Thomas Kinkade The Edge of Wilderness

Thomas Kinkade The Edge of WildernessThomas Kinkade St. Nicholas CircleThomas Kinkade Silent Night
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Spelter stopped. His face froze. He turned around very slowly, without willing it, because something was gently stood there, catching his breath.
'You don't frighten me,' he lied, and turned on his heel and marched off in a different direction, snapping his fingers to produce a torch that burned with a fine white flame (only its penumbra of octarine proclaimed it to be of magical origin).
Once again, the staff was in front of him. The light of his torch was sucked into spinning him.He knew the University was empty. The wizards had all moved into the New Tower, where the lowliest stu­dent had a suite more splendid than any senior mage had before.The staff hung in the air a few feet away. It was surrounded by a faint octarine glow.He stood up very carefully and, keeping his back to the stonework and his eyes firmly fixed on the thing, slithered gingerly along the wall until he reached the end of the corridor. At the corner he noted that the staff, while not moving had revolved on its axis to follow him.He gave a little cry, grasped the skirts of his robe, and ran.The staff was in front of him. He slid to a halt and