Selecting a key from the heavy bunch committed to him by Austin, he threw open the door, and beheld Blueskin seated at the back of the small chamber, handcuffed, and with his feet confined in a heavy pair of stocks. Shari was snoring soundly. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. He dodged the boot this time, and smashed his left upon the Wastrel's lips, leaving them bloody pulp.
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