“Perhaps you could use your brute strength to force the bars?” Cang whispers as he slides his lockpick into the iron lock. “As you did on the grounds, above.”
“You saw that?” Shyan whispers back.
“The lich did,” is Cang’s sad, quiet reply.
“Guess he sees a lot.” Shyan catches a glint off a murky eyeball. The man-thing Cang trapped stares at her. It walks into the bars implacably but can make no progress. It just whines and grunts.
“Think it’ll bring others?” Shyan asks.
“Were I the wretch, I would not come down alone.”
A gentle tink sound signals to Cang that his work is done. “Marvelous,” he mutters, without joy. Turning the handle, the cell door swings open with a grating creak, and Shyan is free.
“Thanks, Cang,” she says, a hand on his shoulder. “Wish I could be of more help.”
“Just keep an eye for the beasts and you’ll have done plenty,” Cang says.
Seeing the two moving in the gloom, Fassn springs to his feet, shouting, “Oh, me, me!”
