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. Draped in moss, stalactites and stalag-
mites had formed here too, but so elaborately that they re-
minded Flint of organpipes.
The ground before the pool was covered in a soft blanket
of moss. In a moment Flint realized that it provided the
source of the light in the grotto. Somehow alive with energy,
the moss glowed slightly green and yellow and pink all at
once. The effect was unbelievably soothing.
"Isn't it beautiful?" Perian breathed as she glided silently
over the moss and headed for a natural stone bench nearer
the pool;
"It is that," Flint agreed, unable to think of more appropri-
ate or poetic words. He shook off the grotto's calming ef-
fects to remember their purpose for coming here. "Nomscul,
where's my nephew?"
Flint heard a groan behind him. Turning, the hill dwarf
saw something move slightly in the shadows of the rock for-
mations. He was not prepared for the sight of Basalt on his
knees, a four-inch length of leash around his neck tying him
to a stalagtite, arms lashed to his sides by ribbons, belts,
twine, and many other less identifiable materials. His face
was swollen, caked with dried blood, and covered with
Nomscul's "magical" dirt
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