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. End this story now, or I'll end your
life, instead."
A storyteller is nothing if his tales don't have the ring of
truth. And this story had but one true ending. . . .
"My friends," I said softly, making them all lean forward
and strain their ears to hear, "THE THREE ORPHANS ARE
HERE IN THIS ROOM."
The officer began to raise his sword.
At the same time, however, the kender began shouting,
"Where are they? I don't see them! Are they under the
tables?"
"You doorknobs!" roared the dwarves, glaring at the
kender in disgust. They knew what I was talking about. As
for the gnomes, they became instantly agitated, but they all
spoke so fast that no one could understand a single word
they were saying.
The officer laughed at all three races. "The fools," he
said. Then he prodded me with the tip of his sword. "Out
the door, Kenro," he commanded.
I had come from a small woodland village and had never
known the intoxicating effect of hearing a crowd chant my
name. But Jawbone Jekson had. Now there was a man who
could weave a tale. People would walk two days to reach
our village in order to hear him. Their return trip, however,
always seemed to go faster because their heads were filled
with his wondrous tales
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