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. Glenshadow
backed away, his eyes nearly closed. The crystal device
on his staff glowed feebly. "There is an effect," he mut-
tered. "It makes a difference."
Chestal Thicketsway blinked and looked up. A drop
of rain had fallen on his head.
"Are you finished?" Chane asked the wizard. "It's time
to go."
"Yes," Glenshadow noted thoughtfully. "It is time to go."
"What was that all about?" Wingover asked. But the
wizard had turned away.
Chane retrieved the crystal, put it away, and lashed his
pack. Jilian came from the screen of brush, now clad in a
tunic of stained white linen, scaled down to fit her by a
series of clever tucks, folds, and ties. She handed most of
the once-robe back to the human.
Wingover stared at her. "I don't know why I ever
thought that old robe was for me," he said.
Chane took the lead, and they started down the dark-
ening slopes, toward the Vale of Respite, where goblins
now occupied what had once been a vale of peace.
When they were gone, something massive came from
the rocks and paused to look at the heap of chilling gore
that once had been an ogre.
He prodded the mess with his toes, then stepped over it
and went to where the dim trail led downward. He
growled, a noise that rumbled like distant thunder.
"Cleft was careless," he muttered. "Cleft is dead.
Should have waited for Loam, instead. But puny ones
are still in sight. Loam will have a sport this night
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