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... oh, cross-
current! Hang on!"
Chess clung to the line as the soarwagon nosed up, and
suddenly realized that his feet were no longer on the
ground. He looked down. The hill where he had rested
was falling away below, as was the rest of the world.
Moonlit landscapes widened beneath him, shrinking
away to miniature forests, streams, trails, and ridges.
Higher and higher the soarwagon soared, the bit in its
teeth now and the winds of altitude under its wings.
"Would you look at that," the kender breathed. "Wow!
What a view!"
Above him, the gnome muttered and swore, working
at his controls. "Linkjoint!" he said in obvious annoy-
ance. "The zag and the zig have reversed again. I thought
I had that fixed." He leaned out from his basket, squint-
ing as he peered downward. "Are you still there?"
"I certainly hope so," Chess assured him. "Otherwise
I'm in a lot of trouble."
"Well, don't just hang there gawking! Come up here
and help me. You can hand me my tools."
"How do I get up there?" Chess asked.
"Just a minute. When I get my hands free, I'll winch
you up. Don't go away."
"I wouldn't dream of it," the kender assured him.
Moments passed, then Chess felt the rope inching up-
ward toward the belly of the gnome's invention. Winch-
teeth rattled above, and the great, shadowy wings
seemed to close down on the kender like storm clouds de-
scending
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