The cadence of the speech reminded me of Fireeyes, but this voice was deeper than the dead warlock.I glanced around. Light streamed through a hole in ...he wall over my head. I nimbly climbed up the stones, clutching my unstrung bow in one hand. My quiver of arrows clattered together as I worked my way up the wall, my fingers and toes digging into cracks and indentations in the stone.I reached the top. The sunlight was bright to my eyes and I winced as they adjusted. A foul scent of death washed. Stephanie took me aside during our break one evening."Mark," she told me laughing, "you know that all of these young coeds in our class, when they are waiting for their turns to dance with the men? They sit there admiring your wide shoulders and your tight little buns! They say things like 'not bad for a professor.'" And how do you know? Why are they telling you?" I asked her, thinking that she was pulling my leg."Because I tell them that I completely agree with them!" was her response,. More

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