" He hoped it would offer
enough protection.
His hand came free and he threw the sun-bit away with a flick of his
wrist. His hand ached with the impossible task of steadiness he had set
it, and his finger and thumb burned and smoked. But the wound was
already healing.
In the exposed section of the camp, the Sons of the Egg were charred
corpses. There was a fire starting on the roof of the building, but
others had already run out to quench that. It sounded like the snuffling
progress of an undine across the roof! Maybe magic was working again.
Bork turned back from the sight of his former companions. His face was
sick, but he managed to grin at Hanson. "Dave Hanson, to whom nothing is
impossible," he said.
Hanson had located Nema finally as she approached. He caught her hand
and grabbed Bork's arm. Like his own, it was trembling with fatigue and
reaction.
"Come on," he said. "Let's find some place where we can see whether it's
impossible now for you to magic up a decent meal. And a drink strong
enough to scare away the sylphs."
The sylph that found them wasn't scared by the Scotch, but there was
enough for all of them.
X
Three days can work magic--in a world where magic works. The planets
swung along their paths again and the sun was in the most favorable
house for conjuration. The universe was stable again.
There was food for all, and houses had been conjured hastily to shelter
the people.
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