That day was a living nightmare for Djaisiuk. I will not attempt to relate what he experienced, but suffice it to say that no information was gained by any of the means that Drayl could provide on short notice and that were approved by Kandryl. At the end of the day, Djaisiuk was taken again to the small holding cell. When he entered, his eyes fell upon the heaped wreckage of his instrument. He closed his eyes immediately, understanding that Kandryl had had it moved here to provide a continued emotional torment during the times that the physical torment was halted.
Stretching himself out carefully (and painfully) on his small cot, Djaisiuk tried to sleep. His lungs hurt when he breathed; at least one and possibly more of his ribs were broken; his left arm was completely immobile, and it caused him no small amount of pain. These and the fact that the light in the room was never extinguished worked together to make sleep very difficult for Djaisiuk. When at last he did fall asleep, he slept fitfully, and every time he opened his eyes he could see the mass of broken brown and white pieces there scattered about the floor. The night seemed interminable. Even so, when, in the morning, a guard brought a small meal to him, Djaisiuk could think only of the fact that his brief reprieve was now ended; the previous day would now begin again.
Djaisiuk ate the small meal, and the guard led him from the cell. Djaisiuk still made no resistance, but the guard was a little more rough with him today. This could have been simply because he was unable to move as quickly as easily now, Djaisiuk considered.
As they entered the medical ward and continued down a few familiar hallways, Djaisiuk began to guess their destination. Sure enough, they continued straight onward to a room which he had entered before. Djaisiuk inwardly sighed with relief as he recognized the room. There was a medical bed in the center of the room with a small, square device at the right side of the foot of the bed. He knew now what to expect, but it confused him. This would certainly be far gentler a punishment than yesterday. He had expected that today would be just as bad, if not worse. Why would Kandryl wish to lighten the pain?
Kandryl was there. He stood, looking over the preparations of the coming procedure. He looked up as Djaisiuk entered and smiled cruelly.
"Welcome," he said, approaching Djaisiuk. "I'm sure that you recognise this room. Do you remember why you are here?"
Djaisiuk returned Kandryl's gaze emotionlessly for a moment before lowering his eyes to the floor. He thought that he was prepared for whatever they had to offer. But something in Kandryl's bearing confused him; something was wrong.
Kandryl motioned to the guard, and the latter led Djaisiuk to the medical bed.
"I will not stop until you tell me what it is that I want to know," said Kandryl. "You can save yourself much pain by simply telling me now. Does it not seem to you a waste to continue thus when it is plain that you must, eventually, relent?"
Djaisiuk ignored him now. Kandryl simply smiled. He motioned to a medic who brought a tall chair to him. This chair was then positioned next to the left-hand side of the bed, close enough to it that the person sitting could easily reach out and touch the face of the victim strapped there. Kandryl stepped back and motioned Djaisiuk to sit.
Djaisiuk glanced up at Kandryl and his blood ran cold as realization came. Suddenly he wished that yesterday could be relived today rather than what Kandryl apparently had planned. Physical pain was so much easier to bear than emotional, simply because the body provided a means of escape if the pain became too great. With emotional pain, it was not so; there was no natural relief for emotional pain. Absolute madness was the only outlet to which the mind would eventually turn if its own pain grew too great to withstand, and sickness of the mind was the one thing that Djaisiuk feared above all physical injuries. And to witness another person suffering for his own actions was the worst form of emotional torment that Djaisiuk could imagine.
The door opened again to admit two guards leading a second boy.
It was Creole.
Creole had been looking around himself and had not noticed Djaisiuk at first. When he did, he sprang forward with a cry of joy, but guards quickly caught hold of him and pulled him back roughly.
"Djaisiuk," exclaimed Creole, seeming to ignore the guards' interference, "how are you? I've wondered how you were. Do please tell me that you're not really serving them willingly. I'm afraid you may upset my mental balance considerably if you say that you are. You're not, are you?"
Djaisiuk looked at Creole, and, though few of the other observers could see any more than the slightest, almost imperceptible, changes in Djaisiuk's face, Creole breathed a light sigh of relief.
"Oh, I am so glad," he said with a smile. "You can't imagine how relieved I am. They kept telling me that you were, but I never believed it from the start. Although what happened to you?" This last exclamation came with a look of concern as Creole seemed to notice Djaisiuk's left arm, hanging in a rather unnatural position.
The guards had paid no heed to the one-sided conversation and simply moved Creole forward to the bed. Djaisiuk had said nothing, and he lowered his eyes again as Kandryl came forward.
"You know well what we are going to do," said Kandryl, looking at Djaisiuk. "I will ask, and each time you do not answer, a needle will be placed. You did not last above six needles before losing consciousness, but I assure you--"
"Do you mean to say that you submitted Djaisiuk to whatever torture it is to which you now intent to submit me?!" interrupted Creole as the guards strapped him to the medical bed. "You truly are a beast! I know that he didn't submit to you though."
Kandryl ignored him and continued. "I assure you, this one will last many more. You will decide exactly how much he will be forced to endure."
Creole rolled his eyes at this speech and sighed audibly. "Must you be so melodramatic?" he asked. "If you have something that you intend to do, then do it."
"Oh, we will proceed," said Kandryl smoothly, turning now to Creole. "You need have no fear of that. Your friend, for all his intelligence is both stubborn and selfish, and I do not believe that simple threats of violence to those for whom he cares will move him to compliance. Perhaps, however, when he is able to witness your pain first-hand, he may--"
"Your arguments are truly pitiable," interrupted Creole. "If Djaisiuk knows me at all, then he knows that it would be far worse torture to me for him to submit to you out of concern for me than would be anything that you could do to me. So if you truly think that I will help you to draw information from him, you are sorely mistaken."
"We shall see," was Kandryl's only reply, then he turned to oversee the last of the preparations.
Creole tried to move his left arm but found it bound too tightly.
"Djaisiuk," he said. "I cannot move, but would you grant me a great favor? Would you take my hand?"
Djaisiuk looked Creole in the eye and turned slightly so as to place his right hand in Creole's. Djaisiuk's left hand was closer, but, as was mentioned earlier, he could no longer move his left arm. Creole, noticing this, looked at him for a moment in concern, but Djaisiuk's gaze seemed to reassure him. Creole then smiled.
"Djaisiuk, I don't care what they plan to do to me," said Creole firmly, pressing Djaisiuk's hand and looking Djaisiuk in the eye. "I don't want you to give in to them on account of me. That would be harder for me to bear than any pain that they can inflict. Please don't compromise because of me."
The preparations were soon finished, and Kandryl turned again to Djaisiuk.
"Tell me, Djaisiuk," began Kandryl, "what the purpose was for the cancerous program which you implanted?"
Djaisiuk did not answer, and the first needle shot out and into Creole's foot. Creole flinched as the needle entered, and Kandryl was very pleased to see that Djaisiuk flinched as well. So he did feel his friend's pain, Kandryl thought. He opened his mouth to make a comment, but Creole spoke first.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Djaisiuk," said Creole quickly. "I forgot that I was still holding your hand. Have I hurt you?"
Djaisiuk did not answer verbally, but his look (emotionless though it appeared to all else in the room) seemed to comfort Creole.
Kandryl was quite irritated. Djaisiuk had not flinched from emotional pain but from physical: Creole, clenching his fists in the first shock of pain, had doubtless squeezed Djaisiuk's hand uncomfortably hard. Creole was, after all, a strong young man. Creole had realized immediately that he had hurt Djaisiuk and let go the hand quickly. Djaisiuk, however, did not draw back his hand.
"Tell me what you intended to do," said Kandryl to Djaisiuk, his voice low and displaying the slightest edge of anger.
Djaisiuk did not look at Kandryl or respond, and a second needle entered. Creole was careful not to close his hand on Djaisiuk's this time. He was glad for the touch, and he did not want Djaisiuk to draw his hand away, but he certainly did not want to hurt him again.
The command was again repeated and a third needle entered. Creole began to look annoyed. A fourth entered. A fifth. After the sixth, Creole sighed, somewhat impatiently.
"Really, is this all the more that you plan to do?" he asked. "You may as well stop asking your ridiculous questions and just finish with me." He flinched again as another needle entered, for Kandryl chose to ignore Creole and to continue asking, whether the latter spoke or not. Creole, seeing this, felt no qualms about continuing his monologue as the torture progressed. He voiced somewhat of his pain now, finding it easier to interrupt himself with exclamations than with gasps.
"Ouch," he said. "Yes, they are starting to hurt again now, -- ouch! -- but really I don't mind. The only reason why Djaisiuk would answer you, would be to -- ah! -- to stop you from hurting me. But really, it -- ouch! that was a good one -- would hurt me far more if he -- ah! -- if he were to give in to your manipulations. I don't want -- ow! -- I don't want him to tell you anything, so it's really only wasting your time to -- ouch! -- to continue to demand it of him in exchange for -- ouch -- my own personal comfort."
Kandryl still ignored Creole. The first side was finished, and the second side was already well underway, but Djaisiuk showed no signs of relenting. He sat silently, staring down at the floor, refusing to show any sign of emotion.
Creole, on the other hand, seemed almost to be enjoying himself. Of all of the boys, he was the second-best to have been chosen to undergo this physical abuse. Jaeger, having been raised almost in the wild, could endure nearly incredible pain without flinching. Creole, though he had been raised on a farm, had lived most of his life indoors at the IC School. Even so, both from his specialty being engines and from his natural foolhardy nature with regard to physical activities, he had become quite strong for his age, and many were the injuries for which Eriane had had to treat him in the past. He was one not unaccustomed to pain; he could endure it. So it was that he was still in complete control of himself when all twenty needles had been placed. He was, perhaps, breathing a very little bit heavier than usual, and there may have been some sweat on his forehead, but all in all, he seemed quite himself even after this whole affair.
Kandryl was angry. Moru had chosen poorly, it was obvious, in this boy. Moru had learned that this one was closest to Djaisiuk in an emotional sense of all the boys, hence he had suggested that this one would be the one most likely to move Djaisiuk to a confession. Kandryl had simply wanted one with a good tolerance for pain, so that he would be able to endure much without fainting. But he had not wanted one who could endure it all and still smile at the end. All this time had, indeed, been wasted.
Kandryl stepped forward to stand over Djaisiuk.
"I can see that this boy's sufferings have not loosened your tongue," he began, but he was interrupted by a laugh.
"Say rather," laughed Creole, "that you have failed miserably, you sorry excuse for an officer."
Kandryl turned and slapped Creole hard across the face, relieving somewhat of his pent-up frustration in the act.
"Oh, ow!" cried Creole, mockingly. "Oh, you've hurt me! Oh, the pain! I can't endure it! I think you may have dislocated my jaw. I may never be able to speak again, and I'm sure that my good looks are spoilt forever!"
Kandryl clenched his fist, ready to strike again harder, but Creole simply tilted his face towards him with a unique expression that was a strange combination of defiance and pity, and at the same time offering Kandryl the other cheek. This further infuriated Kandryl, but it had somewhat of a calming effect on him at the same time. He would not give in to his anger before this boy who would only mock him for it. He would control himself. Turning again, he motioned to the medic controlling the device encasing Creole's foot and gave the signal to continue.
Kandryl now watched Djaisiuk half-mockingly as the pain of the previous few minutes was revisited on Creole twenty times worse. All of the needles together were pushed further and further into the foot, each releasing their tiny trickle of Scrinerian acid on the way. Creole clenched his teeth, closed his eyes, and tensed his muscles, but he would not cry out. Djaisiuk closed his eyes too and lowered his head, but still he would not speak.
At last the device stopped. Creole's eyes opened, and he began to breathe again. His breath was somewhat ragged now, but not quite gasping. He took a few breaths then smiled up at Kandryl again, though his smile was not quite as bright as it had been previously.
"Ah, so you can do some more," he said, still breathing a little heavily. "Very good. I'm not quite as disappointed in you now. I see that at least some of the stories about you Vukasovians and your abilities must be true."
A moment later, he did cry out, though more because he was caught off-guard than because of the pain, as the needles were all suddenly and simultaneously withdrawn.
Kandryl turned and walked away from the table. He spoke a few words to the guards, then left the room. He was disgusted. The morning had been a complete waste. He would inform Moru immediately of his failure and find out whether the latter had anything else which he considered worth trying. This plan had indeed seemed good. It provided a mental torture for Djaisiuk while doing no long-term damage to the subject and utilized only a test subject at that. But now time was becoming precious. What had Djaisiuk done? What would be the consequences? And how much time did Kandryl have in which to find out before it was too late?
Kandryl ordered that Creole be returned to the holding cell and that Drayl be sent for immediately..
"Drayl, he is yours," said Kandryl, as soon as Drayl had entered. "Moru's first attempt failed more miserably than did yours yesterday. I realize that yesterday I was holding you back, but now I give you leave to go as far as you like. I have only two stipulations: first, if he calls for me or indicates that he wishes to divulge information, you are to cease immediately and completely until I can be summoned. Second, I want him both alive and sane tomorrow morning. Within those perimeters, I give you leave to do as you please. But do not forget my promise of yesterday: I will require his life of you, if you take it."
Stretching himself out carefully (and painfully) on his small cot, Djaisiuk tried to sleep. His lungs hurt when he breathed; at least one and possibly more of his ribs were broken; his left arm was completely immobile, and it caused him no small amount of pain. These and the fact that the light in the room was never extinguished worked together to make sleep very difficult for Djaisiuk. When at last he did fall asleep, he slept fitfully, and every time he opened his eyes he could see the mass of broken brown and white pieces there scattered about the floor. The night seemed interminable. Even so, when, in the morning, a guard brought a small meal to him, Djaisiuk could think only of the fact that his brief reprieve was now ended; the previous day would now begin again.
Djaisiuk ate the small meal, and the guard led him from the cell. Djaisiuk still made no resistance, but the guard was a little more rough with him today. This could have been simply because he was unable to move as quickly as easily now, Djaisiuk considered.
As they entered the medical ward and continued down a few familiar hallways, Djaisiuk began to guess their destination. Sure enough, they continued straight onward to a room which he had entered before. Djaisiuk inwardly sighed with relief as he recognized the room. There was a medical bed in the center of the room with a small, square device at the right side of the foot of the bed. He knew now what to expect, but it confused him. This would certainly be far gentler a punishment than yesterday. He had expected that today would be just as bad, if not worse. Why would Kandryl wish to lighten the pain?
Kandryl was there. He stood, looking over the preparations of the coming procedure. He looked up as Djaisiuk entered and smiled cruelly.
"Welcome," he said, approaching Djaisiuk. "I'm sure that you recognise this room. Do you remember why you are here?"
Djaisiuk returned Kandryl's gaze emotionlessly for a moment before lowering his eyes to the floor. He thought that he was prepared for whatever they had to offer. But something in Kandryl's bearing confused him; something was wrong.
Kandryl motioned to the guard, and the latter led Djaisiuk to the medical bed.
"I will not stop until you tell me what it is that I want to know," said Kandryl. "You can save yourself much pain by simply telling me now. Does it not seem to you a waste to continue thus when it is plain that you must, eventually, relent?"
Djaisiuk ignored him now. Kandryl simply smiled. He motioned to a medic who brought a tall chair to him. This chair was then positioned next to the left-hand side of the bed, close enough to it that the person sitting could easily reach out and touch the face of the victim strapped there. Kandryl stepped back and motioned Djaisiuk to sit.
Djaisiuk glanced up at Kandryl and his blood ran cold as realization came. Suddenly he wished that yesterday could be relived today rather than what Kandryl apparently had planned. Physical pain was so much easier to bear than emotional, simply because the body provided a means of escape if the pain became too great. With emotional pain, it was not so; there was no natural relief for emotional pain. Absolute madness was the only outlet to which the mind would eventually turn if its own pain grew too great to withstand, and sickness of the mind was the one thing that Djaisiuk feared above all physical injuries. And to witness another person suffering for his own actions was the worst form of emotional torment that Djaisiuk could imagine.
The door opened again to admit two guards leading a second boy.
It was Creole.
Creole had been looking around himself and had not noticed Djaisiuk at first. When he did, he sprang forward with a cry of joy, but guards quickly caught hold of him and pulled him back roughly.
"Djaisiuk," exclaimed Creole, seeming to ignore the guards' interference, "how are you? I've wondered how you were. Do please tell me that you're not really serving them willingly. I'm afraid you may upset my mental balance considerably if you say that you are. You're not, are you?"
Djaisiuk looked at Creole, and, though few of the other observers could see any more than the slightest, almost imperceptible, changes in Djaisiuk's face, Creole breathed a light sigh of relief.
"Oh, I am so glad," he said with a smile. "You can't imagine how relieved I am. They kept telling me that you were, but I never believed it from the start. Although what happened to you?" This last exclamation came with a look of concern as Creole seemed to notice Djaisiuk's left arm, hanging in a rather unnatural position.
The guards had paid no heed to the one-sided conversation and simply moved Creole forward to the bed. Djaisiuk had said nothing, and he lowered his eyes again as Kandryl came forward.
"You know well what we are going to do," said Kandryl, looking at Djaisiuk. "I will ask, and each time you do not answer, a needle will be placed. You did not last above six needles before losing consciousness, but I assure you--"
"Do you mean to say that you submitted Djaisiuk to whatever torture it is to which you now intent to submit me?!" interrupted Creole as the guards strapped him to the medical bed. "You truly are a beast! I know that he didn't submit to you though."
Kandryl ignored him and continued. "I assure you, this one will last many more. You will decide exactly how much he will be forced to endure."
Creole rolled his eyes at this speech and sighed audibly. "Must you be so melodramatic?" he asked. "If you have something that you intend to do, then do it."
"Oh, we will proceed," said Kandryl smoothly, turning now to Creole. "You need have no fear of that. Your friend, for all his intelligence is both stubborn and selfish, and I do not believe that simple threats of violence to those for whom he cares will move him to compliance. Perhaps, however, when he is able to witness your pain first-hand, he may--"
"Your arguments are truly pitiable," interrupted Creole. "If Djaisiuk knows me at all, then he knows that it would be far worse torture to me for him to submit to you out of concern for me than would be anything that you could do to me. So if you truly think that I will help you to draw information from him, you are sorely mistaken."
"We shall see," was Kandryl's only reply, then he turned to oversee the last of the preparations.
Creole tried to move his left arm but found it bound too tightly.
"Djaisiuk," he said. "I cannot move, but would you grant me a great favor? Would you take my hand?"
Djaisiuk looked Creole in the eye and turned slightly so as to place his right hand in Creole's. Djaisiuk's left hand was closer, but, as was mentioned earlier, he could no longer move his left arm. Creole, noticing this, looked at him for a moment in concern, but Djaisiuk's gaze seemed to reassure him. Creole then smiled.
"Djaisiuk, I don't care what they plan to do to me," said Creole firmly, pressing Djaisiuk's hand and looking Djaisiuk in the eye. "I don't want you to give in to them on account of me. That would be harder for me to bear than any pain that they can inflict. Please don't compromise because of me."
The preparations were soon finished, and Kandryl turned again to Djaisiuk.
"Tell me, Djaisiuk," began Kandryl, "what the purpose was for the cancerous program which you implanted?"
Djaisiuk did not answer, and the first needle shot out and into Creole's foot. Creole flinched as the needle entered, and Kandryl was very pleased to see that Djaisiuk flinched as well. So he did feel his friend's pain, Kandryl thought. He opened his mouth to make a comment, but Creole spoke first.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Djaisiuk," said Creole quickly. "I forgot that I was still holding your hand. Have I hurt you?"
Djaisiuk did not answer verbally, but his look (emotionless though it appeared to all else in the room) seemed to comfort Creole.
Kandryl was quite irritated. Djaisiuk had not flinched from emotional pain but from physical: Creole, clenching his fists in the first shock of pain, had doubtless squeezed Djaisiuk's hand uncomfortably hard. Creole was, after all, a strong young man. Creole had realized immediately that he had hurt Djaisiuk and let go the hand quickly. Djaisiuk, however, did not draw back his hand.
"Tell me what you intended to do," said Kandryl to Djaisiuk, his voice low and displaying the slightest edge of anger.
Djaisiuk did not look at Kandryl or respond, and a second needle entered. Creole was careful not to close his hand on Djaisiuk's this time. He was glad for the touch, and he did not want Djaisiuk to draw his hand away, but he certainly did not want to hurt him again.
The command was again repeated and a third needle entered. Creole began to look annoyed. A fourth entered. A fifth. After the sixth, Creole sighed, somewhat impatiently.
"Really, is this all the more that you plan to do?" he asked. "You may as well stop asking your ridiculous questions and just finish with me." He flinched again as another needle entered, for Kandryl chose to ignore Creole and to continue asking, whether the latter spoke or not. Creole, seeing this, felt no qualms about continuing his monologue as the torture progressed. He voiced somewhat of his pain now, finding it easier to interrupt himself with exclamations than with gasps.
"Ouch," he said. "Yes, they are starting to hurt again now, -- ouch! -- but really I don't mind. The only reason why Djaisiuk would answer you, would be to -- ah! -- to stop you from hurting me. But really, it -- ouch! that was a good one -- would hurt me far more if he -- ah! -- if he were to give in to your manipulations. I don't want -- ow! -- I don't want him to tell you anything, so it's really only wasting your time to -- ouch! -- to continue to demand it of him in exchange for -- ouch -- my own personal comfort."
Kandryl still ignored Creole. The first side was finished, and the second side was already well underway, but Djaisiuk showed no signs of relenting. He sat silently, staring down at the floor, refusing to show any sign of emotion.
Creole, on the other hand, seemed almost to be enjoying himself. Of all of the boys, he was the second-best to have been chosen to undergo this physical abuse. Jaeger, having been raised almost in the wild, could endure nearly incredible pain without flinching. Creole, though he had been raised on a farm, had lived most of his life indoors at the IC School. Even so, both from his specialty being engines and from his natural foolhardy nature with regard to physical activities, he had become quite strong for his age, and many were the injuries for which Eriane had had to treat him in the past. He was one not unaccustomed to pain; he could endure it. So it was that he was still in complete control of himself when all twenty needles had been placed. He was, perhaps, breathing a very little bit heavier than usual, and there may have been some sweat on his forehead, but all in all, he seemed quite himself even after this whole affair.
Kandryl was angry. Moru had chosen poorly, it was obvious, in this boy. Moru had learned that this one was closest to Djaisiuk in an emotional sense of all the boys, hence he had suggested that this one would be the one most likely to move Djaisiuk to a confession. Kandryl had simply wanted one with a good tolerance for pain, so that he would be able to endure much without fainting. But he had not wanted one who could endure it all and still smile at the end. All this time had, indeed, been wasted.
Kandryl stepped forward to stand over Djaisiuk.
"I can see that this boy's sufferings have not loosened your tongue," he began, but he was interrupted by a laugh.
"Say rather," laughed Creole, "that you have failed miserably, you sorry excuse for an officer."
Kandryl turned and slapped Creole hard across the face, relieving somewhat of his pent-up frustration in the act.
"Oh, ow!" cried Creole, mockingly. "Oh, you've hurt me! Oh, the pain! I can't endure it! I think you may have dislocated my jaw. I may never be able to speak again, and I'm sure that my good looks are spoilt forever!"
Kandryl clenched his fist, ready to strike again harder, but Creole simply tilted his face towards him with a unique expression that was a strange combination of defiance and pity, and at the same time offering Kandryl the other cheek. This further infuriated Kandryl, but it had somewhat of a calming effect on him at the same time. He would not give in to his anger before this boy who would only mock him for it. He would control himself. Turning again, he motioned to the medic controlling the device encasing Creole's foot and gave the signal to continue.
Kandryl now watched Djaisiuk half-mockingly as the pain of the previous few minutes was revisited on Creole twenty times worse. All of the needles together were pushed further and further into the foot, each releasing their tiny trickle of Scrinerian acid on the way. Creole clenched his teeth, closed his eyes, and tensed his muscles, but he would not cry out. Djaisiuk closed his eyes too and lowered his head, but still he would not speak.
At last the device stopped. Creole's eyes opened, and he began to breathe again. His breath was somewhat ragged now, but not quite gasping. He took a few breaths then smiled up at Kandryl again, though his smile was not quite as bright as it had been previously.
"Ah, so you can do some more," he said, still breathing a little heavily. "Very good. I'm not quite as disappointed in you now. I see that at least some of the stories about you Vukasovians and your abilities must be true."
A moment later, he did cry out, though more because he was caught off-guard than because of the pain, as the needles were all suddenly and simultaneously withdrawn.
Kandryl turned and walked away from the table. He spoke a few words to the guards, then left the room. He was disgusted. The morning had been a complete waste. He would inform Moru immediately of his failure and find out whether the latter had anything else which he considered worth trying. This plan had indeed seemed good. It provided a mental torture for Djaisiuk while doing no long-term damage to the subject and utilized only a test subject at that. But now time was becoming precious. What had Djaisiuk done? What would be the consequences? And how much time did Kandryl have in which to find out before it was too late?
Kandryl ordered that Creole be returned to the holding cell and that Drayl be sent for immediately..
"Drayl, he is yours," said Kandryl, as soon as Drayl had entered. "Moru's first attempt failed more miserably than did yours yesterday. I realize that yesterday I was holding you back, but now I give you leave to go as far as you like. I have only two stipulations: first, if he calls for me or indicates that he wishes to divulge information, you are to cease immediately and completely until I can be summoned. Second, I want him both alive and sane tomorrow morning. Within those perimeters, I give you leave to do as you please. But do not forget my promise of yesterday: I will require his life of you, if you take it."
* * * * * * *
That night, after he had been in the hands of Drayl for a full nine hours, Djaisiuk was carried back to the same prison cell. Again he was met with the gruesome spectacle of his destroyed instrument which still lay in a heap on the floor, and again he closed his eyes as they entered. As the guards then left him, laying him on the cot provided, Djaisiuk considered with mild surprise how much the pain from the loss of his piano had dimmed over the last twenty-four hours. It still hurt to think about it, but in comparison to all else that he had endured, it seemed almost trivial. It wasn't as though he would have been capable of playing it for some time, even had it still been whole. Even so, he would not look at it.
Djaisiuk lay silently, wondering vaguely what Kandryl would do next. He would not threaten the lives of any of the other boys, or, if he did, it would certainly be a bluff; Djaisiuk knew that he would not take the lives of any of them yet. Even so, this morning's incident had awakened the realization that Kandryl might do much without actually killing or even permanently damaging any of the boys. They could still be used against Djaisiuk himself. He was somewhat comforted knowing that the tortures to which he was now being subjected would not be used on the others, unless at the last extreme. Kandryl would go to almost any lengths to break Djaisiuk, but he would not permanently damage his other workers to do so.
The last words that Creole had spoken as Djaisiuk was taken from the room came back to him now: "Don't give in to them, Djaisiuk," Creole had called. "Show them that we're a stronger race than they know; don't give in!"
Djaisiuk had no intention of 'giving in,' but he began to wonder whether he would survive. He had never before had to endure pain. When he had lived at home on his parents' farm as a small boy, he had been too young and too cautious to be exposed to any great dangers. When he had joined the school, his profession had provided no dangers to which he might be exposed. The greatest pain that he could ever remember experiencing prior to this capture was a short, strong electrical shock once, three and a half years ago. That had seemed incredible pain at the time. Now, it seemed trifling. The physical pain that he felt even now was more than he had ever imagined. He wondered vaguely how much damage had truly been done to him. He had been able to make a guess on the previous night, but now he had stopped even trying to think about it. He wondered how much longer he would last.
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