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."
"Did you search his belongings while he was sleeping?"
Milo Martin asked eagerly. The opportunistic shopkeeper
was imagining what he would have done under the same
circumstances.
"What am I, a kender?" cried the insulted dwarf.
"Anyway, I didn't need to snoop. He showed me what was
in his box."
The hermit paused to retrieve a blackened clay pipe
from beneath his fur cloak and gestured toward the tobacco
jar on the counter.
"How's about some of that weed, the kind you sprinkle
with honey wine? And maybe a little ale and biscuits to go
with it," he added as Martin fetched the tobacco. The hermit
might have been nearly blind, but he knew when he had
hooked a listener on a story. The shopkeeper thrust a
foaming mug of freshly brewed stout at the dwarf, who
waited until his pipe was well-fired before accepting it. He
was enjoying tempting Milo Martin's curiosity.
"Ahhh!" exclaimed the hermit, wiping ale from his
mouth with a sleeve.
"Get on with it!" demanded the impatient shopkeeper.
"What was in the chest?"
"Scrolls and books!" Lodston replied in a coarse whisper.
"Dozens of them! And a pair of funny old glasses with wire
rims."
"What was on the scrolls?" cried Martin.
"Spells, I reckon," growled the dwarf
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