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"Well," he said aloud, wiping his hands. Some of his
confidence was returning, though strained by the cir-
cumstances. "Summoning is more dangerous than I thought.
If the wizard messes up, boot! Off he goes, taken away
forever. Demons don't forgive . . ."
His eyes glazed slightly as he thought about some
variations on this possibility. Mentally, he crossed off the
occupation of sorcerer from those he wished to leam more
about. This was better left to people like-
He heard a door, hidden by racks of books, open.
Tasslehoff dropped to all fours and crawled under the table.
The floor creaked. Thick robes rustled and fell silent.
There was no sound for what seemed like ages of time.
"Tasslehoff," said a wavering voice.
There was no reply.
"You poor wretched puppy, you cannot escape me." The door
creaked and thumped shut. "You watched in the Room of
Conjurations when I spoke with the demon lord. I knew you were
there. Come out now. No use hiding, Tasslehoff."
Robes swished softly and slowly behind a bookcase. His eyes
sparkling, Tasslehoff pressed against a table leg.
"You're behind the bookcase, under the table." The wavering
voice hardened. "Come out."
A long shadow, stepping from behind the shelves, appeared
against a far wall.
"Tasslehoff." The Magus raised his hand and pointed a finger.
Green light burst across the room. Tasslehoff fell back on the
floor as the room blinked out and a new one flashed in
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