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Phineas did not notice Trapspringer skipping hap-
pily down the palace steps until he realized he was
alone. He hurried through the vast archs and spotted
Trapspringer's reflection dancing in the rectangular
pool.
"Hey, wait! Where are you going?" the human called
after him.
The kender squatted on the shallow steps leading
into the pool and deftly fashioned a paper boat from
one of the oiled parchment maps in his cape. Wrap-
ping a triangular piece of paper around a thin, straight
stick, he attached it as a mast. Adding three small
rocks as ballast, he gave the boat a gentle shove into
the center of the pool.
"Trapspringer, you said you want to see your
nephew again?" Phineas asked anxiously. "Bigelow
was right. The mayor will never send a bounty hunter
after his own daughter. But if someone else -- say, for
example, me -- were to bring Damaris back from the
Ruins, your nephew would still have to return for the
wedding."
"That's awfully kind of you -- what was your name
again? -- but not necessary. This sort of thing happens
all the time with birthmates. One gets tired of waiting
for the other. They'll either get around to it eventually,
or they won't." He jabbed at the boat with a long stick.
"But I insist! It's no problem, really. It's the least I
can do for that map," Phineas added cautiously.
"Oh, yes, the map." Trapspringer looked up from
the boat and nodded. "Come to think of it, I haven't
been to the Ruins in years. It might be fun."
'You needn't come along," Phineas assured him hastily
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