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. Not all of his stories," he hastily added. "Just one of
them."
Vigre gave up trying to figure out the kender's intentions
and simply said, "Spinner could make a fine, though tragic,
tale of the battle in the city. So let's make sure that he lives
to tell it. I'll take what's left of our force and fight our way
through the prison till we find our storyteller."
"But there aren't enough of you," Quinby declared.
"You're going to need help. I'll take some kender and go
with you."
"And I'll come, too," volunteered Barsh. "I'll bring a
small troop of gnomes along."
Vigre couldn't refuse. He knew they were right. There
was no telling how many of the Dragon Highlord's soldiers
were waiting for them inside the prison's labyrinth of cells.
"Come on," he said. "Spinner must be wondering what
all the noise is about."
I was, indeed, wondering what all the noise was about.
The night had nearly passed, and I waited for the dawning,
resigned to my fate. My cellmate, Davin, had listened to me
throughout the night, offering not a word of his own.
Then I heard shouts and screams filtering down to the
depths of the filthy dungeon where I had been left to
languish until my death.
"What's going on?" I called out to a dragonarmy guard
who raced past the cell
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