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. "Here, you'll lose these to the flame if you're not
careful."
"Then you'll come with me?"
The wind whispered evil secrets to the night. The groaning of the
trees under the frost might have been the mourning of lost souls.
Flint shuddered, remembering the girl's tale of phantoms and
ghosts. "I still have little enough faith in the girl's story of ghosts.
But it's clear to me that the two of you will need someone with
sense along on this fool's errand."
Tanis thanked him gravely, knowing that it would not do now
to smile.
On the black stone parapet of his castle, the old mage Gadar
turned his face up to a cold sky. Lunitari's red light leaked from
behind the clenched fists of crimson clouds. Shadows drifted
across the ground. Like dark breaths they twined around the gray
trunks of stiffly ranked pines and slid down the mountain's slopes.
A night-hawk, talons flashing in the moon's rising light, dropped
from her nest: she was an arrow irrevocably launched toward her
prey. The rabbit screamed, its first and last voicing, a brief song of
the life it had lived and protest of death's agony.
Behind the mage, in a chamber red with the flame of torch and
hearth, a raven cawed as though to warn him that time was
passing. Gadar turned his back on the mountains and returned to
the chamber.
The raven croaked again, cocked its head specula-lively, and
preened its wings.
"I know," Gadar murmured wearily
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