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"WHAT is the meaning of this?"
Astinus's voice fell over them like cool water, doused
the flames in an instant. Michael lowered his hand, blinked,
staring through an afterimage of fiery red that momentarily
blinded him.
Lord Soth was gone; in his place stood the library's
master.
"I cannot let you two out of my sight a moment, it
seems," stated Astinus coldly.
"But, Master. Didn't you see him?" Michael gasped,
pointed. "Lord - "
Nikol dug her nails into his arm. "Tell this old fool
nothing!" she whispered urgently. "Forgive us, Master," she
said aloud. "Have you brought the Disks of Mishakal?"
"No," said Astinus. "They are not here. They have
never been here. They will never be here."
"But. . ." Michael glared at the man. "You said you
went to get them ..."
"I said you wanted them. I did not say I would get them,"
Astinus replied with calm. "I went to open the doors."
"The great doors! The doors to the library!" Nikol
gasped. "You . . . opened them! You're mad! Now there's
nothing to stop the mob from entering!"
"At least," said Astinus, "they will not harm the
woodwork."
The rising clamor of the mob was much louder than
before. They were chanting, "Burn the books, burn the
books, burn the books!"
Michael looked at the book on the desk. It was whole,
unharmed. The fire had not touched it. He stared at Astinus
and thought he saw the tiniest hint of a smile flicker on the
stern lips.
"You two can escape out the back," said the master.
"We should," said Nikol, regarding him with scorn
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