The sorceress raised her hands. “Then burn.” “Does it have to be fire?” squealed Balthazar, shrinking from another wash of heat and holding his trembling palms even higher, playing for time as he stretched his will, ever so subtly, towards the two dead guardsmen. “It has never been my strong suit!” The shimmering around her hands had become even more intense. He could see her bones, glowing like red-hot metal within the flesh. “Do you have a strong suit?” she sneered, stepping between the smoking cadavers. “Well, since you ask…” Balthazar began subtly to move his fingers, threading through the
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