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."
"We are friends," Tas said patiently. "But I was so
bored in my room."
"But you weren't even in there for ten minutes,"
Woodrow pointed out. He looked around at the room in
which he'd found the kender. "This one looks just like
yours -- they all look alike, for that matter."
"Really, Woodrow, it's not my fault they're all the
same," Tas sulked. "Nothing interesting in the drawers,"
he said, pulling one out of a dresser and holding it up to
demonstrate. "See? Empty, just like all the others."
He opened his arms wide to show off his new outfit. "I
found these clothes on the bed in my room." Tasslehoff
plucked at the sides of the tunic. "It's a bit big, but then so
are dwarves, at least sideways. The trousers sure feel
weird," he continued, giving them a tug as well, "but my
leggings were so dirty that clouds of dust whooshed out
every time I took a step. I washed them in my basin and
left them to dry.
"These pockets are very roomy, though," he added,
jamming his hands into their depths to demonstrate.
Tas's fine brows shot up in surprise. From his pockets em-
erged an elaborate silver candlestick, a delicate, glass
bud-vase, a bar of soap, and a boar-bristle hairbrush.
"Whoever wore these before me sure carried a lot of
stuff in his pockets," he said matter-of-factly. Examining
the items more closely, he added, "I saw some things ex-
actly like these in the other rooms.... Baron Krakold
should be more careful about the people he invites into
his home. Someone might have walked away with all
this if I hadn't found these pants
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