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. "How come
he's following you, anyway? I mean, it. That isn't a per-
son, you know. It's just an old spell that never hap-
pened."
"I don't know why he follows me, but he... it does.
Zap! I do wish you'd be quiet!"
The wailing, sobbing almost-sound continued. Chane
sighed, stood, and looked around. They were on a wide,
rubbly ledge with another wall of shorn stone ahead.
But, as the kender had pointed out, the wall diminished a
short distance away and a path began there, angling up-
ward. Abruptly evening had come, with the setting of
the sun beyond the valley's other rim, but there still was
lingering twilight.
"We have time to go on a little farther," Chane decided.
"I wonder if we're anywhere near that green path."
"The one I can't see?" Chess spread his hands. "I
haven't the vaguest idea."
Chane looked one way, then the other, along the
mountain's slope. He rubbed his forehead, feeling the
tingle there, but saw no green trail. Still, he knew from
last sighting that he was somewhere near it. From a dis-
tance, it had appeared there was a shallow pass between
peaks above, and the dwarf had assumed that the trail
was going there. But by what route'! He went to his pack,
fumbled around inside it, then looked up. "Where's my
gem?"
"Your what?"
"Spellbinder! Where is it?"
The kender looked thoughtful, then snapped his fin-
gers and reached into his own pouch
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