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136 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1969
There were several travelers there from the North, and they were convinced that witches were at work in their towns. What worried me was the kind of story they told. Not the usual thing of wells poisoned, toads found in bed, ghosts rapping at windows. They talked about signboards creaking in the wind, trees casting odd shadows, dark cellar-ways that used to scare only children. And cloaks fluttering, and moths brushing faces in dark rooms.
Prospero suddenly knew what was going on. “Oh, good heavens! Great elephantine, cloudy, adamant heavens full of thunder stones! Roger! You can’t be serious. Are you?”
Roger was looking around and drumming his forefinger against his teeth. “If I were serious, I would never have become a wizard, would I?”![]()
“What worried me was the kind of story they told. Not the usual thing of wells poisoned, toads found in bed, ghosts rapping at windows. They talked about signboards creaking in the wind, trees casting odd shadows, dark cellar-ways that used to scare only children. And cloaks fluttering, and moths brushing faces in dark rooms.”