The Wizardry Cursed (Wiz, Book 3)
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Wiz Zumwalt and his gang of Silicon Valley hackers and otherworld wizards must stop whoever has created the adjoining universe, where magic and technology both work and whose power could destroy their own world.
things will hurt, Gilligan thought. But he just nodded. Wiz nodded in return. "Very well, then. Your equipment's in the next room. You might want to check it over and make sure you've got everything you need while you've still got time. Bronwyn will meet you there for the healing." * * * Just about all his gear was there in a neat pile, even the things he had discarded when he came ashore on the island. It was all restored by magic. Somehow they had even managed to refill the magazines of
and utensils back, but the food and drink had been disposed of as possibly poisoned. The remaining contents of the basket had tested safe, Arianne assured them. But somehow it didn't make up for the rest. Moira looked sadly at the still-smoldering remains of the blanket. For a moment Wiz thought she would cry. "I'm sorry about the blanket, darling." Moira looked up at him, smiled and clutched his arm. "I'm glad it was only the blanket." Thirteen: AIR ATTACK Glandurg put his hands on his
Ivan Kuznetsov said, hefting the bar of gold absently, "what do we do now?" The occupants of the cockpit looked at one another and no one said anything. By now it was painfully obvious they would all share the same fate. "Think, comrades," Kuznetsov urged. "Think as if your lives depended on it." As they well may, he didn't have to add. "What could have possibly happened to that computer?" "It was fine when we loaded it aboard," Vasily said. "I checked and rechecked it myself." "And I also,"
pain. "I have supported him," he finished. "But perhaps not with everything asked for?" Aelric murmured. "There was mention of a sword, I believe?" "Blind Fury?" Tosig screamed. "Never! Never in a thousand lifetimes I tell you!" He dissolved into a choking fit. "A great treasure to be sure," Aelric agreed. "And yet after all you have done it would be ironic if you were blamed for—lack of support." "Greed," Tosig grated. "Say it outright! Dwarves are miserly and for my miserliness I would not
took so long. What we did then laid the groundwork for what I'm doing now." She smiled. "The secret of good programming is that you spend ninety percent of your time up front building tools and maybe ten percent on the actual job—plus the other ninety percent of the time it takes to debug everything, of course. Unlike most of the people I've worked for, you were smart enough to stand back and let us spend the time on the tools. So now . . ." again the shrug, "it's easy." "You said you also