Gom pulled the stopper and dripped its fulsome contents onto Wycan’s tongue. . . .
Wycan swayed, grabbed for the table, and held on . . .
Gom watched him anxiously. . . . “Are you alright?”
Wycan looked up, glassy-eyed. . . . “I’m fine. . . . What is that muck?”
“I can’t say. At least, not exactly, you see—” Gom broke off. The spell had worked.

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