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Unformatted text preview: ay altar. I felt the air collecting itself, I felt the wind growing strong, and rolling towards this man. I knew it would strike him one fine blow and then it did. He went sprawling on the marble floor, scrambling quickly to his feet and backing away from me. Blood ran from his nose, down his lips and his chin, and with a fancy handkerchief, he went to blot it. But the wind wasn't finished. The church was now giving off a low rumble as if the earth beneath it were moving. The man rushed from the church. He was gone. The wind died down. The air was still, as if nothing had ever happened here. The shadows closed upon the nave. The dusty sun came only through the windows. LASHER I sat down again, and peered once more at the altar. "Well, spirit?" I said. Lasher's secret voice spoke to me out of the emptiness and the silence. "I would not have those scholars near you. I would not have them near my witches." "But they know you, do they not? They have been to the glen. They know you. My ancestor Petyr van Abel . . ." "Yes, yes and yes. I have told you the past is nothing." "There is no power in knowing it? Then why did you drive the scholar away? Spirit,...
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10