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. Because
kender weren't frightened of anything, Tas thought nothing
of telling the children about bloody battles in war-torn areas
of Krynn, vicious dragons, hobgoblins, or black-robed
magic-users. The children found such stories well worth
risking a night without supper.
The children who gathered at Prine Lake sat on the
ground and formed a tight circle around Tas, with the oldest
by his small, wriggling feet. Tas sat proudly under a
mammoth vallenwood, propped like a king on a wooden
stool so everyone could see him. He stroked his hoopak
staff and grinned broadly, delighted his audience was so
large. If only Flint could see him now.
While everyone waited impatiently, Tas took a
meticulously carved flute from an elegant, woven-rope,
yellow pouch that was strapped around his neck. As he
brought it toward his lips, a young boy named Jespato
intercepted his hand.
"My, that looks like my father's flute!" the boy
exclaimed without suspicion.
"Your father's flute?" asked Tas innocently.
"It's been missing since the last time you were in
Spritzbriar!"
The kender's childlike face flushed red. He examined
the instrument. "Great Uncle Trapspringer! It IS your
father's flute! Good eye, boy! Now I remember: I took it for
safekeeping
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