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Pitrick reminded himself that there was one occasion
where he liked light: when the hearth was lit for heat, the
orange-yellow flames sent eerie shadows dancing across
every shiny surface in his home. Pitrick snapped his fingers
and flames instantly licked at the charcoal in the hearth; he
kept the blaze just low enough to cast phantom shapes on
the walls.
Legaer crept in at last with the mulled drink, his head bent
as he held the mushale out to his master. Pitrick snatched it
from his servant's hands and then dismissed him with a
wave. He was not in a mood to enjoy terrifying the pathetic
dwarf today.
Pitrick absently sipped the tepid brew made from distilled
balick mushrooms, waiting for its slight hallucinogenic af-
fects to begin. The hunchback believed mushale heightened
his senses and allowed him to focus beyond petty distrac-
tions and achieve a level of true meditation. Legaer had to
be summoned to bring three mugs of the tasteless brew be-
fore Pitrick reached the ethereal state that just one usually
accomplished.
Pitrick reflected on the possible reasons for this
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