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. Even though
she found him repulsive, she did love the attention.
Now the hard dealing began. Gisella flipped through
the bolts, casting aside anything she judged to be of
inferior quality and grilling the merchant over weavers,
cost, dyes, and age.
"This isn't real silver thread!" she snorted, raveling a
strand from the end of a bolt.
As Tasslehoff watched the dwarves bargaining, a
whooshing, clanking, grinding symphony started up be-
hind him. Turning, Tas realized that it was coming from
the carousel! He immediately started forward, but
Woodrow's hand stopped him.
"But the carousel is starting," the kender pleaded.
"Look at it! Animals going up and down and around in a
circle. And it's playing music!"
Woodrow stood fast.
"OK, then come with me and I won't be lost," reasoned
Tas.
Woodrow eyed the carousel, intrigued but unsure. "I
don't know..."
"I do!" Tas cried. "Come on. Gisella will be looking at
cloth all morning. She's still arguing about the third
bolt." He pulled at Woodrow's sleeve. "Just one ride.
We'll be back before she even notices we've left. Come
on, Woodrow!"
At last, Woodrow's own curiosity overcame his better
judgment. He looked back at Gisella, then trailed behind
the kender toward the carousel.
Next to the carousel was a churning mass of gears and
pulleys and knobs and chains that obviously made the
whole thing go. Even though the ride was in motion, a
short, bald gnome wearing an ankle-length, white coat
and goggles on a cord around his neck, scurried to and
fro with a handful of wrenches, twisting this screw, pull-
ing that rod, and banging on that other gear
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