"That question has never come up." The Warleader frowned again. "Your claims cannot be disproven if they took place in another universe, so you must be given the protection they grant you, though not payment of a debt that may not exist. But I would also judge it dishonorable to deny you the opportunity to prove those claims, if you choose to waive that protection."

"Consider it waived." Medart managed a partial grin. "But don't bother asking any tactical or strategic questions; once I realized I'd have to put myself in your hands, I was careful to avoid any such information."

The Warleader stared at him for a moment, then chuckled. "Were our circ.u.mstances reversed, Prince, I would have done the same. I will ask only what is necessary to establish the truth of your claims. And you may consider yourself a guest of Clan Vader."

Medart bowed. "Thank you for your courtesy, Warleader. How soon can we take care of the interrogation?"

"As soon as you wish, Highness. That particular chamber is always kept ready."

"Let's get it over with, then. Putting it off isn't going to make it any easier, and I'd like to end this war as soon as I can--if that's possible at all."

"It will end, unfortunately," the Warleader said. "Not for some time, I hope--the Empire is the most competent enemy we have yet encountered--but it will end."

"With the Empire destroyed, the way you're going," Medart said.

"That's not exactly what I had in mind. At home, you're a vital part of the Empire--a crucial part of our military, and contract police on any world that really values law and order. To me, that's the ideal--but I'll settle for having you as friends to this one, allies against the worst enemy any civilization in any universe has ever faced."

Ryan looked suddenly interested. "Oh? An even better enemy?"

"I thought that would intrigue you, if you hadn't already heard about them. Ask me about the Ravagers while you have me under--they're something n.o.body would believe on simple hearsay. If you're lucky, you'll never run into them--but if you're not, and they show up here, you'll be glad of any allies you can get."

Clan-chief Ryan watched as his people fastened Prince James into the interrogation chair. He'd had a primarily-Vader fleet in the area because of an information-gathering spell that had told him his clan would benefit by an intercept here, with a "side note" that it would be best if he seem to be less than his true rank. Deception was difficult for Sandemans, but introducing himself as Warleader rather than clan-chief was failure to reveal he was both rather than an active lie, so he'd been able to manage it. Lying was for Shapers and their kin.

This Prince James was obviously related to the Shapers, from his size and coloring, but Ryan found himself wanting to believe what James had told him. Not that he'd given Last Gift to a Vader warrior, or that Sandemans were actually part of the Empire he came from--even though that was something chiefs couldn't either deny fully or reveal--but that he had gotten the saber honestly, and his motives for claiming what he did were equally honest. It was impossible to believe that one who risked himself as James was could do so without some overwhelming motivation beyond the self-advancement of Shaperkin!

When the restraints were all in place, Ryan moved to stand directly in front of the chair. "I regret the necessity of binding you, Highness, but it is for your protection; as I told you, this spell can be extremely painful to one with your automatic magical defenses, possibly causing convulsions and self-injury."

"I appreciate the consideration, especially toward one you must regard as little if any better than the Shapers." Medart shifted in the chair, then made himself as comfortable as possible. "Okay, I'm as ready as I can be; go ahead."

Ryan nodded. "As you wish, Highness." He began the words and gestures of the truth-compulsion spell, watching its effect on the human.

Medart tensed and started to sweat, his expression becoming strained.

The spell was working, but Ryan was impressed by the resistance it was encountering. Not conscious resistance; if anything, the Prince was trying to cooperate, which was less of a surprise than Ryan would have expected before meeting him.

But the resistance did make it necessary to strengthen his spell. As he did so, the Prince's discomfort turned into pain, his muscles spasming and his breath coming in gasps.

It wasn't enough, and Ryan frowned. The next level of this spell was likely to send the Prince into convulsions, and though he'd mentioned the possibility, he hadn't really expected the man's defenses to be that strong. Such extreme measures were normally used only to extract the most critical information; he was reluctant to use them for less.

"Why the hesitation, Ryan?" a woman's voice asked, curiously. "You've questioned Terrans before."

Ryan looked around. "I'm glad you're here, Kelly. He doesn't have any information, he just wants us to believe he's from a universe where we're part of the Empire--and where he was bequeathed a saber for giving one of our warriors Last Gift. He waived immunity from compulsion to obtain that belief, and he's trying to cooperate, but his auto-defenses are stronger than I'd have credited to a Terran; if I keep going I'll send him into convulsions, maybe kill him if his defenses collapse too quickly for me to pull back."

"And simple verification is nothing to die for, even verification of such revolting statements." The warriors'-woman nodded once, sharply.

"Still, if he wants it, he is ent.i.tled to prove his honesty. I'll support his defenses if necessary, and have a healing spell ready if his condition gets critical."

"Good. As soon as you're ready, then, I'll boost the power."

Kelly took position behind the man, resting her hands on his shoulders.

She closed her eyes for a few seconds, then opened them. "All right, I'm ready."

Ryan nodded, then concentrated on Medart again, increasing his spell's pressure against those defenses. As he'd predicted, the Prince convulsed almost immediately, the restraints the only things that kept him from breaking bones. At last, though, his defenses collapsed and Ryan released the pressure, maintaining only the truth-compulsion. A few questions verified his ident.i.ty and universe of origin, then Ryan got to the key points. "You say you gave Last Gift to warriors of Clans Vader and Lewies. Describe the circ.u.mstances."

"They were prisoners aboard my ship, in sickbay because they were dying of something we didn't understand and couldn't cure. I was able to work it out and save most of the rest, but those two were beyond help, and I wasn't about to make them suffer if I could help it. I guessed you had some form of euthanasia or aided suicide the other Sandemans couldn't provide in enemy hands, so I told them I'd handle it if that was what they wanted. It was, so I did. They died quickly, and as painlessly as I could manage. Then we gave them star-burial, the best we could do in s.p.a.ce."

"And how did you get the saber?"

"That was later, on Mjolnir, for the conference that brought the Sandeman worlds into the Empire. I got into a TreasureTunnels game that included Clan-chief Wylie of Vader, along with a few others, Sandeman and Imperial. But I didn't have an appropriate character, so Wylie loaned me one of his, the Black Jedi Kynan Ardais. He explained the game saber, then handed me a real one and let me try it out. When I went to return it, he told me it was mine, a thanks-gift from the warrior Leigh."

Ryan wanted to continue that line, but he'd promised to restrict his questioning to what was required to prove James' claims--and the subject James had told him he should ask about. "Tell me of the Ravagers."

"They're inter-universal raiders. They aren't life as we usually understand the term; some scientists believe they aren't really life at all. From time to time, at unpredictable intervals, they erupt into a random universe and--if that universe doesn't have a technological and population level near the Empire's--devastate it and proceed to another. But no Empire-level civilization is attacked more than once, because a civilization at that stage can defeat them, and so far always has. After such a defeat, the Ravagers retreat, and it's several years before they attack again anywhere. That's why Empires in various alternate universes cooperate to develop Empires or the equivalent in still other alternates."

"And you do not think we could defeat these Ravagers, though we are defeating this Empire?"

"You probably could. In fact, I'm sure you could. But it's never an easy fight; there are times we have to go in and rebuild, even after they're thrown out. The stronger a universe is, the better for everyone--and this one would be strongest with you and the Empire as allies. United would be best, but that wasn't easy at home; it may be impossible, here."

"And just how was such a union managed in your universe?"

Medart managed a grin. "Sweet reason, backed by five battle fleets.

The fleets turned out to be a temptation rather than the threat I'd expected, but either way they worked."

"To your pleasure." Ryan scowled, then shook his head. "I have asked what I agreed to restrict myself to; I will not go beyond that. Is there anything else you would like to tell me while under the spell?"

"Just that I won't lie to you. Rangers don't, unless it's essential to the Empire's survival--and the survival of this one depends on me gaining your trust, which means I don't dare lie. I may not tell you everything, but what I do tell you will be the truth."

"Said under truth-compulsion, I must believe you--though I find it almost impossible to credit the idea of a Terran who does not lie.

Still, this interrogation is over." Ryan released the spell, and Medart collapsed, unconscious. Looking at Kelly, Ryan said, "Will you care for him, lady? I named him clan-guest when he waived immunity to convince us of his honesty."

"Yes, Chief." Kelly looked down at her patient with a bemused expression. "His ideas are revolting . . . but there's a certain fascination to them at the same time, and the man himself is intriguing."

"Yes, he is. I think I'm going to leave Trevor in charge of the fleet and take Prince James back to Sandeman--you can come along, if you'd like."

"Thank you--I would."

Medart knew as soon as he woke that he was on a smaller ship. There was no single specific item, but a lifetime aboard numerous cla.s.ses of ship had given him a feel for the differences between them; this was about courier size. Wondering what was going on, he got dressed--someone had cleaned his clothes and hung them up, with his boots and weapon belt nearby, his saber clipped to the belt.

That was a good sign, he thought as he fastened the belt. Weapons were customary for the warrior caste, but a warrior or equivalent being unarmed around others wasn't considered an insult, the way it was in the Traiti Sector; they could have disarmed him without dishonoring him.

Something to eat seemed like a good idea, so he left his cabin and started exploring. Almost immediately, he ran into the w'woman who'd taken part in the interrogation. He'd been aware of what was going on, though he hadn't been able to react without prompting, so he knew she'd been ready to help him--and he was willing to bet it was she who'd cared for him when he'd pa.s.sed out once he was free to.

He bowed to her. "I thank you for your aid, lady. Without it I would probably be in considerable discomfort today."

She returned the bow. "I was pleased to be able to help, Prince.

Fortunately, your pulled muscles responded well to a simple healing spell, which also insured a good rest. Would you care to join me and Warleader Ryan for breakfast?"

"I would be delighted. That's what I was looking for, as a matter of fact." Medart grinned at her as they started walking. "We've changed ships; are we bound for Sandeman?"