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.
Maybe, he thought, seeing the earnest belief in the kender's
brown eyes. Maybe . . .
But no. If there were any magic in the shabby little pipe
at all, it lay in the fact that Tas, that inveterate and
inevitable collector, could be induced to believe that he
must leave behind a pipe he swore was enchanted.
Tanis grinned again. That, he supposed, was magic
enough for one pipe.
The Wizard's Spectacles
Morris Simon
Nugold Lodston shook a gnarled fist at his youthful
tormentors.
"Get away! Pester somebody else! Leave me alone!"
The old hermit shielded his face with his forearm from
another flurry of pebbles amid the laughter of the dirty
street urchins and their audience of amused onlookers. He
despised these trips into Digfel and longed for the quiet
solitude of his cave on the banks of the Meltstone River.
"We don't want your kind in Digfel, you old miser. Go
home to Hylar where you belong, and take your worthless
gold with you!"
The aged dwarf squinted in the general direction of the
adult voice. His eyesight was terrible, even for his four
hundred years. A blurry outline of a heavy human figure
loomed in front of him, barring his way into Milo Martin's
shop
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