by Beatrice Grimshaw
The light-hearted escapades of two adventurers trying to acquire a fabled and sacred jewel-and one getting it then trying to keep it!
Mo had taken a crystal out of his bag. It was a pretty thing, like the end off a chandelier luster, and just about the same size, only it was double-ended, with two points.
The lizard lay dead upon the ground. Mo pointed the crystal at it and began stroking the air just above the little corpse. Over and over it he went with the crystal, making lines of light as the dying fire caught the quartz and drew colors out of it.
I know that no one will believe what happened next, but the lizard moved. It got up, staggered and walked away. It was alive.
“Let me look yet again at the crystal,” said the Marquis. “It is of course but an instrument of the power-still—”
He took it in his hands, and began examining it. Mo kept a close watch on it, hovering over us like a hen over her chickens when a hawk is about. It was plain that he valued his charm quite a good deal.
“The finest crystal I ever saw, with any one of these sorcerers,” I declared, handling it.
“It’s bigger than the Kohinoor, but not near so big as the Cullinan,” I said in a whisper.
“Nevertheless, it is a king’s fortune,” affirmed the Marquis. “And this sorcerer is using it to make charms!”
“If we can get it—”
FIRST TIME IN PAPERBACK FORM.
|Title:||The Sorcerer’s Stone|
|Price:||$12.95 US / Trade paperback / 106 pp.|