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. He was only a few feet from the door. He started to
back away, but it was too late. The door creaked open.
An old woman peeked out. Gorath had never seen anyone
uglier. She had a hatchet-face, with sharp bones pushing
through the skin, a needle-shaped nose, and tiny, pointed
ears. Her hair was white and wild, yet her thick eyebrows
were black. Her eyes were pale yellow, her thin lips were
colorless, and her complexion was as pale as a fish's belly.
It would have taken Gorath a lifetime to have counted the
deep wrinkles that lined her face.
The tiny woman looked the big man up and down. She
wiggled her nose as if she were smelling him. Her scowl
gave way to a smile. Her heart, which had so long ago
resigned itself to eternal loneliness, began to pound. Her
chest began to rise and fall. Her eyes looked at the stranger
hungrily. Women had always been repulsed by Gorath's
appearance, but he left this one breathless. At last she
spoke.
"You're so handsome, I must hold you," she said
brazenly. As the stunned Gorath backed up, she moved
toward him out of the shadows. That's when Gorath saw
how she was garbed.
"Ah, I ... I see you are a black-robed magic-user," he
said, somewhat relieved
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