The novel (2) Heremor has got out of his pocket a small silver box that was a little bigger than a snuffbox. When he opened them an invisible bells had ringed gently and the corridor had lighted up by soft golden shine. Ollo had enviously glanced at the box in the hands of his friend. He had the Guard Magical Ammunition too, but his box was stannic as prescribed by statute for private soldiers and it had lighted by dim bluish light. And no music of course. Meantime Heremor, continually checking an instruction, was drawing by the well-groomed nail the magician symbols in the internal side of his box. The symbols had shined by a bright red flame and was continued to burn with a silent crunch sound. - What a spell do you write? – Ollo asked. - Get out, - Heremor said. – You’ll confuse me.