"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.