"We can't be responsible for death or disfigurement, you know," reminded the duelsmaster.
He toyed with the company emblem on his ceremonial robe absently, awaiting Marmorth's answer. Behind him, across the onyx and crystal expanse of the reception chamber, the gaping maw of the silver corridor opened into blackness.
"Yes, yes, I know all that," snapped Marmorth impatiently. "Has Krane entered his end?" he asked, casting a glance at the dilation-segment leading to the adjoining preparation room. There was fear and apprehension in the look, only thinly hidden.
"Not quite yet," the duelsmaster told him. "By now he has signed the release, and they are briefing him, as I'm about to brief you, if you'll kindly sign yours." He indicated the printed form in the built-in frame and the stylus on the desk.
Marmorth licked his lips, grumbled briefly, and flourished the stylus on the blank line. The duelsmaster glanced quickly at the signature, then pressed the stud on the desk top. The blank slipped out of sight inside the desk. He carefully took the stylus from Marmorth's unfeeling fingers, placed it in its holder. They waited patiently for a minute. A soft clucking came up through a slot at the side of the desk, and a second later a punched plastic plate dropped into a trough beneath it.
"This is your variation-range card," explained the duelsmaster, lifting the plate from the basket. "With this we can gauge the extent of your imagination, set up the illusions, send you through the corridor at your own mental pace."
)
