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"I guess," Tas said morosely. "I've never met her. I think her
name begins with a 'D,' or at least it sounds like 'D.' Dorcas...
Dipilfis... Gimrod... Something like that."
Flint could contain himself no longer; he burst out laughing.
"I'd like to see the look on her face when she sees what she's
getting! Ha!"
"Tas," Tanis said kindly, looking into the kender's crestfallen
face, "do you want to marry this girl?" Tas pursed his lips in
thought, watching leaves swirl in Tika's wake as she marched by with a
tray of drinks.
"I've never thought about it, really. I always figured I'd get
married someday... someday later... much later."
"If you don't want to marry her, the honorable thing to do is to
go back and tell her so," Tanis suggested reasonably. "Or send a
message through Miss Hornslager here. I'm sure the girl will
understand."
Tas brightened slightly. "I suppose I could do that."
"Well, let me just tell you that Miss Hornslager won't
understand," Gisella grumbled. "I get paid for delivering a kender,
not a message. Bundle him up, Woodrow," she instructed abruptly. "You
don't need to treat me like a sack of potatoes," Tas pointed out, his
face dark.
"I don't know," Flint said mischievously, a twinkle in his eye.
He was enjoying Tas's discomfort immensely.
"I'd keep my eyes on him every minute. He may intend to return
with you today, but a butterfly might cross his path tomorrow, and off
he'll go."
Gisella looked directly at Tas and clicked her tongue
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