“Did anyone ever come to take you out of your cell while you were inside it?”

“Yes.”

“And where did they take you?” Quest asked, which seemed an innocent enough question. He was only trying to map the rest of the prison, which was smart.

Wolfe let out a sound that raised the hair on the back of Jess’s neck, and Santi almost lunged forward, but Quest’s gaze flicked to him and the Mesmer shook his head. “Breathe, Scholar Wolfe. Relax,” Quest said. “You feel no pain, remember? There is no pain now; you are merely watching this from a distance. It isn’t happening to you at all. Step back. Just step away and let it go.”

The terrible keening sound went on and grew sharper, and even the Mesmer seemed taken aback by it now. He reached out and put his hand on Wolfe’s shoulder. “Scholar,” he said. “Scholar. You are now outside of the cell, do you hear me? You are standing outside the cell. There is no pain at all. You feel peaceful. Calm.”

It was no good. Wolfe’s buried scream was growing louder and he wasn’t listening.

“That’s enough,” Santi shouted, and lunged forward. “Bring him out! Now!” He sounded as shaken as Jess felt.

“All right,” Quest said. “Scholar Wolfe! Scholar!” He briskly tapped Wolfe’s forehead, then his shoulder, then the back of his hand. “Exeunt!”

Wolfe’s cry stopped cleanly, and he slumped back in his chair, utterly limp. Santi shoved Quest out of the way and sank down to a crouch beside Wolfe to take his hand. He was checking the other man’s pulse, Jess realized, as much as holding his hand.

Wolfe slowly raised his head. His color was terrible and his eyes looked dull and strange, but they were open, and after a blank moment that seemed to stretch forever, he looked directly at Santi and said, “It must have been terrible if you look so worried.”

Jess saw the intense relief flash over the captain’s face before his expression closed again. “Not so bad,” Santi lied. “And now you’re back.”

Wolfe put his hand over Santi’s, and there it was again: a little flash of gentleness, sorrow, love. Jess looked away, and when he turned back, Santi was rising to his feet and turning to Quest. “You, Mesmer,” Santi said. “Get out. If there’s any whisper about any of this, I’ll kill you.”

“Sir,” Quest said, “I am a professional. There is no need to threaten.” He hesitated for a moment and then said, “And as a professional, I would be wrong not to tell you that something terrible was done to your friend, and that will fester inside if the wound isn’t lanced. I am willing to offer my continued services at a reasonable—”

“It’s none of your business,” Santi said. “Jess. Get rid of him. Now.”

Jess nodded and grabbed Quest’s arm to tow him to the door. He handed over the second, heavier sack of geneih coins—the half Quest was due, plus a hefty bonus. “Leave,” he said. “Forget about this. He’s quite serious about killing you if you don’t.”