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. Phineas nodded slowly.
"Unfortunately for Mr. Furrfoot, the grand suite on
the third floor was unavailable, seeing as how it's be-
ing used by some visiting blue bloods in from Balifor.
Still, the second floor is comfortable enough, in an op-
ulent sort of way."
Phineas looked from Trapspringer to the gardener
and asked, "How do I speak with the prisoner?"
Bigelow looked at him strangely. "Why, you just
walk in that door, go up the stairs, and find him. How
do you humans usually talk to prisoners? Say hello to
dear Trapspringer for me. Pleasant fellow, and so
smart! I've finished weeding the flower beds here, so
I'm off. Good-bye!" In a few moments, Bigelow was
engulfed by the blinding yellow sunrise creeping
around the right corner of the palace.
"Good-bye," Phineas said limply, watching him go.
He set off for the door the gardener had indicated.
Passing a flower bed, he noticed that nearly all the
flowering plants had been uprooted and that weeds
grew abundantly but neatly within the confines of the
bed. The human would never get used to that peculiar
kender gardening technique.
Phineas walked quickly down the right side of the
reflecting pool to the stairs at the base of the central
dome. The cool marble was soothing on his blistered
feet.
Before long, though, he pressed on up the flight of
pristine, white stairs, which ended at a platform. The
entrance to the palace proper was up one more short
flight of stairs. An ornately carved archway at least as
high as thirty men opened into another one at least
half as tall
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