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. Whatever was
talking here just kind of seemed to talk. It wasn't the
same.
With a grunt of exasperation, he put his hands on his
hips and asked, 'Whose birth and death?"
"Mine and theirs," something seemed to respond.
"Theirs and yours?" As the kender asked the question,
his bright eyes were darting from one side to the other,
looking for a clue as to who was talking to him.
For a moment there was silence, then the silence whis-
pered, "Death and birth. Go and see." And a few yards
away, just where the trees began, there was a brief shift-
ing of light - as though the air there had moved.
"Probably something truly dreadful over there some-
where," Chess decided. "Maybe even a deathtrap for
kender. I guess I had better go and see."
He turned his back on the black road and entered the
verge of forest where the odd shifting of air had been. A
few feet into the woods he saw it again - a little way
ahead and beckoning.
"Ogres, maybe," the kender told himself cheerfully. "A
beckoning vesper to lead the unwary into a nest of ogres.
Or hobgoblins, perhaps? No, probably not. They aren't
smart enough to think of something like that." He paused
for a moment, searched in his pouch, and withdrew a
sling - a small, soft-leather pocket with elastic loops at-
tached to either end
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