Excerpt from Inversions by Iain M. Banks, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

The chief torturer grabbed her hand in one of his and forced the finger back, towards her own lips. "No. You do it. Do what you did to him."

The Doctor shook her hand free of Nolieti's and calmly put her finger to her mouth, spreading the brown paste along her top gum. "The taste is bitter-sweet," she said in the same tone she uses when she is teaching me. "The effects last between two and three bells and usually have no side effects, though in a body seriously weakened and in shock, fits are likely and death is a remote possibility." She licked her finger. "Children in particular suffer severe side effects with almost no restorative function and it is never recommended for them. The gel is made from the berries of a biennial plant which grows on isolated peninsulae on islands in the very north of Drezen. It is quite precious, and more usually applied in a solution, in which form, too, it is most stable and long-lasting. I have used it to treat the King on occasion and he regards it as one of my more efficacious prescriptions. There is not much left now and I would have preferred not to waste it on either those who are going to die anyway, or on myself, but you did insist. I am sure the King will not mind." (I have to report, Master, that as far as I am aware, the Doctor has never used this particular gel -- of which she has several jars -- on the King, and I am not sure she had ever used it to treat any patient.) The Doctor closed her mouth and I could see her wipe her tongue round her top gum. Then she smiled. "Are you sure you won't try some?"

Nolieti said nothing for a moment, his broad, dark face moving as though he was chewing on his tongue.

"Get this Drezen witch out of here," he said eventually to Unoure, and then turned away to stamp on the brazier's foot-bellows. The brazier hissed and glowed yellow, showering sparks up into its sooty chimney. Nolieti glanced at the dead man in the cage-chair. "Then take this bastard to the acid bath," he barked.

We were at the door when the chief torturer, still working the foot-bellows with a regular, thrusting stroke, called out, "Doctor?"

She turned to look at him as Unoure opened the door and fished the black blindfold from his apron. "Yes, chief torturer?" she said.

He looked round at us, smiling as he continued to fire the brazier. "You'll be here again, Drezen woman," he said softly to her. His eyes glittered in the yellow brazier light. "And next time you won't be able to walk out."

The Doctor held his gaze for a good while, until she looked down and shrugged. "Or you will appear in my surgery," she told him, looking up. "And may be assured of my best attention."

The chief torturer turned away and spat into the brazier, his foot stamping on the bellows and breathing life into that instrument of death as we were ushered out of the low door by the assistant Unoure.

Two hundred heartbeats later we were met at the tall iron doors which led into the rest of the palace by a footman of the royal chamber.

"It's my back again, Vosill," the King said, turning onto his front on the wide, canopied bed while the Doctor rolled up first her own sleeves and then the King's tunic top and shift. And we were in the principal bed-chamber of King Quience's private apartments, deep within the innermost quadrangle of Efernze, the winter palace of Haspide, capital of Haspidus!

This has become such a regular haunt of mine, indeed such a regular place of work, that I confess I am inclined to forget that I am honoured indeed to be present. When I stop to consider the matter though, I think, Great Gods, I -- an orphan of a disgraced family -- am in the presence of our beloved King! And regularly, and intimately!

At such moments, Master, I thank you in my soul with all the vigour that is mine to command, for I know that it was only your kindness, wisdom and compassion that put me in such an exalted position and entrusted me with such an important mission. Be assured that I shall continue to try with all my might to be worthy of that trust, and fulfil that task.

Copyright © 2000 by Iain M. Banks