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The Book of Deacon By Joseph R. Lallo Characters: 5044

Updated: 2018-01-20 12:02


She reached out with her weakened mind. The differences in the energies of different types of earth were difficult to detect in the clearest of mind. Despite her many impairments, the black grains were soon clearly unique enough in her mind's eye to separate. The spell to manipulate earth was one she had learned well, but with so much of her concentration devoted to keeping the two types distinct, when the time came to move them, they seemed as heavy as lead weights. Moving them more than a few at a time seemed impossible, but she pressed on. By the time the last white grain found its way to its own bowl, she felt as though she'd moved a mountain.

Cresh pulled the blindfold from the weary girl's head and patted her on the back, chuckling. She opened her eyes to the light of a torch and smiled weakly at the reason for his laughter. While she had succeeded in separating the sand, she had been less precise where the sand landed. Rather than in the respective bowls, she had managed to scatter the sand anywhere but. The only clear spot was the bowl that the sand had formerly occupied. Fortunately Cresh was satisfied. He handed her an apple and helped her to her feet and out the door.

The hour was late. None of the admirers and well-wishers were awake--save Deacon, who had remained despite being required to wait outside of the hut. He helped her to her hut and set her on her bed.

"Well, this is a refreshing change. You finished a test and did not need to be carried home, " he said.

them. It grew stronger as it approached. Through the water, something distorted could be seen beneath the ripple. When it had made it to the water's edge, the disturbance finally emerged. It was a fantastically beautiful woman. She was wearing a shimmering bodice and had long golden hair. Around her neck hung a pendant that contained her gem. Whereas most had been as near to clear as possible, hers was a deep blue. Just visible beneath the water was an exquisite emerald tail, like that of a fish, that was the precise color of her eyes. She was a mermaid. Her voice had such a pristine clarity that she seemed to be singing every word.

"Deacon! Always a pleasure! And this must be Myranda! I have heard some very impressive things about you, my dear. These next few weeks will be a treat!" she said.

"I am quite sure that you two will have a fine time together--but remember that Myranda is still unaccustomed to the whimsical attitudes of wizards. Please treat her gently, " Deacon requested.

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