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. The feeder, unable to stop, imbedded itself
firmly in the seat of the vessel.
The one with the deep voice noticed the feeder, stuck
and helpless. He grunted with surprise, then pulled it free.
Before the feeder could move, the stranger had slid it into a
thonged leather sheath, firmly binding the thongs around
cross-piece, pommel, and hilt. He did it one-handed, as
though from long practice; his other hand was embracing a
cloaked man with strange, hourglass eyes. That one, who
had been casting a spell as the feeder dove in, pulled away.
The feeder could see, bound as it was, that the one with
the hourglass eyes was looking at it. The feeder struggled
against its bonds, in vain. A skinny finger poked at the
feeder, traced its outline in the sheath. The cloaked man
made a small surprised noise in his throat, and coughed
rackingly.
A moment before, this man had been casting spells,
strenuous ones from the look of him; now, although he was
exhausted, his eyes were lit with recognition. The feeder
tensed. Any moment, the mage would tell the others. . . .
Just then there was a gasp of alarm from the only
woman in the boat; the feeder heard her but could not see
her. The big man, who now owned the dagger, poked the
mage
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