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." The
gnome deftly lifted his goggles and let them fall into
place over his eyes with a loud "snap." "Anothertime,
perhaps," he added, poking his thumb through a neat
little hole in his right glove. Quick as a flash he slipped
the ring over his thumb, squeezed his eyes tightly shut,
and then was gone!
Gisella's hand dropped uselessly. She whirled
around, scanning the crowd, but she saw no sign of the
gnome. The dwarf squinted up into the sky at the now-
distant, black dot that was Tasslehoff and Woodrow.
Just then she spotted a uniformed dwarf with
strawberry-blond hair and beard doing his rounds and
swaggering in her direction.
"Excuse me, Colonel," she began.
The dwarf blushed under his beard. "I'm just a cap-
tain, ma'am." He eyed Gisella appreciatively.
"Isn't that wonderful. I was wondering if you have
any idea where the gnome who owns this carousel
lives?" She sidled up to him, and he blushed again.
"Not officially, no, ma'am, I wouldn't," he said. "I
know of a tower in the mountains to the east, but I
don't know who owns it. You could try the festival of-
ficials, but their office is closed until after Oktober-
fest."
"Well, someone must know who he is!" she ex-
ploded.
"I'm sure someone does," the officer said, "but the
records are locked up for the next three days."
"One of his creatures just flew off to the east with
my friends, and I have to sit for three days waiting to
find out where he lives?" Gisella's face was red with
fury.
"I'm afraid so, ma'am," the officer said apologeti-
cally
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