"That went well." Adena hung suspended by her wrists from manacles set in the solid stone wall of the cell.
Greg raised his head. She saw his lip had been split from his struggles as the guards dragged them to the holding area. A developing black eye colored the left side of his face. He glowered. "I dispute your definition of 'well,' Adena."
"We're alive." She flexed her arms and shoulders, tried to move her legs as far as she could in the confines of the chains. Bruises and cuts announced their presence, but she couldn't feel any serious injuries. "For a Pure Blood, that's merciful."
"I guess." He moved his jaw. "Those guards weren't too gentle, though."
"Yes, but they could've worked us over far worse. They didn't have time to do so. I think our friendly silver girl is creating havoc in their midst, and they need all hands to deal with her."
"What is that thing? It looked like something out of The Outer Limits."
"I've no idea what you speak of, but if it involves killing machines, you're probably right."
Greg cocked his head. "You don't think it's a living thing?"
"No — well, not living as you or I would understand it. I have a hunch it's a relic from the Pure Bloods' past." She shook her head. "How Erasmus the merchant got hold of it I don't know, but he'll have some explaining to do when we get home."
"You think we'll get home — your home, that is?"
She forced a smile. "Never say die, Greg. I've been in worse situations."
He grimaced. "I hate to think how much worse those situations were compared to this."
"The scumbags could be torturing us right now."
Greg sighed. "I guess."
Adena took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "We will have to move, Greg. There's no percentage in lollygagging around in these chains much longer."
"Lollygagging?" He sounded incredulous.
Adena ignored him. She craned her neck to peer up at the chains where they'd been looped through a staple in the wall a couple of feet above her head. The staple showed clear signs of corrosion. She tightened her grip on the chain and lifted her feet off the ground, putting weight on the staple. It creaked and flakes of damp cinnamon-red rust fell about her head and shoulders. Greg watched her movements with hope on his face. She assayed a tight smile and set her feet on the ground.
"Let's try again, with a little more violence," she said.
This time Adena jumped up a foot or so above the floor and brought all her weight to bear. Her arm muscles protested at the abuse, but a sharp ping of metal under stress echoed in the small chamber. She felt something give. More rust fell.
Greg straightened up. "Once more's the charm?"
"I hope..."
The small barred window in the cell door flared with yellow light. Adena stopped what she was doing as the door swung open. Two Quadsang guards bearing flaming torches entered and took up station on either side of the door. The Pure Blood woman followed on their heels. Her left arm terminated below her elbow. Bloody bandages swathed what was left. Tatters of torn and bloodied clothing hung from her spare frame. The woman's face bore a white sheen that went beyond the habitual Pure Blood pallor. Her hair, which had been set in a neat upswept style when Adena had last seen her, now hung in limp strands. Adena felt a renewed thrill of revulsion as she thought of the kind of force and speed required to inflict such injuries on a Pure Blood.
For a long moment the woman stared at her as smoke trailed up from her guards' torches. The sheer fury on the Pure Blood's face caused Adena's heart to sink with apprehension.
"You!" The woman's voice cracked around the room. "You brought that thing to our city!" She strode over to Adena, gripped her hair with one hand and dragged her head back until her vertebra creaked under the strain. Eyes the color of basalt glared into Adena's from mere inches away. "You will tell me everything. Everything."
Adena could only gasp in pain as her hair threatened to tear loose from the roots. The woman snapped her fingers. One of the guards placed his torch in a sconce then came over and bowed to her. The woman stepped back and pointed without looking to Greg. "Hurt him."
The guard bowed again. He tugged the silvery cylinder she'd seen before from his belt, made an adjustment to a control on the base then went over to Greg. The Quadsang had a calculating look in his eyes as he examined him. Greg shrank back wide-eyed. The guard ripped open Greg's coat and touched the end of the cylinder to his bare chest. A fat blue spark flashed. Greg screamed and convulsed. With clinical detachment, the guard waited until Greg sagged in his chains then touched him again with the device. Greg screamed again, a sound that tore at Adena's heart.
"Stop!" she shouted.
The woman looked at her with an eyebrow raised in inquiry. "Well?"
"The creature came from cargo we hauled here. We had no idea what the consignment contained."
The woman gestured to the guard. Greg screamed again, and Adena flung herself against the restraints. "Stop it! You're killing him!"
"Indeed, I will, if you're lying."
Adena glared at her. "I'm telling the truth, damn you!"
The basalt eyes glittered in the torchlight. "Very well. Who sent the cargo?"
"Erasmus the Merchant, of Penumbra City." Adena gazed at Greg, who had fallen limp in his chains. "I speak the truth. Let him be!"
"Where did he get the creature from?"
"I don't know. I don't know!" Adena shouted as the guard raised the cylinder again. "Erasmus deals with all kinds of stuff. He has contacts with the tribes living on the day side. Perhaps they traded it with him."
The woman stepped back and considered. She began to tease her
