Riane, in the bowl of the in'adim, blinked and shook her head. Come off it, Kurgan said shortly. Riane knew she had only one shot at this. Caught in the spiral band of the sparks, it turned black and rigid, plummeting like arock to the ground.
Keep your ears open. Thrusting the flicking torch head down into the triangular chamber below, she discovered what seemed tobe a citrine table just below her. Her mouth was partly open, the next words about to be released, when shefelt a dreadful hammerblow of pain. And you have become his favorite.
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