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. Muscles rippled beneath
the shining black skin. His arms looked as though he could
have picked up the stalwart Sturm and carried him about the
room as easily as if he had been a child. He was not dressed
in robes, but wore bright-colored, loose-fitting trousers. The
only hint that he might have been a wizard at all came from
the pouches that hung at his waist and a white sash that
girdled his broad middle.
Dunbar laughed, booming laughter that set the dishes
rattling.
"Aye," he said, "I am a magic-user." With that, he spoke
a word of command, and the broken table, leaping to its
legs, put itself back together with incredible speed. The ale
vanished from the floor, the cracked pitcher mended and
floated up to rest on the table, where it was soon foaming
with brew again. A roasted haunch of venison appeared, as
did a loaf of fragrant bread, along with sundry other
delicacies that caused Sturm's mouth to water and cooled
even Tanin's ardor, though they did not allay his suspicions.
"Seat yourselves," said Dunbar, "and let us eat. Do not
worry about your father," he added, as Tanin was about to
speak. "He is in conference with the heads of the other two
Orders. Sit down! Sit down!" He grinned, white teeth
flashing against his black skin. "Or shall I make you sit
down? . . ."
At this, Tanin let loose the hilt of his sword and pulled up a
chair, though he did not eat but sat watching Dunbar warily
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