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.
He was dressed all in black, save for a bit of white collar and sleeve
showing beneath the glossy tight-fitting jacket. He held three dark steel
balls in his gloved hand.
Sometimes it's hard to reach all the way to Chaos, so I focused and
extended, carefully, strongly. The contact came almost immediately. He was
seated on a balcony beneath a crazily stippled sky, the Shifting Mountains
sliding to his left. His feet were propped on a small floating table and he
was reading a book. He lowered it and smiled faintly.
"Merlin," he said softly. "You look tired."
I nodded.
"You look rested," I said.
"True," he answered, as he closed the book and set it on the table.
Then, "There is trouble?" he asked.
"There is trouble, Mandor."
He rose to his feet.
"You wish to come through?"
I shook my head. "If you have any Trumps handy for getting back, I'd
rather you came to me."
He extended his hand.
"All right," he said.
I reached forward, our hands clasped; he took a single step and stood
beside me on the bridge. We embraced for a moment and then he turned and
looked out and down into the rift.
"There is some danger here?" he asked.
"No. I chose this place because it seems very safe." "Scenic, too," he
replied. "What's been happening to you?"
"For years I was merely a student, and then a designer of certain sorts
of specialized machinery," I told him
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