Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 398
Lavin half-smiled, and came around to look the prisoner
in the eye. "And why not? He obviously loves his life, Hesty.
But there’s no reason to believe he knows anything."
"Hear me out," whispered the prisoner. He hunched, as if
expecting a blow, but his gaze remained fixed on Lavin’s.
Lavin threw up his hands. "All right. Your torturers are
incompetent, or this man has more character than they do." He
sat on a camp chair, and gestured for the prisoner to sit
opposite. Awkwardly, as if his legs would not bend properly,
the prisoner sat, hunching forward so as not touch the back of
the chair. Hesty folded his arms and looked on in amusement.
"What is your name?"
"Enneas, lord Lavin."
"You were caught looting, Enneas. We punish that with
death, but we’re not cruel. Why did you choose to be tortured
instead of letting us hang you quickly?"
Enneas breathed heavily, and seemed on the verge of
fainting. He put his good arm on his knee to steady himself,
and said, "I know something that will win you the siege
without much bloodshed. But why should I tell you, if I’m
going to die anyway?"
Lavin nearly laughed. The answer was self-evident:
they would stop torturing him, that was why. But the torture
hadn’t worked, and by the look of him, the man wouldn’t
survive much more of it.
"I can’t believe you mean to bargain with us."
Enneas tried to smile; it came across as a grotesque
grimace. "What do I have to lose?"
"Your testicles," said Hesty impatiently.
Lavin waved him silent. "I’m sure all that has been
explained to Mister Enneas. Some of it done, too, by the looks
of things."