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.
The display cases here were much taller and held one
stuffed creature each.
"These are all dinosaurs," Tasslehoff said, breathless
with awe. "I never realized they were so big." He threw
his head back to run his gaze the full length of the largest
dinosaur, its incredibly long, muscular neck fully ex-
tended. He took note of the plaque at its feet: 'Apatosau-
rus.' Next to it was the number 220.
"You collect dinosaurs, too? What does that number
mean?" Tas asked.
"Of course we collect dinosaurs," the gnome said in ex-
asperation. "We collect everything. The number means
that it, uh, came into the collection in the year two hun-
dred twenty."
"But that was more than one hundred twenty years
ago!" Tas gasped. "You can't be that old."
The gnome beamed. "Why, thank you for saying so!"
He lifted his orange hat and slicked his hair back with his
hand. "I'm not." Suddenly his eyes narrowed. "You're
trying to get answers out of me, and I told you you'd
have to wait for my brother."
"You could at least tell us who you are and why that
dragon came to life and what this place is," Woodrow de-
manded, his voice shaking.
In reply, the gnome clamped his lips shut and herded
Tas and Woodrow into a small, torch-lit laboratory off
the dinosaur display room.
Water dripped down the cold, stone walls in the circu-
lar room. From floor to ceiling on the walls were shelves.
The shelves were packed with empty glass jars, and
seemed to be organized by color more than shape or
function. Tall, thin, red ones were perched next to short,
squatty bowls, which ranged in size from one inch in di-
ameter to two feet
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