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. His lips pursed
in a low whistle. "Wow," he said again. Then, "Chestal
Thicketsway's the name. I'm a kender, from Hylo. What
on Krynn are you?"
"Inquisitive," the Irda murmured. "I am Irda, little
one."
"I wondered what you'd look like," Chess nodded.
"My great-uncle, Tauntry Rimrunner, used to talk about
the Irda. I must say, you don't look anything like an
ogre."
Chane whirled on the kender, offended and as-
tounded. "What a thing to say!" But a hand on his shoul-
der stopped him.
"Ogres and the Irda," Glenshadow whispered, leaning
close, "a long time ago, they were the same people...
before ogres became ogrelike and ugly. They aren't at all
the same any more."
"The cats are gone," Chess noted suddenly, turning to
look all around the clearing.
'They won't bother you again," the Irda said. "They
have seen you with me, and I've assured them. They've
gone now to patrol the valley. Waykeep likes its privacy."
"Those cats are a pretty effective way of discouraging
visitors," Chane noted.
"Come to my home," the Irda beckoned, turning away.
"There is sweetnog for refreshment, and we can talk in
comfort." She headed for the hut among the trees, and
they followed.
Chane paused for a moment as he passed the mono-
lith, and looked up toward its top
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