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It was like his words were stronger than I was! Before I
knew what I was doing, I was up to my ankles in mud,
helping the elf find this staff and that danged box."
"What kind of box?" Milo Martin had stopped gathering
items from the list and was leaning against his counter. His
curiosity had grown too great to bother hiding.
"A little wooden chest bound with brass strips," Lodston
replied. "I carried it back to the cave after we found the
staff. When we both was dry and warm again, he told me
his name and said he used to be a wizard for some king
named 'Lorac.' "
The name meant nothing to Martin. The enthralled
shopkeeper motioned for Lodston to continue.
"Dalamar said he got into some kind of trouble back at
this Sylvanesti place for changing his robes from white to
black or something like that. Said he had to leave before the
king killed him. When I told him I didn't think a king'd
worry that much about the color of a man's clothes, he just
smiled and laid his head back against the hearth."
Martin knew very little about magic and wizards, but he
did know more than old Lodston. The shopkeeper's pudgy
face flushed as he flaunted his superior knowledge of
matters arcane.
"Idiot! Don't you even know the difference between
white-robed and black-robed sorcerers? You ever heard of
an evil elf, much less an evil elven wizard?"
"Evil?" demanded the hermit
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