247
A piercing cry wakes you with a start. The sickly, old Shianti priest is sitting bolt upright in bed, silhouetted by the pale rays of the moon that shine through the high window of your cell.
‘A vision, a vision,’ he cries, ‘sent from my masters.’ He turns and points a gnarled finger towards you. ‘You … ’ he shouts, ‘you must be helped … Come closer, young one.’ He rises to his feet, stumbles towards you and whispers in your ear. ‘I would repay your kindness,’ he says, leaning forward. ‘No doubt, you and your friend wish to escape from this terrible place?’ he asks. Quickly you nod your assent; pressing the old man to continue. ‘In my time here, I have learned the safest route of escape. Other prisoners have told me of it.’ His strained, bloodshot eyes pierce yours with a mad ferocity. ‘I know no way of passing through the door of this cell, but the way beyond the dungeon door is—’
Suddenly he gives a great sigh and falls to the floor. With tears in your eyes, you turn to Shan, who looks anxiously at you. ‘He is dead,’ you say, sorrowfully. The merchant hangs his head. ‘Then we are doomed,’ he groans.
