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"Black hair, you say? Not just dark?"
"Nay!" Lodston replied irritably. "I said black, and I
meant it! It be black as soot, and his skin like white linen,
so white that it shines like a full moon in a night sky."
The merchant stroked his chubby chin, considering the
dwarf's words. "Well, if he's an elf as you say, I'd guess that
he was from Sylvanesti. I've heard that the eastern elves
look like that, but I've never seen one of them."
The dwarf nodded excitedly. "That's it!" he exclaimed.
"Sylvanesti is where he said he was from! You beat all I've
ever seen with those wild guesses, Milo!"
The shopkeeper shrugged. It was no guess, but he
decided to let the hermit believe that he possessed such an
unpredictable skill. People were more reluctant to cheat
someone who could "outguess" them.
"Go on with your story. Tell me about the staff," urged
Martin as he turned toward his shelves to collect more
items on the list.
"Well, he asks me right off if I found his box. When I tell
him not to fret about some box after I save him from
drowning, he doesn't say anything. He just stares at the fire
for a long time. Then he gets up and heads for the door.
'Wait!' I calls. 'You ain't fit enough to walk!'
'Come to the river with me,' he says in this strange voice
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