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. "Old."
Encouraged, Chess wandered out onto the ice. A few
steps brought him to the nearest of the weird shapes - a
tangled mound of crystals and spires higher than his
head and twenty feet long. He knelt, looking into it, see-
ing twisted dark shadows inside. He rapped at it with the
heel of his staff. Little cracks formed, then a hole, larger
than his head, appeared in it as bits of ice fell away. In-
side was a blackened tangle of burned branches, and a
mist like ancient woodsmoke rose from the hole. He
stuck his head through for a better look. Inside the ice
was a burned tree.
"Fire and ice," he said to himself. It looked as though
the tree had burned and toppled, then been caked with
ice while it still burned.
All around were other interesting ice mounds. The
kender wandered among them, peering here and there,
his eyes wide with the pure delight of a kender amidst a
mystery. Sometimes he could not see what the ice held,
but sometimes he could. One small lump contained a
dead dwarf - a short, thick-set body armored with mail
and visored helm. A bolt from a crossbow had pierced
him. He lay across an emblazoned shield, preserved by
the ice so that the blood of his wound was still bright red.
Hill dwarf, the kender thought
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