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. "Zap," he
said again, to himself. "I'll call him Zap. Good a name as
any for a spell that hasn't happened."
"Need to happen," something grieved.
"Well, I'd just as soon you detach yourself from me be-
fore you do," the kender said. "I don't even know what
kind of spell you are."
"Old," something mourned.
'You've made that clear." Chess peered into a shallow
cabinet containing many pigeonhole shelves. Shadows
made it hard to see what the shelves contained, and he
reached toward them, then withdrew his hand when he
felt the Irda's eyes on him. He turned. "Just looking," he
grinned. "Maybe I should go outside and look around."
Kenderlike, the thought immediately became the
action. Chess strode to the door of the hut, pushed it
open, and darted out, closing it behind him.
From his first glimpse of this place, the place of the
Irda, Chess had been fascinated by the tall obelisk in the
stone-paved clearing. Now he went to it again, directly
to its north face where he had found handholds and toe-
holds leading upward. He had intended to see where they
went, but seeing the Irda had made him forget that, mo-
mentarily.
The marks in the north face of the monolith weren't
really a stairway, only a series of shallow indentations
set at regular intervals up the precipitous stone face
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