of the Cerulean. They held tight to the bag as they walked through the streets, so I couldn't struggle or shout. No one was going to hamper a gang of dragons such as these walking through the streets of They let me out of the bag onto the carpeted floor of an expensive inn. The decor was that special shade of yellow reserved by the Slavers Guild, and any hopes I had of an easy escape were put to rest when the ropes were replaced by manacles, chains, and a well-fashioned gag. Syrin's broad chest was now enclosed withing a yellow tabard with stripes of rank on the breast, and he wore a bright topaz signet ring on his left hand. This marked him not only as a slaver, but a Guildmaster as well. He easily wrestled me to my stomach, and locked the chain from the manacles about my av idol mpegs wrists to the chain of the manacles about my av idol mpegs ankles, hogtying me. Crouched over me, still musky and wet from the Cerulean bath, he slithered his tail
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