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Where it was raining, the birdsong stilled and the clamor
of thunder in the distance growing nearer as Armavir
listened to the spatter of rain against the leaves, the gentle
rustle of the branches in a rising wind. Lulling sounds,
tranquil sounds, and soon the budding engineer, the proto-
cellist, the youthful poet slept the sleep of the just and the
absent-minded, until
17. Such an idea is scarcely more fanciful than others proposed by
advocates of strong military defense. See, for instance, Theros Ironfeld,
"Arms for Hostages," WAR OF THE LANCE VETERAN, IV, pp. 42-57.
louder claps of thunder awakened him, and he found that
his head had become lodged rather tightly in the
experimental helmet, entangled in copper wire that was
itself uncomfortably tight beneath his chin, so that he
thought of the ill-fated chickens and shuddered.
It was then that the lightning struck the laboratory of the
vallenwood, and our lyrical hero discovered that not only
did copper wire conduct heat and sound, but also the
considerable energies of lightning itself - energies so
violent that he could not remember the seven ensuing years
except for fleeting images of sunlight and leaves, the
brilliant amber bottoms of three half-filled ale glasses,
something about a dwarf and a kender, and when the
memory settled, himself seated at the Inn of the Last Home,
having aimlessly wandered (as he would say in his
immortal but flawed "Song of the Ten Heroes")18 "into the
heart of the story"
And the rest, my friends, was the story itself
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