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."
"I'll get it."
I moved to an armoire, opened it, and fetched out a dark fur one. As we
traded, he ran his hand over it.
"Manticore?" he asked.
"Dire wolf," I said.
I hung his within and closed the dorr while he donned mine.
"As I was saying when we came in here," he offered, "supposing I don't
come back?"
"You weren't saying that," I corrected.
"Not in so manu words, " he admitted. "But whether it's a small delay
or the big one, what difference does it make? The point is, what if Jurt
goes through with the ritual and succeeds in obtaining the powers he's after
before we can do anything about it? And supposing I'm not around right then
to give you a hand?"
"That's a lot of supposing." I said.
"That's what separates us from the losers, man. Nice cloak."
He moved toward the door, glanced back at me, at Jasra.
"Okay," I said. "You go down there, Dalt cuts off your head and uses it
for a football, then Jurt shows up ten feet tall and farting fire. I'm
supposing. How does that separate us from the losers?"
He stepped out into the hall. I followed him, snapping my fingers
again, leaving Jasra to the darkness.
"It's a matter of knowing your options," he told me, as I secured the
door.
I fell into step beside him as he headed back down the hall.
"A person who acquires that kind of power also picks up a
vulnerability, by way of its source," he said
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