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."
"Woe," something voiceless mourned.
The impatient kender had scampered away, out to-
ward the edge of the paving for a better look at the huge,
white-maned cat. When it noticed him, he backpedaled,
reversed his course, and went to have a closer look at the
obelisk. He disappeared beyond it.
"There's somebody here," Chane decided. "Somebody
keeps these fires, and somebody made that song." He
looked toward the hut beyond the obelisk. "Maybe..."
Then he turned again, alerted by movement close by. A
creature like nothing he had ever seen had stepped onto
the pavement. She was far taller than Chane, taller even
than the wizard.
Her skin was the color of midnight and caught the light
in patterns of indigo and ebony that flowed sensuously
over a face and form beautiful almost beyond beauty.
Her hair was silver-white, long and flowing, and the sin-
gle garment she wore - a brief tunic caught at one shoul-
der and falling to her sleek thighs - seemed to be woven
of spider silk.
Chane stared, open-mouthed, stunned by her beauty
as he was stunned by her song. Never had he heard such
a voice - the power of thunder and the gentleness of
summer clouds resonated in perfect balance as she
seemed to sing to each of them separately, yet all at once.
Never had he heard such a voice, and never had he seen a
creature so hauntingly lovely, or radiating such intense,
patient power
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