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. Their
crimes had been petty: pickpocket-ing, insulting a
draconian, trying to escape Port Bali-for. Now they
stretched out raw, bony fingers, pleading for help.
"Hurry, lads, hurry!" said Tom the tailor, pushing to the
front.
"Bless you," husked another prisoner.
"Shut up!" growled the minotaur. "You'll have the whole
army down on us."
Everyone was silent as William fumbled with the ring,
fitting one, then another of the large metal keys into the
lock. Just as he began to think none of the keys would fit,
the heavy door swung free. William stepped back as the
first prisoner stepped out on wobbly legs into the smoky
passageway.
Altogether, there were maybe fifty of them, lucky to be
still alive. They bunched together, pathetically, waiting for a
command from William.
Old Tom the tailor squinted through the dimness at his
masked rescuers. He pointed his finger at William and
raised his voice so the others could hear. "That's William of
the Pig and Whistle. He had the courage to help us. And
Sintk the cobbler. And no one can mistake Halum the
minotaur over there."
"Keep moving," snapped Halum, "and save your jabber."
The stone floor of the main guardroom was slippery with
green blood from the dead draconians. William almost
slipped in the sticky blood, then righted himself and took
the lead. Pressing his fingers against his lips for silence,
William started up the staircase
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