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Devil of Gold himself. Diavolo d'Oro. He was holding up the archway on the
hunch of his broad shoulders. He was short and very thin, some four and a
half feet tall. He had centaurs' hooves for feet and a short stubby pair of thick
wings.
He had no arms.
His shoulders ended in round graceful curves. His face was elongated
and came to a point near his chin, which extended into an angular chin-beard.
He was made entirely of gold.
He's made entirely of gold! observed the Emperor. Head to toe! Well,
head to cloven foot. He's literally made of gold.
The Demon of Gold was weeping, with anger. “I give up!” he shouted, at
first to no one, but then when he saw Emperor Aurumius, he brightened. “You
there! Come over here. Hold up this corner of the roof of my palace. I'll only
be a minute.”
“Me?” asked Emperor Aurumius IV.
“You see anyone else out here in the desert, amico? Here, come hoist
this roof for me a second.”
“Hoist? Emperor's don't -- I don't -- with my hands you want me to -- I
literally don't know the meaning of the word 'hoist'.”
“I don't have any arms,” said Diavolo d'Oro. “So I can't hold up my
palace except on the back of my shoulders.”
“You don't have a palace. That's just an archway.”
“Look again.” If it was a palace, it was so nearly hidden you wouldn't see
its towers at first, even if you knew to look for them. But now that he knew to
look, sure enough, to Emperor Aurumius's utter astonishment, what once had
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