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. "If I had come down, do you think I'd
still be up here? A roast elk sandwich would be just fine,
thank you. With raisins, preferably. And I could use
some cider, but water will do if that's all you have. I'll
drop a line, and you can send it up. Where are you go-
ing?"
"We're going to see if Chane Feldstone is in that valley
ahead," Jilian told him, pulling food from the travel
pack.
"We are not," Wingover snapped. "We're just going to
the rim of it. That's all."
"He thinks there are cats in there," Jilian explained to
the flying gnome. "He worries all the time about cats."
"Do they have wings, like the innkeeper's pigs?" the
gnome wondered.
Jilian giggled. "Of course not. They're just cats."
"Very big cats," Wingover added.
"Seems to me you need a scouting service," the gnome
said. "After I eat, I guess I could go fly over the valley
and look around for you, if you'll tell me what you're
looking for."
"Chane Feldstone," Jilian said. "He's a dwarf, about
this tall and very handsome -"
"Cats," Wingover said. "We're on the lookout for cats."
For a moment the gnome didn't answer. An air current
had caught his soarwagon, and he was struggling to hold
it in place. His controls seemed to consist mostly of
strings that ran from the basket to the fabric panels of the
thing's boxy nose, strings that controlled the angle and
pitch of the panels
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