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. In the air above Chess, something voiceless seemed
to say, "Ah. Much better."
The kender stared up and around. "Zap? Was that
you?
Enraged and frothing, Loam dropped his club, curled
his body upward, and began clawing at the rope that
held him. The ogre's huge hand grasped it, then hand
over hand, he pulled himself upright and began to climb.
Chess cupped his hands and shouted, "Watch out,
Bobbin! The ogre's coming up your rope! I missed my
shot!"
"Drat and threadbind," the gnome's irritated voice an-
swered. "If you want something done right, you have to
do it yourself, I suppose. Now where did I put that
wrench? Ah, here it is."
The struggling, bucking soarwagon had edged away
from the bridge and was beginning, little by little, to fall
toward the gorge. Bobbin worked feverishly, loosing
first one lug and then the next, then drew back as his
winch mount broke loose, taking a piece of the soarwa-
gon with it. Ogre, supply line, and winch plummeted
away, into the mists of the great gorge. The soarwagon,
suddenly free of the creature's weight, shot upward like a
winged arrow. High above it did a tight barrel roll,
looped about, and headed out over the breaks, toward
the plains.
Chess danced on tiptoes, shouting, "Come back!
You've got Zap!" But it was far too late for his words to
be heard
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