Agony exploded, shooting straight from his left palm into his brain.
The guard's scream forced its way past his clenched teeth. His fingers twitched spasmodically, but the ** piercing his palm pinned it firmly to the floor.
The blade sank three inches into the stone slab without budging.
"Your right hand is next."
The voice beneath the hood was as steady as someone discussing the weather. "Then both feet, and finally your neck."
Screams and calm questions and answers intertwined in the dimness.
The other sleepers in the room remained utterly unresponsive, as though an invisible barrier had cut them off in another world.
The stalemate continued until a certain breaking point.
"Tough one."
The white-robed man took a brass pocket watch from inside his robe. Its chain dangled, tracing a faint arc of light in the gloom. "Look at it. Count to three, and you'll forget all of this."
The guard instinctively tried to close his eyes-
"Three."
In the instant before darkness swallowed his consciousness, only half a curse flashed through his mind.
The pocket watch went back inside the robe.
The white-robed man glanced at the unconscious figure on the floor.
The wound looked horrifying, but it had deftly avoided the major blood vessels and nerves. For a trained body, it amounted to no more than a flesh wound.
He lifted his foot and turned toward the next bunk.
His boot struck a set of ribs.
The second guard woke to the dull pain of falling off his bunk, a foot already planted on his chest.
An icy blade plunged into the floor beside his ear, its vibration making his skull tingle.
"Where is Magellan's antidote stored?"
Time passed amid the oppressive questions and answers.
When the last guard crumpled to the floor, the white-robed man