The area behind the heavy doors was a short hallway which was just deep enough for the doors to open into without sticking out into the larger space beyond.
The room split up to the left and right, with cell doors clearly visible in the walls. Opposite the heavy doors was another small hallway leading further into the area, another such space visible further ahead.
I squinted in the lower light conditions and could make out a third such hall even further back. In so far as this dungeon was concerned, it was using the space available in the depths of the mountain by just lining up the cells in rows wherever they could be hewn out.
"First section is for the most privileged. Single and dual pony cells in this hallway. I'll put you two in a cell to the right here," Deadbolt said after closing the doors behind us again. "Second section has slightly bigger cells, but also more ponies per cell. If you're respectful to me here, you won't have to go there. Group cells are in the third section. Only the nastiest prisoners end up there."
"So where do you keep those Changelings they mentioned earlier?" Camellia wondered.
"Most are in the second section, but a lot of them have moved to third," Deadbolt stated calmly. "The more violent share a cell together; they can be violent among themselves."
"I could feel them even from this far away," Burst grumbled, trying to keep calm.
"I wish I knew how to calm them down. I tend to have a knack for calming even the worst prisoners down over time, but they seem like they're lost to reason," our jailer mused.
I looked back at the locked doors. "Those doors. They are strong enough for even strong stallion guards to have trouble getting through without a key, aren't they?"
"It would take them some effort, yes," Deadbolt agreed. "You won't escape that easily."
"I was thinking more about your son and his friends coming in," I whispered under my breath.
"Ah, maybe wait until we're near that cell he wants to put you in," Camellia whispered back to me.
"Can we put them into a cell so I can return to my garden already?" Meadowsweet whined to speed the process along. "I don't like being down here. It's too dark and damp."
"Right you are," Deabolt agreed, motioning to the right. "Up ahead to the right. Fifth cell on the left. Let me grab the right key."
I watched him as he took the key from the heavy doors we had come through and put it in an open crate full of keys, then sifted through them with a small amount of magic emitted from his horn until he pulled another one out from the collection.
"Finding the right key for the right door is a trick in and of itself, I see," Camellia suggested. "I'm sure it helps with security?"
"Oh yes," Deadbolt agreed, putting the key he dug up in his mouth and moving it slightly to the side of his muzzle so he could still speak. "Close to a hundred keys, and only half of them fit on the cell doors. If you don't know the right markings, you'll have to try them all to find the right one for the right door. By the time you're through them, the guards outside will have come in with the spare key and be able to put you back in your cell."
"Right. No worries of prisoners escaping then," Camellia coughed, unable to hide her unease. "I have to agree with Meadowsweet; the sooner we're back up, the better. Was there a reason we had to come along with you if you're putting these Changelings in such a secure place?"
"Ah, I just thought you might want to select a cell of your own for when your lies are revealed," Deadbolt spoke as he walked through our little group toward the cell he had pointed out. "I told you; I have lived long enough that I can detect lies when I hear them."
We collectively stopped walking, and Meadowsweet sputtered in surprised anguish.
"I am sure you have a good reason for siding with the Changelings you've brought here, but the princess told me to lock them up and I see no reason to shirk my duties just because one of them knows proper manners," the stallion continued.
He walked up to one particular door and put his key into the lock, turned it, and then opened the door to the cell.
He finally turned to look at our little group and smiled wearily. "There's nothing you can say; I've heard every excuse in the book. You two will each get your own cell, separate from the two Changelings named after gems."
Somehow this lone stallion had changed the game around; from us four being able to overpower him to him now holding us hostage until we were put in cells and...
"And then what?" I asked. "What happens when we're locked up? What will you do with these ponies?"
"I'll send for an interrogator. They will figure out what your plan is and decide what to do with you from that point on. I'm just here to put prisoners in cells and care for them while they're here," the stallion explained. "I don't care much about the details beyond that."
"Surely you do? Surely you care. You have a son. You value respect," I pointed out. "You noticed we were here under false pretenses. You know we can't transform ourselves with this magic field being in effect. Aren't you the least bit curious?"
"Nope," Deadbolt returned simply. "If you live as long as me you'll know that smarter ponies than yourself will figure out what's what. In the grand scheme of things it won't matter all that much; prisoners for all kinds of offenses come by, get interrogated, judged according to their crime, and they either leave after serving their sentence or get carried out of here. It's not my place to judge whether someone belongs here or not."
"But you are," Burst interjected now, jumping forward in agitation. "You're judging that our friends need to be put in cells just because we told a lie about why and how we're here! You've got all our family members down here and you're the one judging whether they need to be in the first, second, or last section depending on behavior! You're judging us while we're talking!"
"I didn't say it was the last section," Deadbolt pointed out calmly, but with a decided narrowing of his eyes. "I did say to stay respectful."
"How can I be expected to be respectful to somepony who ignores the sacrifice our friends made to get us here? How can I be respectful to somepony who judges me for my appearance and how I need to feed instead of listening to who I am beyond that?" Burst exclaimed. "I have a life! I have a mare waiting for me! We've been trying to get a foal of our own for years, but I was thinking of adopting Pearl since she's quickly become a favorite sibling of mine. You don't even care?"
"Wait, what?" I spoke up, startled at this new revelation.
"Calm down there," the stallion warned. "It's not my place to decide what goes on topside. I'm in charge of the dungeon. I care for the dungeon and those who are imprisoned here. I don't make the decision to keep them here. That's up to others. But I won't let somepony walk out when they're obviously involved in something which needs further investigating."
"So you DO judge!" Burst all-but screamed.
Deadbolt turned for the cell door and closed it. "And that was the last of it. Now you're going to the second section."
"You don't even... I..." Burst started, then suddenly charged forward as if possessed.
"Oval, no!" I called out after her, trying to cut her off before she rammed into the stallion.
There was a sudden pull of magic and both Oval and me stopped in mid-step, held in place.
"I'm not as weak as I might appear at first glance," our jailor spoke calmly, his horn glowing with the magic he held us down with.
"Let go of my friends," Camellia warned, walking closer to us while her own horn charged up with energy. "Meadowsweet, get back."
"And now you're all going to the second section," Deadbolt decided as if he was entirely unphased by our actions.
I felt the anger and frustration my sister was feeling, the rising anger at seeing her friends treated this way which Camellia felt, the fear we all felt when faced with the prospect of being incarcerated like this with no hope out.
Our little plan had failed, and I felt horrible. Absolutely horrible.
Something sickly was welling up in the back of my throat and...
No, wait, I had resin glands in the back of my throat. I felt my resin glands spring to action as if I had no control over them; they were instinctively producing resin because I was threatened and my body decided to go into fight mode.
I thought back to my training; I could make different kinds of resin if I just changed the way I projected it out. Which was the best in this situation? The quick-hardening one, most likely.
My mouth filled with the goop I needed, and I projectile vomited it out in the direction of Oval, covering her head to hoof in the green quick-drying cement while we were both held by Deadbolt's magic.
I emptied my resin glands, then spat the last few chunks to the floor so I wouldn't weld my mouth shut.
An uneasy silence fell around us, but then Deadbolt's magic put the both of us down and dissipated.
"Okay, I have never, in all my years, seen that happen," he stated. "Been spat on myself, on numerous occasions. Headbutted nearly twice as often. I have not seen you Changelings turn on one another; that is a new one."
"You value respect, don't you?" I spoke.
"That I do," he agreed.
"Yet you don't respect us. You don't listen to us. You don't give us a chance to explain our situation," I listed. "You don't let us get a word in and project this stoic solid wall of 'I have seen it all and there is nothing you can do to move me'. Is there any way I could have a one on one with you, just to convince you something is going on here and give us a chance to plead to you to consider a different viewpoint?"
Deadbolt looked at Bolt, frozen in place as she was by my resin rather than his magic, then sighed out deeply. "Okay, how about your companion chips this one out of that stuff with her magic, and you and me retreat to this double cell here? If you can convince me, we both walk out again. If you don't, I walk out on my own and your sibling here walks in on her own accord once chipped out."
"Deal," I agreed.