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. Each
character was fashioned with elegant swirls, while the
spelling and phrases were archaic.
"'Balls of twyne, a sette of three;
"Grinded millett, so fyne as to pass through a tea
sieve;
"Twin hyves of honey, with compleat combs for
the waxxe . . .'"
It was obvious that the old dwarf hadn't written the list.
Martin doubted if the hermit was literate at all, and he was
positive that those gnarled hands and failing vision would
be incapable of such careful strokes of a nib.
"This is quite a list, Nugold," he admitted. "I might not
have it all. Tell me about this 'elven wizard' who lives in
your cave while I gather whatever I can to suit you and
your guest."
"His name's Dalamar," the dwarf began. "I found him on
the riverbank last month, half-starved and out of his head. I
knew he was strange, because of his white skin and long
hair as jet black as his sorcerer's robe. 'This ain't no human,'
I says to myself. Then I drug him into my cave and made
him a bed by the fire. When he woke up, I thought he'd be
afraid, but he was just as calm as he could be. He acted like
he knew where he was, and like he knew me, too. Even
called me by name, he did!"
Milo Martin paused with some candles in his hand
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