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." He disappeared
again.
Woodrow cleared his throat, then spoke to Tasslehoff
in a low tone. "I don't have a good feeling about this, Mr.
Burrfoot."
The gnome reappeared again, this time dangling an
apple on a stick toward them. "I've got foooooood," he
chanted, waving the stick from side to side. "Red, juicy
aaaaaaaapples. Caaaarrots. Raaaabbits. Dishes of
buuuuugs. Whatever you kender eat, we've got it. Just
follow me."
"Apples?" Tas was not actually hungry, but he was al-
ways ready to eat. "I love apples. I could use something
to eat, come to think of it." Tasslehoff headed toward the
door.
Woodrow took the kender's arm and swung him
around. "This sounds very bad to me, Mr. Burrfoot," he
whispered. "What kind of place serves bugs?"
"Well, it's not the Inn of the Last Home," Tas conceded;
he liked the gnome. But, noting Woodrow's concern, he
forced himself to be serious. "There's only one way to
find out where we are." He stepped through the door be-
fore the human could protest further.
Abruptly, they were in a very narrow, dark stairway
that leveled out into a long stone corridor. Ahead, wav-
ing them on impatiently, was the gnome.
"Come on, come on! I have things to do, too, you
know." He pushed up his spectacles distractedly.
Tasslehoff skipped ahead to his side. "Where are we
goings And who are you, if you don't mind me asking
again?"
"Well, I do. Didn't my brother tell you anything?" the
gnome growled. "He's always leaving that to me. Well, I
just won't do it this time
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