'And now he's dead, sure as eggs is eggs. 'We made a deal with a living man, Alderman,' said the spotty-faced man's companion, a giant in a leather butcher's apron. 'But we struck a deal,' the fat man muttered hesitantly. Haven't enough people perished? Why wait?' 'Have you forgotten, Alderman, that a basilisk is lurking in that there dungeon? No one who goes in there comes out. 'For what?' the spotty-faced man snarled. 'Let's wait a little longer,' he said, wiping the sweat from his thinning eyebrows. A fat man in a yellow jerkin shifted from one foot to the other, cleared his throat and took off his crumpled biretta. The townspeople, crammed among the ruins, stared in silence at the black hole gaping in the debris, at the rubble-strewn opening. 'It's been an hour and a quarter since he went down. 'He won't get out of there, I'm telling you,' the pockmarked man said, shaking his head with conviction.
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