The chant changed, after a long moment of silence. Dave's heart had
picked up speed, but now it missed again, and he felt cold. He shivered.
Hell or heaven weren't like this, either. It was like something out of
some picture--something about Cagliostro, the ancient mystic. But he was
sure the language he somehow spoke wasn't an ancient one. It had words
for electron, penicillin and calculus, for he found them in his own
mind.
The chant picked up again, and now the brazier flamed a dull red,
showing the Sather Karf's face changing from some kind of disappointment
to a businesslike steadiness. The red glow grew white in the center, and
a fat, worm-like shape of flame came into being. The old man picked it
up in his hand, petted it and carried it toward Dave. It flowed toward
his chest.
He pulled himself back, but Ser Perth and the nurse leaped forward to
hold him. The thing started to grow brighter. It shone now like a tiny
bit of white-hot metal; but the older man touched it, and it snuggled
down into Dave's chest, dimming its glow and somehow purring. Warmth
seemed to flow from it into Dave. The two men watched for a moment, then
picked up their apparatus and turned to go. The Sather Karf lifted the
fire from the brazier in his bare hand, moved it into the air and said a
soft word. It vanished, and the two men were also gone.
"Magic!" Dave said.
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