“Abruptly, the reed torches flickered as though a strong breeze wafted through the hall; then they went out, plunging the room into darkness. There was a muttering, part appreciative, but largely nervous. The sound became a gasp as brilliance, brighter than any burning torch might produce, filled the hall. Spellbinder smiled, setting both hands upon the table before him. He rested back in his seat, waiting for the older man to make the next move. Belthis snarled, shifting his gnarled fin...gers in devious patterns. A drinking horn ripped loose from a warrior’s grasp to rush at Spellbinder’s face. Before the contents could slop into his eyes, the dark-haired man motioned with his left hand, halting the thing in mid-air. He gestured again, and the wine rose up from the horn in a quavering globule that began to drift along the table, level with Belthis’ head. It stopped just above his pate, its surface shifting, stretching. It elongated, seeming to spout ears, the braying mouth of a donkey; and it settled upon Belthis, so that he appeared as a jackass.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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