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"I haven't thought much about where I'm going yet," the kender
said vaguely. "Wherever the wind blows me, I guess." Raising an empty
flagon upside-down, Tasslehoff threw his head back and waited for the
last dollop of flavorful foam to slide slowly into his waiting mouth.
At last, the froth drizzled out with a "plop!"
Smacking his lips in satisfaction, he wiped them with the edge
of his fur-trimmed sleeve. Squinting agains't the haze in the dimly
lit taproom, he looked at Tanis. "Friends all over Krynn have been
waiting for my next visit, though!" Tasslehoff pushed his empty mug to
the edge of the table for refilling.
Flint's eyes twinkled merrily under his bushy, grayblack brows.
"I'll bet they've been waiting! And I'll bet they've kept busy, too,
working on kender-proof door locks!" Beneath his huge bulb of a nose
and wild, peppery moustache, the old dwarf's mouth opened wide with
laughter, setting his fleshy cheeks to jiggling. Even Tanis, ever the
peacemaker, could not help smirking behind his hand.
"Oh, do you think so, really?" Tasslehoff cried earnestly. As he
smiled, his young face broke into a thousand tiny, spreading creases,
like a shattered pane of stained glass. Facial wrinkles were a
characteristic shared by all kender, which made it very difficult to
accurately guess a kender's age. "Most locks nowadays are so flimsy -
no protection at all! I don't know how anyone expects to keep anything
safe anymore."
"No one does if kender are about," Flint snorted under his
breath
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