The ranger’s eyes went wide. “Beware!” he hissed. “Evil is near!” for the lodestone was glowing with an eerie greenish light, such as was known to Penthos as “ghostlight number seven,” a favorite with the magical artificers and gimickers of Ening’s Garth who so overcharged him on every visit.
Tchaikovsky makes so many great genre jokes throughout the book. This was one of my favourites.
