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. For
a curious kender, however, they were ladder enough.
Chess slung his hoopak on his back and started climbing.
In the distance, in moon-shadowed forest beyond the
Irda's clearing, he could hear the rumbling purr of cats on
patrol. And somewhere far away, a hint of sound carried
back on errant breezes, a raucous bird-voice cawed, "Go
away!"
The hand-and toeholds went up and up, and Chess
clung and climbed. Near the top, he could look out and
see the moon-bathed tops of the forest, the dark walls of
the valley beyond to east and west. Then, abruptly, there
were no more indentations in the face of the cone. With
the top of the monument almost within reach - no more
than ten feet above - there was only sheer, smooth stone
and nothing to cling to. Chess hunted around for some-
thing that his fingers could grasp, his toes brace into, or
his hoopak reach. There was nothing. In frustration he
clung there for long minutes, then sighed and accepted
defeat.
"Isn't that just how things go?" he muttered, beginning
a reluctant descent. "Probably the most interesting thing
in this whole place is right there on top of this spire, just
sitting there waiting to be looked at. Naturally the stairs
don't go quite far enough. I wonder what it is, up there
...might be something valuable, if a person could just
reach it
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