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. He grinned, lifted the lid
and emptied the contents of the pouch inside.
When Otik came back, he checked the bar carefully. Nothing
seemed to be missing. He eyed Moonwick, who smiled innocently
at him. "Nice ale," the kender said.
"It's my own recipe." The innkeeper added, "Thanks to your
contribution, this batch will be even better."
The kender choked. Otik stooped to pat his back, then retrieved
an empty purse from the floor. "What's this?"
"Mine." The kender deftly plucked it from the innkeeper's
hands. "I hope to fill it someday."
"Not in my inn." Otik added, as the kender rose to leave, "My
thanks, Moonwick. Leave the door open, so the brew smell will air
out. Come back next full moon, if you wish to taste what you
carried."
"Best I hurry on," Moonwick said regretfully. Which was
true-sooner or later Ralf might come looking for him. "I do hope
I can return to sample that batch." He shook hands with Otik, who
checked his ring after-ward.
Otik listened to the reassuring thump of the ken-der's departure
down the stairs, and sighed. He said to himself, "There's one
source of trouble gone, and no harm done. Now to heat the
alewort." He walked to the back, looking for Tika.
While he was away, two fire swallows, a male and a female,
flew in the open door and pecked at the fine spicy powder spilled
from the purse. The two of them flew out in circles, squawking,
billing, and frenziedly pressing against each other's bodies
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