Crezia looked on, pointedly saying nothing about the weapon.
'Unfasten your tunic again/ I said.
Crezia started to say something but I cut her off. 'You'll need to get at his arm, won't you, doctor?'
There was another reason for getting him to disrobe. Aemos carefully studied the man's tattoos, making notes. The Vessorine just stood there, stripped to the waist, sullen. He refused to make eye contact.
I noticed he was slender but whipcord tough. The marks of old scars dotted his torso. I'd taken him to be a reasonably young man, but either he was older than he looked, or his short life had been barbarically tough.
Aemos finished. Til get it translated properly. But it's what I thought it was/ He turned to go downstairs. I stopped him and passed him the pistol.
'Cover him, please/
Aemos waited while I re-tied the mere's hands. I tied them in front of his body now, and then lashed his ankles together and tied off the end of that cord to the bedstead.
'Sit down/ I told him. He sat. I took the weapon back from Aemos, tucked it into my belt and sent him on his way.
'If you will, doctor?'
She looked at me. 'Just like that? Don't you want to give him the chance to volunteer first?'
There was no point, but I wanted to keep Crezia on side.
Tell me your name/ I said.
'Eino Goran/
Tell me your real name/
'Eino Goran/
I shot a warning look at Crezia and used the will. I focused it in the Ves-sorine's direction so she would be spared, but it still made her shiver.
He gurgled a non-verbal response.
'Now, please/
Crezia quickly injected twenty millilitres of zendocaine into the man's upper arm and drew back. Zendocaine is a psychoactive, a synaptic enhancer that causes a flurry of cortex activity disguised by a soothing opiate. The man coughed, and after a few moments his eyes took on a glassy sheen.
Crezia checked his blood pressure.
'Fine/ she said.
I placed my hand on the man's temple, and eased my mind into his. He was relaxed and offered no resistance, but his mind was lively. An ideal balance if I was going to prise off his emplated identity.
I tried a few test questions, both verbally and mentally. His answers were slurred.
'What is your name?'
'Eino Goran/
'What is your age?'
'Forty sstannard/
V/hat is your height?'
Two anna third kwen/ That was a good sign. I had no idea what a 'kwen' was, but I'd take a bet it was a Vessorine measure.
'Where are we?' I continued. 'Inna room.' 'Where is the room?' 'Inna house. Dunno.' 'On what world?' 'Gudrun/
'What colour is the sky?' 'Hnn, this sky?' 'Yes. What colour is this sky?' 'Blue.'