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. Some time before, an itinerant
artist wandered into Port Ba-lifor with a talent for painting and a
yen for ale. The artist hired out to the minotaur for room, board,
and all the ale he could drink. The artist erected scaffolds and
worked for two years to create an oil mural on the ceiling.
The painting depicted a satyr gamboling with maidens in a
pastoral setting. Neither the satyr nor the maidens were
particularly shy, a fact that delighted customers of the bar. Some
folks claimed the mino-taur's regulars could be recognized by the
crook in their necks.
Now, after a long drink of ale, William drew the coin from his
pocket. It lay coldly in his palm, a lifeless piece of metal.
"What's that?" asked Harum. His thick fingers plucked the coin
from William's hand.
"It was a gift from someone special," said William.
Sintk the Dwarf chimed in. "William thinks the coin has
magical powers."
The minotaur cocked his head and held the coin up to the light
of an oil lamp on the wall. "What does it do?"
"It helps my mind go off to other places." William was pleased
that the minotaur had not ridiculed his beliefs about the coin.
Harum asked, "You mean soul-travel?"
William looked startled. "What's that?"
Harum grinned. "Back home, I was given a sentence of supreme
shunning. Solitary confinement without contact with anyone. You
can't imagine the terrible loneliness. You get crazed from the need
for companionship
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