The sliding sound of metal on metal is unsettling. It seems to echo through the oddly shaped dungeon, and as Cang slides the lockpick into the lock, he fears the drooling man-things will hear and come investigate. But he’s in luck — if they do hear, they make no show of it. The thin piece of hooked brass reaches the end of the tumblers inside the lock, and Cang holds his breath.
“Need help, Cang?” asks Fassn from somewhere in the darkness.
Cang jerks at the noise, nearly dropping the lockpick.
“Quiet, Fassn,” Shyan says in a firm voice.
Cang steadies his breathing once more and brings the lockpick home. With a careful turn, applying consistent pressure, he feels the lock’s tumblers moving, one by one.
When the last emits a click heard throughout the dungeon, Cang releases his breath. With a tentative yank, the lock slides open. He pushes at the gate and it’s loose. He steps cautiously out of his cell.
“Well,” he says in a low tone. “I am out of here.”
