He refused again.
'Look, if you dehydrate, you'll become weak and far more vulnerable to my questions and mind probes.'
He paused and swallowed, but then shied away from the cup again as I brought it up.
'Have it your way,' I said and put the dish down. The Vessorine were famously hardy. It was said they could go without food or water for days when battle demanded it. If he wanted to show off, it was fine by me.
I rose and went over the body of the speeder carefully. I had borrowed a scanner wand from Crezia's study, and set it to detect high and low band signals… transponders, beacons, codes. I found nothing. For good measure. I swept the Vessorine too. Both flier and prisoner were clean. If the mercenaries were looking for us, they wouldn't find us because of the craft or pilot.
It had taken me half an hour to sweep the vessel. I went back to the pilot. The mid-morning sun was now high enough to throw sunlight in through the flier's side hatch, and he was obviously feeling the heat because he'd drawn his legs up into what shade remained.
I offered the water again. No response.
'Tell me your name/ I said.
His jaw clenched.
'Tell me your name/ I repeated, using the will now.
He shuddered. 'Eino Goran/ His voice was dry and slurry.
'And before it was Eino Goran, your name was what?'
'Nngh…'
His resolve was strong. The Vessorine were a blunt race, with a high frequency of untouchables. Part of their martial training was to learn methods of resisting interrogation, and at first I thought he might have some well-developed mind-trick to wall out psychic impulsions.
But as I questioned him further, I began to suspect it was more to do with the emplated identity he was wearing. I'd tried to pick it away, but it still wouldn't budge. Crude and simple it may have been, but it was psychically riveted into place. Part of that profound fixture, I was sure, was acting as a screen. It wasn't that he wouldn't answer. He couldn't.
'Gregor?'
I looked out of the hatch and saw that Crezia had come out into the yard. 'Gregor, what the hell are you doing?'
I got out of the flier and drew her back towards the garden doors. The Vessorine had undoubtedly heard her use my name. It couldn't be helped.
That man's tied up like damn cygnid!' she said.
That man would kill me given the chance. He's tied up for all our sakes. I have to ask him questions/
She glared at me. She had changed into a long gown of blue satin with an epinchire trim. Her straw-blonde hair was tightly braided behind her head and held up by two golden pins. She was beautiful and haughty, just as I remembered her. Crezia had high cheekbones, a generous mouth, and pale brown eyes given to expressions of passion and intelligence. The only passion I had seen in them since my arrival had been fury.