The gagged man struggles for a bit, but soon calms down with Tarag's soothing tone. Finally the gag is removed and he starts to answer questions. He has the unrefined accent of a street thug.
"I'm a thief, see. Nah, I was a thief, until yesterday. Now I'm a dead thief, 'cause of my cursed, sour fingers. Cut 'em off, they did. Me livelihood, all me life I trained, an' they cut 'em right off." The man's hands are not bound, and they probably don't need to be, since he has no fingers past the first knuckle on either hand. The amputations have been freshly cauterized, probably not more than a few hours ago.
"Might as well talk t' ye, seein' as they sent me t' die anyhow. 'Twas a high class job, nickin' an orb o' some sort from the wizard's college. These guys, they're the best, an' they been watchin' me, an' this was me chance to join the best. So I leaped. These guys, they ain't muckin' around, they know this city. An' I botched the job." A look of fear fills his eyes.
"Lost one o' their own to the wizard traps. Rest of us, we got out, but soon as we got underground, they... they..." He shudders, and tears come to his eyes. "They took me fingers, an' they said I'd make a good example, show folks not to muck with 'em, but then... somethin' happened. They strapped me into this, dropped a potion down me throat, an' I saw naught but red while I stumbled down a hall, through a hole in a wall, an' then got slammed and speared..." He looks down at his hands for the first time. "Gods below, they took me hands!" He is reduced to sobs.
You hear another attempt at the cellar door. This time, though, the failed attempt is followed by a voice. "Hey! City guard! Open this door immediately, and we will not use lethal force to detain you!"