When night fell over the World of the Green Star, the pirate-savages let down the anchor.  Knowing little of the science of navigation, they feared to sail under cover of darkness lest they stray from their course.  Being ignorant and superstitious Barbarians, they believed the hours of darkness were under the dominion of demons, monsters and evil spirits, whose malignant attention might be attracted to a moving vessel.

Hence, every night, we slumbered at our oars after being fed by our captors.  The barzabang, or "stroke-master," slept by his drum at the foot of the stairwell leading to the upper deck.  Two armed guards slumbered there as well, to ward the exit.  The Blue Barbarians had little fear that the galley-slaves would escape from their chains, so the two guards were permitted to doze.

That very night, once the guards had partaken of their nightly wine and fallen into a sodden slumber, we feigned sleep while the wily Klygon removed his ear-ring and pulled it out into a length of wire some eight or nine inches long.  Then while we masked his actions from the glance of any guard who might stir to wakefulness, he inserted one end of the stiff wire into the keyhole of the lock and began deftly probing the mechanism to discover its configurations.

Each slave on a bench was fastened to the same chain, which was looped through a ring worn upon the right ankle.  The end of the chain was locked securely to a heavy metal ring at the end of each bench.  This meant that Klygon had only to pick one lock in order to set free an entire benchful of slaves.  There were twelve benches in the hold, to each of which five slaves were tethered.

We waited, breathless with suspense, while his gnarled yet subtle fingers probed delicately at the inner mechanism of the lock.  Using the wire, he made a slight metallic sound from time to time; but this sound would not easily be detected.  There are many sounds aboard a ship at sea - the creaking of worn timbers, the squeal of winches, the distant calls of the watch, the occasional rasp of sandal-leather on the deck above our heads.  In truth, the snoring of our guards alone would be enough to drown out the slight rasp, clink and clattering sound made by Klygon's pick.

The suspense was well-nigh unendurable.  It was all the worse for me, who waited in blind darkness, unable even to watch the careful tinkering of those gnarled and knotted fingers.  At length, one click sounded louder than all the rest, and my companions began to breathe again.  By this I gathered, and correctly, that the lock was open.

Freeing himself from the chain, Klygon crept from his place on the bench to kneel between my knees while he opened the lock of my chain.  Then, bench by bench, lock by lock, the agile little assassin made his way the length of the hold.  Well before dawn lit the misty skies of the World of the Green Star, every slave chained to the oars of the Xothun was a free man.

Only the awe in which Prince Andar was held by his lords and nobles prevented them from arising to attack the pirate crew, once their chains were broken.  Klygon regained his place at the bench behind me and rechained himself to the oar.  To the untutored eye, I assume the locks must have looked secure enough, for as we rowed the Xothun that day no hue and cry was raised against us.  The guards that paced the aisle between the rows of benches, industriously plying their whips upon the naked backs and shoulders of the oarsmen, had no slightest inkling that the men they lashed were not chained but - free!