“Good try,” Ryan said, his gaze moving back and forth across the room. “But save it till we know more. Something is odd here.”
“Yes, it’s the damnedest thing,” Mildred muttered, sniffing the air. “But if this was a torture chamber, it’s cleaner than most hospitals.”
Massaging his wrists, Doc agreed. “A condition that logically makes no sense. Having this grotesque locale disgusting with rotting corpses and such is a good way to soften up a victim’s resolve. It would make it much easier to get the information the person wanted.”
Ryan frowned. “Or mebbe she wants her victims comfortable, so they last longer. Lots of folks get their jollies slicing and dicing for no other reason than to hear the red music.”
“Yes, an intriguing puzzle.”
“Not like puzzles,” Jak stated. Hawking loudly, he spit on his manacles and tried to wiggle his own hands free, to no success.
“The ward won’t tolerate no dirt,” a gruff voice said from the darkness. “No, sir. Utter is a slap. Rust gets ya whipped, and so on.”
Ryan went cold inside, frantically searching for the telltale feeling of cold fingers stroking his brain. He had just been wondering why everything was so bastard clean down here. But fly as he might, there was no sensation of a mutie reading his thoughts.
“Everybody says the same thing first time down here, eh?” Ryan stated.
“Yep. Don’t recognize your voices. What block ya from? Nine? Ten? Or is ya farmers from Detail?”
“Outlanders from beyond the desert,” Krysty replied, staring directly at the cell as if she could see into the lightless interior.
There came a guttural laugh. “Ha! Good story. Nothing out there but the Beast, and folks who like to eat folks. Or so I hear.”
“Also some vines and bugs that eat damn near anything,” Ryan commented. “But on the most part you’re correct”
“Eh?” asked the voice. “You really from outside?”
“What happened? Got caught trying to steal food from the guards?”
“We rescued a woman who called herself Amanda, and got this as a reward.” Ryan shook his chains.
“Blond woman, big chest, green eyes?”
“You know her, then.”
“Yes. I do.”
He paused. “This the truth?”
“As sure as death,” Ryan stated.
“Who are you anyway?” Krysty asked. “Another traveler?”
“Prisoner 224474,” the voice stated. “But my friends call me Shard.”
Ryan looked at Krysty, and she nodded. The other was a prisoner, and not a guard or sec man trying to fool them. With her okay, the companions introduced themselves.
“So, is that blond bitch actually in charge here?” J.B. asked, “or just some gaudy slut hired to tease in the customers?”
Chains rattled, and a disheveled face appeared at the bars. The hair was long and tied back with rag strips, the beard was full, but squared off. His clothes were old and patched a thousand times, but painfully clean. “Never say that to her face, or you’ll get the twisters, right on the spot.”
“Twisters?” Jak repeated.
Shard shuddered.
Probably thumbscrews, Ryan realized, or something similarly medieval. Maybe electric drills. “Sounds bad,” he said. “Ville run by real coldhearts, eh?”
“They got names?” J.B. asked.
“Our lord and leader is the Ward Coultier,”
Shard seemed to be reciting by route. “But his children speak for him-Lady Ward Amanda and Deputy Ward Richard. Heirs to the Citadel. Ain’t personally heard the old ward talk for years. Some say he’s dead, some say worse.”
“And the kids?”
“Bad ones. Hurt for no reason but the liking of it.”
“And this is their torture chamber.”
“They call it Times Square.”
“Just like in prison,” Ryan said. Then he looked around. “Shard, have you ever been outside?”
“Sure, I was out last spring for good behavior. No, it was the spring before that. Mostly I work in the mills and coal mine.”
“Coal mine?” J.B. asked.
Shard stomped the floor. “We’re on top of it. Goes down deep. Straight to hell, some say. I don’t know about such things, but I can swing a pick with the best of them.”
“I can tell you’re a powerful man,” Krysty said, offering a sweet smile. it was clear that Ryan wanted some information from the wreck, and flattery was the only way to bribe Shard at present