“Is the Mayor her uncle, or perhaps her cousin?” Roland asked. Olive’s horse reared, whinnying. My father went as pale as paper when he looked into the bag and saw what was there, then excused himself and took it away. He slipped both hands into the bag and lifted the wizard’s glass out.
“Oh, foul!” he cried. and no snakes, unless there’s a few under the floor, and if there are, let em stay there’s what I say. “I’m to keep it, and I’m to give it to Mayor Thorin. This one was a triangular white quartz, shattered into a shape that was almost like the head of a spear.
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