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. In fact, the inner door
appeared to have been blown completely off its hinges.
The merchant was just starting toward the tunnel when
his feet stumbled over something soft beside the table. He
held the lamp closer and realized that it was the old dwarf's
tattered woolen cloak. It was draped over something much
firmer, something which was the obvious source of the
stench in the small chamber. Martin lifted a corner of the
filthy rag just enough to verify what he suspected. The old
hermit's rotting body was lying inside some kind of
mystical diagram with its bloated face staring vacantly at
the ceiling. The head and chest were riddled with sharp
splinters from the outer door, and the back of the scalp was
badly gashed and bruised.
"What did they do to you, old friend? Where's your fine
sorcerer's robe now?" Martin mumbled sourly, a few tears
moistening his blue eyes. Despite Lodston's crankiness, the
merchant knew that he'd miss the dwarfs trips to Digfel.
"You were playing with fire when you let that elven wizard
teach you magic!" he scolded the silent corpse.
Martin shook his head and turned away from Lodston's
body. Being a practical man, he found an empty flour sack
and began to rummage through the rubble, looking for
anything of value which he might resell in his store
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