Prisoner of Glass by Mark Jeffrey

not kidding!   Kill me painlessly before those things do!
    And the Kings did.   They stabbed him with shivs of all different kinds.   Then, they tossed his body back into his cell and slammed the door shut.  
    The prisoners howled their approval.  
    Jesus, Elspeth thought.   That was cold.  

    THAT MORNING, the mist was back.
    And so was the earthquake.   The entire prison rattled top to bottom, just as it had a little over a week ago.   Card cursed like a sailor — but deep fear soaked every one of his little naughty words.   He hated earthquakes.
    But when he played his record after breakfast, he was surprised to find that the scratch was gone.   Card replayed the same spot in the music several times to be sure.  
    “Well, if that ain’t the damnedest thing,” Card muttered.

    “I WANT TO know what those goddamn things were,” Elspeth demanded of the Vizier.   “Those fire monsters or whatever.   The things that killed Milton before.”
    This time, a guard had approached Elspeth and asked if she wanted a second visit.   That turbanned sonofabitch , she breathed.   Clearly, he was able to make the guards his bidding.   He could even send them around as his errand boys, apparently.   And the Vizier must have sensed that Elspeth wanted to talk.   Damn him anyway.  
    She wondered if he was Al-Qaeda, and whether he was secretly the warden of the entire Prison.   It would explain a lot.
    The Vizier shrugged.   “Everyone has their appointed time,” he said.  
    “What does that mean?’
    “You are a physician.   You know that no man can escape death.”
    “Well, it sure seemed like he was trying to escape, getting himself locked him up like that.   And what did he mean when he said, ‘you can’t throw me over the edge this time’?   What was with the this time ?”
    The Vizier stifled a laugh.   “A while ago, the guards decided that it would be amusing to drop Milton from the top of the Panopticon.”   Elspeth stared at him in horror.   In answer to her stare, he said.   “Oh yes.   They climbed the tower and tossed him off, sure as that.”
    “Why did they do that?”   The Vizier shrugged.   “And that time — he lived then, also?”
    “Evidently.”   Elspeth pictured the fall in her mind.   It would be like falling from a skyscraper.   Nobody could survive that!   “Don’t look so surprised.   You’ve seen how things can come back in this Prison.   Or have you forgotten your finger?”   She looked down at it involuntarily and wiggled it.   Impossible finger on her impossible hand in an impossible Prison …  
    Things can come back …  
    “So was he actually completely dead when the fire monsters came?   Maybe he was just wounded.”
    The Vizier nodded slowly.   “Oh no.   He was dead.   My sources say they removed his body right after.   Well.   Shoveled and mopped him out, more accurately.   Poor Milton was no more than a pile of pulp and mash.”
    “Wow.   Yeah, it seemed like even the guards were afraid of that fire thing,” Elspeth mused.   “I don’t think they controlled it.”
    The Vizier smiled.   “You might be right.”
    “Maybe we could make an alliance with it,” Elspeth said.   “Maybe we could —”  
    But the Vizier shook his head.   “One cannot make an alliance with the wind.   Or the sea.”
    “You know what this thing is, don’t you?” The Vizier remained silent, his dark, old, ancient eyes fixed on her with a stone gaze.   “And you’re not going to tell me.   For absolutely no reason at all.   Just because you enjoy being annoying and mysterious.”
    “No.   It is because it is not in my interest to tell you,” he said finally.   “That would work cross to my purpose.”
    “And what is your purpose?”
    “To get back on The Road.”
    “Ah.   So we’re back to that again.   The Road .”
    Silence.  
    “Okay.   What is it you want from me?”
    At that, he fixed her with new purpose in his