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. In due time, however, two of the
manlike automatons which served the Magus entered the study, the
intruder suspended between them by his arms.
The Magus looked carefully at the intruder, who stopped
kicking the moment he saw the Magus. The intruder was
barely four feet in height and thinly built; he had bright
brown eyes and the face of a ten-year-old human child.
Narrow, pointed ears pressed against his light brown hair,
which was pulled into a sort of pony tail on top of his head.
The Magus recognized him as a kender, an annoying minor
race that shared the world with him.
The Magus was accustomed to seeing terror on the faces
of his captives. It disarmed him to see this one look upon
him with open-mouthed surprise and lively curiosity. The
captive then smiled like a boy caught with one hand in a
pastry jar.
"Hey," said the intruder, "you must be one of those
necro-guys-necromantics, thaumaturboes, what-cha-
callums." He craned his neck and surveyed the study as if it
were the living room of a friend. "Nice place you've got
here."
Mildly annoyed, the Magus nodded. "I have not had
visitors here for many years. Today, I find you here within
my fortress. For the sake of courtesy, I will first ask your
name before I demand an explanation of how you got in
here."
The intruder struggled for a moment, but he accom-
plished nothing against the grip of his eight-foot-tall
captors
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