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. Faint
traceries of colored chalk faded into the shifting darkness around
the motionless flames below.
With a start, Tasslehoff saw that the room was occupied. Far
below, striding quietly to the edge of the circle of firepots, was a
dark-robed figure. It took but a moment for Tasslehoff to realize
that it was the Magus. He briefly considered hiding, but his
curiosity got the better of him, so he pressed closer to the bars.
The Magus stopped ten feet from the edge of the circle, within
a smaller chalk-drawn circle beside it. For a time he appeared to
contemplate the flames before him. Ruddy light played over his
drawn face, white like a ghost's; his dark eyes drank in light,
reflecting none.
Slowly, the Magus raised his arms and called out to the circle of
fire in a language the kender had never before heard spoken. At
first the flames crackled and jumped; but as the Magus continued
speaking, the fires dimmed and lowered until they were almost in-
visible. The air grew colder, and Tasslehoff shivered, rubbing his
arms for warmth.
Tasslehoff's attention was suddenly drawn to the center of the
conjuring circle. Red streaks appeared in crisscross patterns on the
floor, within the design of the firepots, as if the floor were
breaking apart over red lava. A dull haze clouded the chamber, and
the firepots burned more brightly. A strange roaring like a great
ocean wave coming in to the shore filled the room by degrees,
growing to a thunder that made the very rock tremble
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