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. You" - he indicated Michael - "may
sit in the chair. You" - he glowered at Nikol - "stand by the
door and touch nothing. Do you understand? Touch
nothing! I will be back shortly."
"Where are you going?" Nikol demanded.
He stared at her, face frozen.
"Master," she added in a more respectful tone.
"You asked for the Disks of Mishakal," said Astinus,
and left.
"At last!" Michael said, sitting in the chair, glad to rest.
"Soon we'll have the disks and the answers - "
"If we live long enough to read them," Nikol stated
angrily. She left her place by the door, began pacing the
small room, waving her hands. "That old man is a fool!
He'll let himself and these poor, wretched monks be
butchered, his precious library torn down around his ears.
When we get the disks, Michael, we'll take them and leave.
And if that old man tries to stop us, I'll - "
"Nikol," said Michael, awed. "Look . . . look at this."
"What?" She stopped her pacing, startled by the odd
tone of his voice. "What is it?"
"A book," said Michael, "left open, here, on the desk."
"Michael, this is no time to be reading!"
"Nikol," he said softly, "it's about Lord Soth."
"What does it say?" she cried, leaning over him. "Tell
me!"
Michael read the text silently to himself.
"Well?" Nikol demanded, impatient.
He looked up at her. "He's a murderer, Nikol, and
worse. It's all here. How he fell in love with a young elven
maid, a virgin priestess. He carried her off to Dargaard
Keep, then murdered his first wife, to have her out of his
way
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