out neat and orderly for his delectation. Andrej set down the lefrols he had brought, stroking the smooth rolled cylinders of leaf with nervous fingers. Rhyti for now. Lefrols for later. Lefrols were good for the nerves; and he had a case of the nerves, an uneasy sort of excitement in his stomach built of equal parts of apprehension and anticipation. He was tired of watching Noycannir botch her jobs. He needed to let some blood himself, to make a point of doing it right.
His Seventh Level, the first of the last, three exercises to go after this one. He’d practiced twice a day for a week, intent on making a respectable trial of the driver. If he could manage it adequately well today, he would feel confident enough to take it to St. Clare for the punishment that was owed, whether or not the Tutor would insist on counting bloody craters as a condition of fulfillment of the contract they had made for St. Clare’s life.
He heard the signal at the prisoner’s door and lifted the driver from the table, enjoying the sleek cool weight of it in his gloved hand. “Step through.”
He’d had a look at the prisoner’s brief last night; he knew what to expect. This was a referral straight from assisted inquiry; the prisoner was accused, but had not yet been questioned herself. The fact that
she was female was a little awkward. Abstractly speaking, he liked the idea of beating women even less than the idea of beating men, setting aside the fact that a contest between a prisoner and an Inquisitor could hardly be considered a fair match regardless of the prisoner’s sex or age.
On the other hand, Robert St. Clare was not the only man under Jurisdiction with a sister. Andrej had three or four. It was not quite clear which, but one of them at least would mock him mercilessly should he shrink from his duty simply because his prisoner was not male.
Mayra had been Lady Abbess since the day that he’d been baptized; she was responsible for keeping order amongst all the sworn-sisters in family prayer-halls. Pain was good for the soul, Mayra had assured him. Women required much more firm a hand than men did, because the female constitution was more resilient than the male. Women were born to bear children. Pain simply didn’t make as much of an impression on sworn-sisters as on brothers-dedicate, not as far as Mayra was concerned.
And this prisoner wasn’t even Dolgorukij.
She was about his size, and not too clean by the look of her. Andrej eyed the woman a little skeptically: it hardly seemed likely that she would hold secrets, let alone such dangerous ones that the Bench would spike the Levels to this extent. He would find out one way or the other, but he really rather hoped she did have secrets. It would be a shame if she would have to die for nothing.
“State your name, and your identification.” There was no sense in asking for the offense, not at the Advanced Levels. Generally speaking one had several from which to choose, and all of them actionable.
“I am — Davit, of the market at Cynergau. Of the People, Your Excellency.”
She sounded fairly beaten already, to Andrej. The People? They were all the People. Except the Aznir, of course, the beloved of the Holy Mother, and the executors of Her Sacred Will.
Well, if Davit was meek and submissive, perhaps he would just talk to her for a bit and see what he could find out about of her state of mind. He was reluctant to set the driver down, since he was eager to test himself with it; but there was no sense in rushing things — that was one of Noycannir’s problems. Andrej exchanged the driver for his rhyti and seated himself at the chair that was kept for him beside the table.
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