There was no answer. But gradually a faint glow enveloped the cell, flickered warmly for a bare instant and died away.
"Dawnspear!"
"Speak quietly, friend. It was not easy persuading the guards to sleep."
Kesley rubbed his eyes, tried to peer into the darkness. The momentary glow of light had revealed the bizarre, piebald mutant towering above him. Cautiously, Kesley extended his hand and felt the rough, cool skin of the mutant's bare chest as if to confirm his vision.
"What are you doing here, Dawnspear?"
"There are those who would not have you die," the mutant replied. "Winslow and Miguel know you. Two Dukes are in league to take your life, now. They can be dangerous enemies. Come."
Dawnspear grasped Kesley's hand firmly and guided him forward. As they passed through the open door of the cell, the metal began to swing shut again. Kesley heard a faint clang as the cell closed.
Outside, in the dim light of the dungeons, Kesley made out sleeping forms lying here and there, slumped over their weapons. Guards.
"Did you drug them?" he asked.
"They were very sleepy," Dawnspear said ambiguously. "We must hurry, now."