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. Behind him,
across the road, the cat pack snarled and rumbled, un-
able to cross.
"Well, come on," Chane glanced back. "Let's see what
it was that you wanted to look at."
It might once have been a machine, in some incredibly
ancient time. Or it might have been a building. Perhaps
even both. Now it was a great heap of rubble and broken
metal things, slowly surrendering to the landscape. Trees
hundreds of years old grew from its crest, vines and
brush obscured its slopes, and a carpeting of forest leaves
and grassy loam was well along toward burying it.
Chane and Chess wandered over and around it, peer-
ing, poking, and prying.
"This looks like part of a wheel," the kender chattered.
"But why would anybody make a wheel fifteen feet
across? Wow! Look at those things sticking out of the
mess. What are they, drills? They're as big around as -
and here's some old, rusty chain. Must have weighed a
ton per link when it was still good iron. I wonder what
this was, over here. A furnace of some kind? Did you no-
tice that all these stones scattered over here are square?
They might have been paving blocks. What do you sup-
pose this thing was when it was something?"
"I haven't the vaguest idea." Chane was digging
through a reddish heap of vaguely-shaped rust tumbles,
raising a cloud of thin red dust that settled on his black
furs like rust-colored snow
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