First there was the cell, which was in the basement of the Town Hall. It was damp and the air was not too good, but there were compensations. Rats, for instance. Jonas told himself, after the first couple of hours, that he simply wouldn't have known what to do without the rats. Trying to trap and kill them, with no weapons beyond his bare hands--even an eating knife he had carried in his jerkin had been taken away, leaving him to the uncomfortable reflection that he was going to have to dine with his fingers--was a pastime that occupied him for several hours on the first day. On the second day, the rats began to bore him. By that evening, they were annoying him, and when the third day dawned bright and warm--as near as he could tell from the tiny slip of window at the top of his cell--Jonas was telling himself that any move at all was a move in the right direction. He set up a shout for one of the guards. The bald one had brought his meals every day, but the black-haired one was the man who checked his cell at night. For once, Jonas thought, he was lucky; the bald man appeared, after some fifteen minutes of screaming and cursing. Jonas was not at all sure whether the black-haired man understood language: there was little trace of it in his mind, and virtually nothing that might be called intelligence. With the bald man, at least, he could communicate. "What's wanted?" the guard said sourly, staring through the bars. Jonas smiled softly. "You know why I'm here, don't you?" he said in a voice as close to silky as he could make it. "You?" the bald man said. "You're here. In a cell." "That's right," Jonas said patiently. He rubbed at his face. "Do you know why I was put here?" "You--cast spells. You make things happen." "That's right," Jonas said, smiling again. "I'm a wizard. A warlock. That's what they say, isn't it?" "You--make things happen," the bald man said. But he had the basic idea; Jonas checked that in his mind. "Very well," he said. "Now, I wish to see Herr Knupf." "The Inquisitor calls you when he wants you," the bald man said. "Now," Jonas said. "When he wants--" "If I am a wizard," Jonas said, "I have powers. Strange powers. I could make you--" He reflected for a minute. "I could make you into a beetle, and squash you underfoot. As a matter of fact, I think I will." He gazed reflectively at the bald man, who gulped and turned a little pale. "You ... you are in a cell," he said at last. "Locked up." "Do you think that will stop me?" Jonas said. He came to the barred door, still smiling. "You would not dare--" "Why not?" Jonas asked. "What have I got to lose?" He raised one hand, clawing the fingers slightly. He took a deep breath, as if he were about to spit out an incantation. His eyes glittered. The smile broadened. A long second passed. "I will tell the Inquisitor you wish to see him," the bald guard said.