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... and at the striking young dwarven
girl - hardly more than half his stature - who tagged af-
ter him, scampering to keep pace with his long strides.
The sight, to most, was another entertainment in a vil-
lage that offered many entertainments.
"How you feel about it doesn't matter," the dwarven
girl shouted at the man's stiff back. 'You must take me to
find Chane. Rogar Goldbuckle said you would."
"It's a fool's errand," Wingover snapped. "First he
cheats me out of an honest fee, then he sends me on a
fool's errand. May the curl-winds carry me away if ever I
do business with a -"
"It shouldn't be a difficult trip," the girl puffed, wishing
he would slow down. "At least, I don't imagine it is. I
have a map, you know... of where Chane was last
seen."
Wingover stopped abruptly and swung around, tow-
ering over her. 'You're crazy," he snorted. "One lone
dwarf - and a girl one at that - out in that wilderness'!
You wouldn't live an hour. Don't you know what's out
there?"
"Not really. I've never been out of Thorbardin before.
But how bad could it be? People do go there sometimes,
don't they? Oh, look!"
"What?" He glanced around.
"There's a gnome! That is a gnome, isn't it? I've never
seen a gnome before. They're very small, aren't they?"
"So it's a gnome," Wingover snapped
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