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Suddenly, with a great gust of hot wind, gobs of the
purple mist pulled together and took shape, forming
themselves into the likeness of a human visage, a wom-
an's face. Its complexion was white, the lips thin and
gray. The sharply ridged nose and harsh cheekbones
gave the face a disturbing severity. The eyes were yel-
low and cold, and darted from person to person like a
snake's tongue beneath razor-thin brows.
The head weaved from side to side and bobbed
slightly atop the vortex of purple mist that trailed back
to the portal. Webs of lightning played around it and
enclosed it.
"Great Reorx!" whispered Trapspringer. "What is
that?"
The face continued hovering, but its tail of purple-
and-green-streaked mist reeled out of the wall as if
drawn by some magical vacuum. The mist piled up in
great heaps beneath the head, twitching and flicking
like the tail of some nightmarish reptile. The mounds of
mist reeked of sulfur and ammonia.
"I'm not sure," Tasslehoff whispered slowly to his un-
cle, unable to remove his eyes from the horror growing
in front of him. He covered his nose with his sleeve,
then added, "It's almost beginning to look like the
dragon I rode back at Rosloviggen."
"You rode a dragon?" asked Trapspringer, suddenly
heedless of the horror confronting him. "Good show!
That's more impressive than even some of my adven-
tures. Promise to tell me all about it?"
"Now is not a good time to discuss this," sang Phi-
neas, his voice and eyes crowded with fear. "I suggest
we run before this thing, whatever it may be, completes
its genesis
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