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. He glanced around nervously. "Wizard,
the light... does this mean that magic is working here
again?"
"No magic of mortals," the wizard breathed. "Nor any
that I can sense or understand."
"The gods are not bound by the limits they set," the
Irda whispered. "Only Krynn-magic is captured in Spell-
binder's net."
"Ashes and woe," something voiceless mourned.
"I'm glad to hear that," the kender sighed. "I'm not in
any hurry to find out what happens when Zap gets un-
bound."
Atop the tall cone, Chane cut another hold, then a fi-
nal one, and pulled himself up for a look. The top of the
monolith was a shallow cup, no more than four feet
across, with objects lying in it. The largest was a small,
broken statue apparently carved from alabaster - a
weathered and eroded representation of a man with a
beard, face turned upward, one outthrust arm intact, its
hand holding a two-inch oval of dark red crystal. The lit-
tle statue, which would have stood no more than three
feet tall, lay on its back. Part of its other arm lay beside
it, but the hand was missing.
The other object in the bowl was a metal ball the size
of Chane's fist - deeply rusted, but still showing clearly
the dent of ancient impact. A green bronze plate was im-
bedded in the ball, and Chane bent close
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