the expression of horror on Gazen's face as he saw a poet-warrior of the K'da come boiling out of Jack's shirt collar.
Not that the expression—or the face—were likely to last very long. Slapstick or no slapstick, the dragon would make hamburger out of him in nothing flat.
Jack could dig out the mercenary data, they could cut their way through however many Brummgan guards were loitering around outside, and head for the main gate. It was almost too easy.
And then he took another look at Gazen's face. He was watching Jack closely, like some interesting specimen squirming under a microscope.
No, not like a specimen under a microscope. Like an approaching spaceship that seemed way too harmless to be real. A ship that somehow, somewhere, had hidden weapons that had to be located and identified.
The setup wasn't almost too easy. It was too easy.
This was a test. The whole thing; from the humming computer, to the deliberate mention of Noy's sickness, to even being in here alone with Gazen.
The slavemaster was trying to goad him into some kind of reaction. Feeding him rope and waiting for him to take it, obligingly tie a noose, and hang himself.
Which meant Gazen's apparent helplessness was an illusion. The first move Jack made in that direction, and it would be as if somebody had dumped a bucket of Brummgas over his head.
He took a careful breath, quieting his emotions. No, Gazen was still motivated by money, and Jack was worth a lot of it. According to Uncle Virge's eavesdropped timetable, there were still a few days before they would be ready to ship him off the planet. He would continue to play innocent—or at least as innocent as he could under the circumstances—and wait for the right opportunity.
An opportunity, and a timing, of his choosing. Not Gazen's.
'You're taking this remarkably well, I must say,' Gazen murmured into Jack's thoughts. 'Perhaps you're expecting to be rescued? If so, I'd advise you to lay that hope to rest. It won't happen. Guaranteed.'
He slid his slapstick back into the holster at his waist. 'Or perhaps it's just that you're too stupid to comprehend the fate that awaits you,' he added in a nastier tone. 'Perhaps a small taste will help spur your imagination. Guards!'
The door slammed open, and three Brummgas bounded into the room. Their headlong rush seemed to falter, the rear one almost stumbling over the other two, as they caught sight of Jack still sitting quietly in his chair. 'Yes, Panjan Gazen?' one of them said, looking uncertainly between Gazen and Jack.
'He needs more of a lesson than the regular hotboxes can provide,' Gazen said.
His dark eyes focused one final time on Jack's face. Then, as if in complete dismissal of Jack as both puzzle and person, he turned back to his computer.
'Take him away,' he said over his shoulder, 'and put him in the frying pan.'
CHAPTER 22
Jack cleared his throat as the Brummgas surrounded his chair. 'Aren't you forgetting one small thing?' he asked.
Reluctantly, it seemed, Gazen turned back around to face him. 'And that is...?'
'Her Thumbleness will be expecting me to play with her today,' Jack said.
'She's likely to be upset if I don't turn up.'
Gazen's eyes flicked to the Brummgas. 'Her Thumbleness needs to learn she can't have everything she wants.'
'Absolutely,' Jack agreed. 'But I wouldn't want to be the one who has to teach her that.'
Gazen smiled thinly. 'Don't worry about it,' he said. 'I can handle Her Thumbleness.'
His eyes flicked to the Brummgas again. 'The frying pan,' he ordered again.
'Make it the full treatment.'
The frying pan turned out to be a small metal shed tucked out of sight in a clump of bushes about fifty yards from the mansion's kitchen entrance.
Probably hidden, Jack thought cynically, so as not to disturb the more delicate members of the Chookoock family. Other than that, it looked pretty much like the regular hotboxes he'd become acquainted with over the past couple of weeks.
Uneasily, he wondered what extras Gazen had added to give it such an ominous name.
The answer came as the lead Brummga led the way around to the far side of the frying pan and levered up the door. The other hotboxes had been plain tin structures, with plain tin insides. This one, in contrast, was lined with a bright copper mesh, with horizontal and vertical wires carefully separated by thin black rubbery spacers.
The Brummgas shoved him inside and swung the door closed again. The lock clicked, and with a muttering of deep voices the aliens clumped their way back toward the main house. 'I had wondered what was meant by the name frying pan,'
Draycos murmured when the footsteps had faded away. 'These wires are electrical, correct?'
'Afraid so,' Jack agreed grimly, searching the walls and ceiling for evidence of listening devices. There hadn't been any in the other hotboxes, but one so close to the main house might run under different rules.
An instant later he jerked violently as a jolt of current burned through him.
'Ow!'
'Are you injured?' Draycos asked anxiously.
'No, I'm just fine,' Jack gritted out, his teeth clenched against the fresh waves of pain rolling through his body. The shock itself hadn't been all that painful, but it had reawakened all the nerve endings already scrubbed raw by Gazen's slapstick.
He wondered if Gazen had thought about that part before throwing him in here.
Odds were, he had.
'Jack—'
'No, it's okay,' Jack reassured the dragon. 'Really. If they wanted to kill me, there are easier ways.'
'Nevertheless, it is clearly painful,' Draycos said. 'Move as far as you can to the side.'
'You must be kidding,' Jack said, looking around. Like the regular hotboxes, there wasn't enough spare room in here for a decent hamster cage. 'Move to what side where?'
'Press your body against the right-hand wall,' Draycos ordered, sliding around on Jack's back. 'And raise the lower part of your shirt.'
Another jolt sparked through the mesh. This time, Jack's spasming legs drove the back of his head against the ceiling. 'Now; move quickly,' Draycos said as the current shut off and Jack sagged back down. 'Before it happens again.'
'Sure,' Jack muttered, tasting blood where his clenching teeth had caught the side of his tongue. Rolling partway onto his side, he pressed his chest against the wires and raised the back of his shirt.
Draycos lifted up from his lower back, squeezing himself into the remaining space. The sudden change in the number of occupants shoved Jack hard against the wall, forcing the side of his face up against the cold metal as well.
He closed his eyes, muscles tightening in anticipation and dread. If another shock came now, there would be nowhere for him to even twitch away to.
Draycos's own body would hold him against the mesh until the current knocked him unconscious.
Or else seriously burned him. Maybe even killed him.
Gazen would be very unhappy if that happened. Slaves of the Chookoock family were not supposed to do anything, not even die, without official permission.
The kind of permission Noy had been given this morning.
Abruptly, Draycos melted back onto Jack's skin. 'What?' Jack demanded as the unexpected loss of pressure sent him rolling over onto his back.
'I have altered the wiring,' the dragon said, a grim satisfaction in his voice.
'It will no longer send current through the mesh.'
'Great,' Jack growled. 'At least, not until someone notices and sends out a repairman. Then they'll see what
