His captors hesitated, but then they moved forward, untied him and yanked him around to face the intervenors who, for now, were also blessed rescuers.
The man was ancient and stooped, a mass of wrinkles like a walnut shell, and wearing simple robes. The woman was - shadowed beneath a hood, bright red over the paleness of her robe, which was obviously finely crafted in comparison to the man’s.
She reached into the folds of her skirt and handed the old man a pouch. It clinked loudly when it landed on his palm, and Dael’s captors accepted it with eager greed.
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