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. Can you imag-
ine what might happen if some great, monstrous gnomish
engine were to have one part in it that works perfectly,
among all those other parts that don't? A thing like that
could be devastating. It could wipe out a colony."
Wingover thought about it, staring at the Hying ma-
chine in the sky. "I see what you mean," he said at last.
For a time the soarwagon cavorted over Barter, then it
began to descend and headed back toward the meadow.
It slowed, came to within ten feet of the ground, then
suddenly shot upward again, climbing away, regaining
speed.
Again it approached, and again, and each time it
whisked away aloft. On the fourth pass, as it crept by di-
rectly overhead, seeming almost to hang in the evening
air, Wingover cupped his hands and shouted, 'You've
proved your point, Bobbin! You can come down now!"
"Ican't!" the gnome's exasperated voice came back,
growing fainter as the soarwagon once again gained
speed and began to climb. "Itgoesupallright,butI-
can'tgetittogodown!"
"He may be insane," Wingover told the elf, "but he's
still a gnome."
In evening dusk, after giving up on ever seeing the
gnome land, the three went back into the village. Jilian
had lodgings at Rogar Goldbuckle's camp, and
Wingover would sleep in the stable loft
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