To win the contest meant you would be chosen to apprentice in magic as a priest under her tutelage. Rain pounded the tin roof, and waterfalls obscured the pavilion into its own private 91 chamber. Capes was irritatingly judicial in the matter, neither absurdly against, in which case one might have smashed him, or hopelessly undecided, but tepidly sceptical. Caliban absolutely crowed with delight.
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