Very well, then. His head had missed the wall, fortunately, though he didn't know how close he'd come to it (it was best not to know). He would ask no more questions nor say anything more if he could help it. And any threats against his fingers would, indeed, be carefully observed. He held his tongue. He would be useful, such as he could be, and spend what time he had considering other ways to escape. He would keep silent.

But there had been nothing said about movement. He would try to keep as still as possible--no need to bring on any more threats--but it had since become clear to him that he had not been well checked before he'd been set down and tied up. And, as it happened, his Network device was still in his pocket.

The sound of knives being whetted and sharpened was hardly a pleasant one in such a situation, but perhaps, if his captor was distracted, he could still reach the Network--or, if not now, then soon--and at least make it somehow known what had happened to him. He would have to keep his device safe, as best he could, even with bound hands and a blindfold.

He checked his wry smile before it broke on his face, but the thought still amused him: what would his father think to find that someone else had captured him? What a wretched knot to tie in his plans.

He found his device in his hands now and set to work as carefully as he could sending some kind of message...