Shadows, стр. 12
The captured raider held his hands in front of his face, his terror obvious.
“I must go after them, Captain Cutter. Don’t you understand that? I must!”
“Of course you must, but not alone, and not without a plan. And your people are suffering while we stand here yelling at each other. Let’s question this man and tend to your people, then we can pursue them with a real chance of getting Kesteluni back. She showed me hospitality and kindness, and I will help you save her if I can. As it is, you don’t even know who the attackers were.”
“We know, sir,” said Sergeant Riidono. Using the tip of his rifle, he jabbed the prisoner in his right cheek. “Only those who serve the F’ahdn of Imsurmik may wear white face paint as part of the J’Stull guard. These purple stripes on his cheeks mark him as coming from a tribe loyal to the satrap, and through the satrap, the F’ahdn. Others wear blue, red, or green paint, or combinations of those colors. He would wear his tribe’s purple, unless aiding the J’Stull. Then he could wear nothing but white.”
Cutter nodded. The whole paint issue had befuddled him from the start. He understood its protection against UV, but the intricacies of the patterns and symbols were beyond him. Thank God his men used clothing for the same purpose.
Without meaning to, Riidono gave him the distraction he’d needed. Ignoring the steel touching his head, Cutter knelt, grabbed the prisoner’s throat with his left hand, and pushed the barrel of the Thompson under his chin with the right.
“What’s your name?”
“Hisnatandu, my lord.”
“I’m not your lord; I’m your enemy. I’m also the only reason you’re still alive. Tell me why you attacked this place.”
The man stammered and couldn’t get the words out. Closing his eyes, he took several deep breaths and then spoke. “Please don’t kill me. Please! I have a family.”
“So did the woman you murdered. Now answer my question.”
“The F’ahdn’s yuzbazzi, Zeesar, gave the order.”
Cutter glanced up at Riidono. “What does yuzbazzi mean?”
“It means someone you trust to carry out your orders,” answered Tanavuna, once again engaged in the present. “Someone who will do bad things, if you ask them. But I have met Zeesar, and this attack does not seem like some-thing he would do, even if he could.”
Good, he’s back to using the logical part of his brain.
“A hatchet-man,” Cutter said. “That’s what we called such a one. Why don’t you think it was this Zeesar?”
“Zeesar is a militia leader. He is the yuzbazzi; yes, that is true. But Subitorni commands the J’Stull guards of Imsurmik. I do not believe Subitorni would allow Zeesar to give orders to his J’Stull.”
“What about that?” Cutter said, poking the terrified man lying in the dirt.
“I know nothing of such things, my lord; please do not hurt me. I am from the village of Murri. The J’Stull commander, Subitorni, ordered us to come here with his men to punish those who are disloyal to the F’ahdn. I heard some of them whispering about a healer, Kestel-something, I could not hear the rest—”
“Kesteluni!” Tanavuna said.
“Ssshhh,” Cutter said, hoping the sound translated to the same thing on R’Bak as it did on Earth. To the prisoner, he said, “Continue. Imsurmik isn’t far away; why would he order this done now?”
“I know not!” the man squeaked.
But Cutter had interrogated enough Germans to know when a prisoner was lying. “You get one last chance to tell me the truth, before I let them have you.”
“No! I only know the rumors.”
Cutter nudged his throat with the sub-machine gun. “I’m listening.”
“It is said the F’ahdn suffers from the Bleeding Black on his face. I know a woman who attends his household, a masker; she told me that the F’ahdn blamed her for his affliction, accusing her of not painting his face correctly. If it cannot be cured, she will pay with her life.”
Once again, Cutter gave Tanavuna a questioning look. “Bleeding Black?”
Tanavuna answered, “I have told you of this, Captain. It is the reason we wrap our faces and others apply paint. The sun burns and darkens us all. But sometimes, it turns smaller spots black and they often bleed. Cutting off a limb may stop the spread, but often does not. There are treatments using plants that sometimes work, and Kesteluni is known to have succeeded many times in curing the Bleeding Black. People come long distances to be healed by her. If the F’ahdn has it, he will die unless she can save him.”
“It sounds like something we called skin cancer,” Cutter said. “But I don’t understand why he sent a raiding party instead of just asking her for help.”
“It is not his way,” Tanavuna said. “He does not ask for help; he requires it from those under his so-called protection—the ones who share their harvests so he does not destroy them. We have resisted those demands.”
“He asked—demanded—your wife treat him?”
“No, she would not have turned him down, whether he asked or demanded. She would have attended him. He must not have been willing to take the chance. The F’ahdn is a prideful man. And vain.”
“Will he release her once she treats him?”
Tanavuna shook his head.
“So he’s just another bully. I know all about those.”
Cutter stood, his knees aching, and stepped back. As his platoon watched, he brought up the Thompson and squeezed the trigger when the muzzle came level