. “You’ll do no such thing, Sheila. "Done!" cried Shotbolt. To win the contest meant you would be chosen to apprentice in magic as a priest under her tutelage. ” Mr. ’ ‘Are we to infer that he had a choice?’ enquired Gerald. ‘It—it is—nothing,’ she uttered jerkily. What she did not know, and what she was never to know, was that the divine fire was hers. ” She leaned back amongst the cushions of her chair. A dry cough's the trumpeter of death.
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