Indomitus Vivat (The Fovean Chronicles) (16 page)

    
Move the fumes through a second pot of cool water, and contain the fumes into a long metal vial, which you want to keep cold, so that it keeps a negative pressure.

    
It didn’t work the first few times, so I had to make a little foot pump with a bellows.  Then it worked really well.  The stink of the water in the second pot told me that I had probably done it right.  The contents of the vial were at high pressure, but I had anticipated that and made a butterfly valve so that I could seal it and release its gas when I wanted to.

    
“You are going to disgust him into telling you what you want to know?” D’gattis asked me, making a face next to the second pot.

    
“I am going to make him happy,” I said.  Ancenon and he had watched the four-day procedure with interest.  Arath, Thorn, Nantar and Dilvesh had taken the Free Legion soldiers, the Legionnaires, to Sental.  Karel of Stone had left for Andurin.

    
“Happy?” Ancenon asked.

    
“Happy,” I said.  “So happy that he doesn’t care about anything.”

    
“And then he will tell you what you want to know?” D’gattis said.

    
“That is the theory, yes,” I said.

   
D’gattis looked at Ancenon, who looked at D’gattis.  “You can’t say that Adriam doesn’t want him happy,” D’gattis said.

    
“I would think just the opposite,” Ancenon said.

    
“And if it doesn’t work,” Shela said, sniffing at the middle container as I disconnected it, “Do we pour this vial brew on him?”

    
“That vial brew,” I said, “is probably one of the most effective cleaners you will ever find.”

     
She raised an eyebrow.  “Is it?” she asked.

    
“Don’t breathe it,” I said.  “But if you use it in an open space, it will clean anything.  You will want to wear something to protect your hands.”

    
She regarded the container skeptically.

    
Meanwhile, we took the vile and returned to the wizard.

    
We found him in the cell where we left him, the worse for wear.  Apparently he hadn’t taken our advice about the bars.  His face had been burned and cracked, his naked body singed, and he’d lost some hair.  The chains that held him to the floor and ceiling where scorched but intact.

    
“Perhaps we should just leave him to his own devices,” D’gattis said.  “He can torture himself until he is ready to reveal his secrets.”

    
The wizard grimaced at him.  Ancenon placed a holding on the door to the cell, so that two Wolf Soldiers could open it and not be attacked by him.

    
“How do I do this?” D’gattis asked.

    
Entering the cell with the wizard had become too dangerous.  He had taken to attacking his jailers and seriously hurt one of them.  As a result, no one fed him and the floor around him lay slick with his waste.

    
I had a copper tube that led from the vial to a cup.  The tube stretched long enough to be flexible but strong enough not to leak.  The bindings were wrapped in cloth and hog fat, but I barely trusted them.

    
“Put this cup over his mouth and I will open this valve,” I said. “Make him breathe it, and try not to do so yourself.”

    
“It will harm me?” he asked, concerned.

    
I shook my head.  “I just don’t want to deal with you happy,” I said.  I met his eye as best I could.  “Actually, maybe that would hurt you.”

    
He shook his head, took the cup, and walked into the cell.

    
The wizard attacked him, but D’gattis stood on his guard, and the wizard had been sorely weakened.  The floor bothered the Uman-Chi more than the occupant.

    
He forced the cup over the wizard’s mouth and then held the back of his head so he couldn’t pull away.  I waited for the wizard to turn red before I cut the gas on.  I knew he would hold his breath, so why waste it?

    
He finally exhaled, then inhaled.  The gas carried no odor, so he knew nothing but the breeze he felt on his face.  I watched him as he breathed, thinking it nothing more than air.

    
Spells either work or they don’t.  Nitrous oxide takes its time to do what it has to.

    
In three minutes, perhaps less, he relaxed visibly in his chains and grinned to himself.  I cut the gas off, and indicated to D’gattis that he could lower the cup.

    
“How are you, my friend?” D’gattis asked him.

    
He lowered his head, and then looked up drunkenly at the Uman-Chi.  “Oh, I’m fine,” he said.

    
“And what is your name?” he asked.  “You never told me.”

    
“Shhhhh!” he said, and grinned.  “A wizard must not tell his name!”

    
“You may whisper it, if you like,” D’gattis said.  “I won’t tell anyone.”

    
“Mmmmmm, I don’t think I should.”

    
D’gattis held the cup up to his mouth, and I gassed him a little more.  His knees bent a little and he hung more in his chains.

    
Nitrous oxide isn’t any type of truth serum, if there is such a thing.  It’s an anesthetic.  I’d had it when my wisdom teeth were removed years ago.

    
After the fact I told my doctor all sorts of things about me that he thought were very funny, but didn’t actually believe.  They were all true.  Just like a drunk will confess things he doesn’t really want to, the nitrous will lessen inhibitions.  That gave us the best shot we had to interrogate him.

    
Thank all of those sailors in the automotive hobby shop at 7
th
street base in San Diego.  They had told me how to make nitrous for when they went street dragging in Tijuana.  The shop kept the ammonia that we created as a by-product for cleaning.

    
It can blow up in your face if you do it wrong, so I didn’t do it wrong.

    
I cut the gas off, and D’gattis took the cup away from his mouth.  He had a grin on his pudgy face now, blinking rapidly to keep his eyes open.  “Whuh wuz you askin’ me?” he slurred.

    
“You’re name,” he said.  “You can tell me your name, certainly.”

    
“Makall ak Damaharr,” the Dorkan said.  “Of the Black Fist.”

    
I turned to Ancenon, crossing my arms in front of me.  “The Black Fist?” I asked.

    
He nodded, still watching the interrogation.  “They are wizards who specialize in espionage,” he said.  “It makes sense.  We have caught them before in Outpost IX.”

    
“Wow,” I said.  “How do you detect them?”

    
He turned his head toward me.  I looked right into his silver-on-silver eyes, long enough to see the faint cornea.  Then he turned back to D’gattis.

    
Ancenon had no reason to give me state secrets.

    
“Do you want us to help you get to Dorkan?” D’gattis asked.

    
“Yes,” he said.  “Haff to – um, haff to get to Dorkan City.  Haff to report on Outpost V.”

    
“Outpost V?”  D’gattis asked.  “You said you wanted to tell me about Outpost V.”

    
“I di’?” he looked blearily at D’gattis.

    
“You were afraid you might be captured,” D’gattis said.  “And you wanted me to also have the information.”

    
“Capt’, capt’,” he mumbled.  “There was a ship from Trenbon.”

    
“Yes,” D’gattis said.  “You don’t have much time.”

    
I looked at Ancenon.  “He is really good,” I said.

    
“He has done this many times,” Ancenon said.

     
“You can tell,” Shela commented, standing behind us.  I felt her lay her hand on my shoulder.

    
“Outpost V – it is Uman City!”

    
He reached for D’gattis, and his chains held him.  His face turned up toward the ceiling, then back to D’gattis, confused.

    
“They have us,” he said.  “We don’t have much time!”

    
Makall seemed hesitant.  We gave him more gas.

    
“What izzat?” he asked.

    
“It makes you stronger,” D’gattis lied.  “You might be tortured, you will need your strength.”

    
Makall looked worried, then stared blearily around the cell.  He turned his face back to D’gattis.

    
“I tried to get a message to them,” he said.  “Through Klem.”

    
Shela gripped my shoulder.

    
“Klem, the former Earl?” D’gattis asked.

    
Makall shook his head.  “He is dead.  His son, who took on his name.”

    
I had suspected this much.

    
“Shall I get him to safety?” D’gattis asked.

    
Makall shook his head.  “He is guarding the Duke.  He is just biding his time.”

    
“To kill him?”

    
“To take his daughter.”

    
Shela bolted out of the room before I could turn around.  I yearned to join her, but I had to hear this, and no matter what they promised, I no longer trusted the Uman-Chi.

    
“The Dorkans want this?”

    
He shook his head.  “The bunny hunters!” he said, and giggled to himself.

    
“They are working with the Dorkans?”

    
“They haff to.  They haff to know about the Outposts.”

    
“What about them?” D’gattis pressed him.

    
Makall leaned closer in his chains, and whispered something.  I couldn’t hear it, but D’gattis’ face reacted to it, and I’d never known a man more stoic.

    
D’gattis nodded, and taking back the cup with him, he returned to the doorway, stepping around the mess on the floor.

    
He left the cell, and he cleared the tube from the door.  The two Wolf Solider guards closed and locked it, and Ancenon released his spell.

    
He looked right into Ancenon’s eyes, and something passed between them.  Ancenon looked thoughtful, frowning, and then nodded.  D’gattis looked at me.

    
“Those swords and tapestries and things you thought were useless,” he said.  “They are in the crates we brought back to you.  They are priceless relics of the Cheyak nation.

    
“They are probably more than that,” I said, “or you wouldn’t be looking at me like you are.”

    
He frowned, then turned his face away, back to the wizard.  He probably wondered if I would be able to get the same information out of Makall that he had.

    
If Shela had a say in it, I would probably get that and more.  He would know that, too.

    
“Those relics include art that verify that you are right, that there are more Outposts, and that Outpost VII is not on the Silent Island, but beneath the waves of the Bay.  From them, we can find the other Outposts.”

    
He turned toward Ancenon again, who nodded.  He sighed.  Clearly he didn’t think he needed to tell me this.

    
“One of the Outposts is Alun, in Volkhydro,” he said.  “Another is in Toor, and there are two more in Conflu.”

    
“And?” I asked.  This information wouldn’t have gotten the reaction I saw out of D’gattis.  For an Uman-Chi who already knew about Outpost X and V, this might seem mildly interesting.

    
He sighed.  “The shocking thing is not that the information is there,” he said.  “The shocking thing, which you disregarded, was that the armor and the swords you found were not a thousand years old, but closer to four hundred.”

    
“So someone figured all of this out four hundred years ago?” I asked.  “That is probably how the rumor of Outpost X got started.”

    
Ancenon shook his head.  “We have known of Outpost X for more than four hundred years, your Highness,” he said.  “The fact is, the wall that you thought had been raised to protect Men from the vault door hidden there, originated instead to hide it from any Uman-Chi who might wander down there.

    
“No Uman-Chi would build that wall,” he said, and looked me in the eyes.  Again, I could see the silver cornea on the silver iris. 

    
I thought of Avek.  He’d had reason enough to keep this secret.  Or did he?