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.
Trapspringer set off to the right. "In the meantime, you
watch the far side of this road, and I'll watch the near
side."
"What are we looking for, exactly?" asked a confused
Phineas, pumping his legs to keep up with the nimble-
footed kender.
"Signs of Damaris, of course."
"What sorts of signs?"
"You know, signs! Footprints, hoofprints, turned-over
rocks, bits of trash, campfires, whatever. Just keep your
eyes open."
Phineas shrugged. He'd tracked his little sister through
fresh snow once when he was seven years old and almost
lost the trail. He suspected he was not going to be much
help in this search.
They followed the road slowly for some time, finding
nothing but chipmunks and field mice, when Phineas
heard Trapspringer calling his name. He looked over his
shoulder and saw the kender standing several yards
down a side street, motioning to Phineas to follow. The
human led his pony behind Trapspringer as they ap-
proached a large, virtually intact building.
Shortly, they stood among the crumbled columns of a
large portico. "What was this, a temple perhaps?" asked
Phineas, squinting up at the tall stone building. The front
doors were twelve feet high, the side walls at least twenty
feet. Arched windows lined the walls in graceful rows,
and a round window stood out against the top of the
peaked front wall. The roof of slate had survived rentu-
ries of neglect.
"Perhaps. Let's see if Damaris is in here," Trapspringer
suggested. Wasting no time, he took a small lantern from
the limitless pack on the pony, lit it, and strode into the
structure
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