“ For Franga the warlock was kneeling in his chapel, and to see Franga on his knees was like watching the devil recite a paternoster. But it was no holy altar before which the wizard bent. The black stone of it bulked huge in this tiny, bare room echoing still with the thunder of battle, and in the split-second between the door's fall and Jirel's crashing entry through its ruins Franga had crouched in a last desperate effort at—at what? His bony shoulders beneath their rich black robe heaved with frantic motion as he fingered the small jet bosses that girdled the altar's block. ”

“ Over his shoulder Franga snarled at her, pale lips writhing back from discolored teeth. Physically he was terrified of her, and his terror paralyzed him. She saw him hesitate, evidently torn between his desire to snatch into safety what was hidden in the altar and his panic fear of her sword that dripped blood upon the stones. . . .
You will not want to miss tin's utterly strange and thrilling novelette, in which Jirel and Northwest Smith join forces against the mighty evil powers of Franga the warlock. ”

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