Mancheng went back to the niche. From it, he took a short length of oak, rounded by a lathe at one end. He fitted the rounded end into the hole of the clapper, transforming the metal bar into the sinister head of a hammer. He nodded to the patrol, who came forward and unlocked the fetters from the prisoner's left hand. "I require your hand, Mister. Please place it on the stool, like this." He held out his own hand, palm upward, with the little finger extended out and the rest of the fingers curled in. The prisoner shook his head, sobbing now, and the patrol took jin'Zhuo's hand and forced it down on the stool's seat. Jin'Zhuo curled his fingers into an impotent fist. "I need only your little finger, Mister," Mancheng told him. "Otherwise, the pain will be... far worse." Mancheng moved alongside the stool, looking down at the prisoner. "I need to know, Mister jin'Zhuo, the names of the Mategician with whom you were involved here in Orbis."
"I don't know any other Mategician," the man gasped. He tried to move his hand back, but though the chains rattled, the patrol held it fast.
"Ah," Mancheng said. "You see, I believed you when you told me that you acted alone, because I don't think even the Mategician would be so foolish as to send a lone person on such a futile mission as yours. But I don't believe you now. I can see the lie in your eyes, Mister. I can hear it in your voice and smell it in the fear that comes from you. And I've learned over the years that there is truth in pain." He touched his finger to the middle of his glasses, and saw jin'Zhuo's eyes follow the gesture. He hefted the hammer made by the bell clapper and looked down at the stool where jin'Zhuo's hand was still fisted. "What will it be, Mister? Your entire hand, or just the little finger?"
The man sobbed. The smell of urine became stronger. "You can't..."
"To the contrary," Mancheng told him, his voice soft and sympathetic. "I will, not out of desire, but because I must. Because it's my task to keep this city, the Huangdi, and the Guji safe."
"No, no, you don't have to do this," the man said desperately, his voice rushed. "I'll tell you the names. I met once with an older man named Tse and another one my age whose name was Liao. I don't know their family names, Commandant; they never told me. I met them in a tavern in Oldtown. I could show you where, could describe them for you—"
Mancheng was still looking at the hand on the stool. "The finger or the hand, Mister?"
"But I've told you everything I know, Commandant. That is the truth."
Mancheng said nothing. He lifted the hammer, bending his elbow. With a whimper, jin'Zhuo extended his little finger.
Mancheng brought the hammer down with a grunt: hard, fast, and sudden. The blow crushed bone and flesh, tendon and muscle. Blood spattered from beneath the brass. A shrill scream tore from jin'Zhuo's throat, a high-pitched screech that echoed from the stones and Mancheng's ears before it faded away into a wailing sob. Mancheng was always surprised by the sheer volume the human throat could produce.
He lifted the hammer; the man's finger was flattened and destroyed, nearly torn in half near the second joint. He heard the captain's intake of breath hiss behind him.
"There's truth in pain," Mancheng said again to the man. The patrol had released jin'Zhuo's hand, and the prisoner cradled it to his chest, rocking back and forth on the floor of the cell as he wept. "I'm very sorry, Mister, but I'm afraid I need to be certain there isn't anything else you have to tell us...."
Mancheng remained, asking questions until only the thumb of jin'Zhuo's ruined hand remained untouched. Then he wiped the bloodied and gore-spattered end of the hammer on the prisoner's clothing, and pulled the handle from the clapper with some effort. He placed the metal bar and handle back in their niche. Nodding to the patrol, he and Captain wei'Nanman left the cell.
"He knows nothing of any use," he said to the captain as they ascended the stairs.
"He named Envoy wei'Shamoke, there at the last," wei'Nanman said. "Isn't that what you wanted, Commandant?"
"He would have named his own mamaqin then," Mancheng answered. "I wanted the truth, and the truth is that he was a fool acting alone. We have two first names, almost certainly false, and a tavern in Oldtown that was probably chosen at random. I'll send out the Huangd Patrol and see if they can find these men from the descriptions he gave us. But I don't have much hope. I'll speak with the Huangdi and the Guji and tell them what we've learned."
"And the prisoner, Commandant?"
Mancheng shrugged. "Have him sign a confession. Leave the paper blank so we can fill in what we might require later. Then execute him for his crime. A quick and painless death, Captain. He deserves that much. Afterward, cut off the hands and pull out the tongue, as required for Mategician, then gibbet the body from the Tsing-Yi Bridge so that all of Oldtown can see it."
"I'll see to it."
"And to the birds?"
"The birds?" the captain said in puzzlement, then: "Ah, yes. In the dragon's mouth. Yes, Commandant. I'll see to that also."
"Good." They reached the top of the stairs. Mancheng turned, and the captain brought his hands to his forehead in salute. "It's been a productive day, then. You have your tasks to attend to, Captain. I can find my own way out."