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.""Well, we're 'ere and there's no point 'uggering now, Sprite," Corrick croaked."I say we give Pinch 'is due.Don't 'is plans always work?""There's no time to waste," Pinch barked."In the cart, all of you." With easy grace, he swung into the back, then helped the less-agile Maeve alongside.Sprite tumbled in beside them and pulled up a span of canvas to roughly cover them.From the shadowed interior, the three had a narrow view of the still-vacant scaffold.A roar went up from the crowd as a crier mounted the gallows platform, the writ of execution rolled under his arm.The official swung his bell in a futile attempt to get silence."Go, Corrick."The ancient gave a flick of the reins, and the horses got the cart moving with a rough lurch.The passengers bounced in the back as the wheels rolled down the cobbled street.A wild cheer, part savage, part joyous, rose from the crowd as the cart entered the square.The roar died down as quick when the mob realized the covered wagon was not the executioner's cart.With a vigorous application of the whip on the horses and the crowd, Corrick was able to force their passage through the pressed throng.While the bald Corrick was absorbed in driving the team, Pinch leaned forward for a whispered word in the halfling's slightly fuzzy ear."Sprite, listen close.I need five hundred in nobles.Can you fig it for me quick?"The small cutpurse's eyes widened at the mere mention of the amount."Five hundred—now?""Or Therin swings.It's the only way.""Send Therin to the denizens!" Sprite swore under his breath; but Pinch was counting on the halfling's love of the challenge, not his love of Therin."Five hundred?" Sprite asked again as he scanned the crowd, taking the measure of the gulls.The congregation was teeming with them—fat masters enjoying their mistresses, overworked vendors unmindful of their wallets, drunken craftsmen, even a gentleman with his entourage."Me and Purse-Nipper can do it," the halfling noted boastfully, palming a small knife from the sheath strapped to his wrist."Then go and strike, boy!" Pinch hissed with urgency.At that Sprite sprang lightly from the cart and vanished into the crowd.A fresh roar went up from the multitude, this time as they correctly sighted the executioner's cart.It was already close to the gallows, having entered the square by a side street so as to avoid the riotous celebrators that awaited it on the main routes.Pinch could see Therin standing tall in the back, cheerfully waving his bound hands to the crowd.The hooded hangman rode next to him, impassive in his duty.His hood was stitched with a crude death's head to remind the condemned man of who shared this ride.The crowd surged toward the executioner's cart.So eager were they for their entertainment that they almost overturned the vehicle, forcing the hangman to get Therin out of the wagon and onto the platform with unseemly haste.The rush of the crowd served the thieves too, for it thinned the press ahead of them.Corrick drove the wagon through the gap as fast as the old nags would pull it.As they closed, Maeve passed Pinch an old workshirt she had brought, along with a battered cap and a bloodstained cloak.The clothes quickly covered the thief's fine velvets.After a few adjustments, Pinch, looking like a bloody surgeon's aide, climbed into the seat by Corrick.There was barely time as the wagon lurched to a stop at the base of the gallows.A squad of Hellriders, their red and silver armor glittering in the sun, formed a wall around the gallows.The twenty or so soldiers held the crowd at bay with a bristling ring of spears.On the inside was a bearded sergeant, exhorting his men to stand ready."We be sent to buy the body for our master, Wizard Shildris, so 'e can cut it up," the cloaked Pinch shouted to the sergeant.For that extra touch, he held up a purse, jingling it meaningfully.It was filled with nothing more than coppers, but the sergeant didn't know that.Once again the lies flowed smoothly off Pinch's lips with less hesitation than the truth.On the platform above, the crier was reading out the death warrant while the hangman fitted the noose.Maeve shifted uneasily, watching Therin's progress, while Corrick kept a grip on the reins.The sergeant of the command smiled with avarice and nodded to his men to let the wagon pass through their bristling ring.As the cart creaked forward, the small streak of Sprite darted through the throng and hopped onto the wagon's bed.A wink and a nod were all Pinch needed to tell him the halfling had met with success.At Therin's side, a priest of Tyr was intoning the benedictus for the dead.All that remained was the hood and then the drop when the hangman pulled the trap.Pinch touched Maeve and cautioned her to be ready.Corrick, Sprite, and Maeve clambered from the cart.Pinch readied to follow them."I told you I'd get you sooner or later, upright man," shrilled a nasal voice as the master thief swung off the seat.Pinch dropped from the cart and whirled around to come face to face with Commander Wilmarq, sliding out of the crowd.As the soldiers parted to let their commander in, Corrick scurried to the officer's side."Now, with some small thanks to your friend here, I've got the lot of you," the pudgy Hellrider gloated.Sprite-Heels and Maeve stood helplessly by, encircled by swords."And thus Tyr's justice is done," the priest concluded from the platform.The crowd drew a collective breath."Oh, Pinch, save me!" wailed Therin through the silence.A tear trickled down Maeve's cheek
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