As far as the sorcerer's horse and baggage. He didn't even take a mirror with him, only a sword - and everybody knows you need a mirror in order to kill a basilisk." "At least we've saved some coin," added pimples "there's no one to pay for taking care of the basilisk. It was plain from the beginning that he was headed towards death, like all the others before him. "He is now dead, as surely as the sun shines in the sky. "An agreement you made with a living man, burgrave" said the pimply-faced man's companion, a giant of a man in a leather butcher's apron. Have you forgotten how many have died down there already? What are we waiting for?" "This was the agreement, wasn't it?" murmured the fat man uncertainly. "Why wait?" snorted pimply, "There in the caves lurks a basilisk, or have you forgotten, burgrave? Anyone goes down there, that's the end of them. "We have to wait a bit longer," he said as he wiped the sweat from his sparse eyebrows. A fat man dressed in a yellow smock shifted slightly from one foot to the other, cleared his throat and pulled his wrinkled cap from his head. He's done for." The townsfolk, huddled together in the midst of the ruins and rubble, watched the gaping black hole of the entrance to the tunnel in silence. "It's been an hour and a quarter since he went in. The Limits of the Possible I "He's not coming back out, I tell you!" stated a pimply-faced man, shaking his head with finality. This is a free, unofficial fan translation.
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