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."
Somewhat disoriented and thoroughly cranky,
Wingover once more headed for the flying pigs, which
were just ahead now, gliding in happy circles above the
inn. The man walked more slowly, though, and cast cau-
tious glances at the dwarven girl and her sword.
The place was busy, as usual. During trade seasons,
Barter was always busy. A few tables back, though,
Garon Wendesthalas sat alone. The elf stood as they en-
tered, and beckoned to Wingover. As they approached
he said, "Well, did Goldbuckle pay you off without a
quarrel?"
"I don't want to talk about it," Wingover snapped.
"Did you learn anything about the goblins?"
"Not much. Just a lot of rumors about all sorts of
strange things. How about you?"
"About the same. But I have a problem. I'm heading
north again tomorrow. Goldbuckle called in his debt."
"More trading packs?" the elf asked.
"Escort service." He turned a surly thumb toward Ji-
lian, who stood just behind his hip. "This is Jilian Fire-
stoke," Wingover said sourly. "I'm to take her out to find
a missing dwarf. Jilian, this is Garon Wendesthalas."
"Oh, my." Jilian looked up at the tall, melancholy be-
ing. 'You're an elf, aren't you? I'm pleased to meet you."
They sat down to mugs of cool ale, and the human and
the elf compared what they had heard
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