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. No one does, except pris-
oners now and then."
"That's why I'm here!" Phineas exclaimed.
"Oh," responded the kender, "are you checking in as
a prisoner?"
Phineas scratched his chest for a moment, puzzled
by the kender's question. "No," he responded simply.
Spying a bench, Phineas hobbled over to it and
plopped down. He rested a moment under the kender's
curious gaze.
"My name is Phineas Curick," he began. "I've been
trying for two days to find this palace because I need
to talk to Trapspringer Furrfoot, whom I understand is
being held a prisoner within. There. Now, who are
you?"
"Bigelow Spadestomper, your friend and acquaint-
ance." He extended his small, muddy hand. "I am the
groundskeeper and gardener here at the palace, the
fourth Spadestomper groundskeeper in as many Spa-
destomper generations. And, yes, there is a Trap-
springer in residence at the moment. I believe that's
him leaning out the window, there on the second
floor."
Phineas looked up and, sure enough, there was the
kender he recognized as Trapspringer Furrfoot leaning
out an arched window, casually cleaning his finger-
nails with a small knife. Phineas paused for a moment,
unsure what to make of this. The human had expected
to find the kender locked in a cell or some similarly un-
pleasant place. Yet here was Trapspringer, lounging
out an open window on the second floor of a palace.
Bigelow caught the baffled look on the human's face.
"Oh, yes, sir, I see you're wondering why he's there
on the second floor," he said
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