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. Doesn't holding
them captive sort of work against that?"
"I don't keep them forever," Vinsint said darkly. "Be-
sides, I think keeping me company is a small price to pay
for being saved from the grove. I get lonely here! I'm al-
ways polite and friendly, and I serve good food."
"I suppose it's important to be polite when you're plug-
ugly," Damaris agreed with a kender's usual alacrity.
Vinsint looked at her ominously. In silence he laid
out dinner, and everyone but Phineas ate with great
enthusiasm.
After dinner, the ogre pushed his tin plate back and
belched loudly. "What shall we do after dinner? Cards?
Dice? Marbles? I have them all."
"Let's play 'Let the prisoners go', " Phineas suggested
under his breath. Trapspringer flashed him a look of
warning.
"You name the game," Vinsint insisted of Trapspringer.
The elder kender glanced uneasily at Phineas. "All
right. Pick-up sticks!"
Vinsint clapped his hands together with a crack that
reverberated in Trapspringer's chest cavity. "I love pick-
up sticks! It's my favorite game!"
The ogre leaped to his feet, knocking over his stool
and rattling the room, then clomped toward a pile of
boxes in a corner. Vinsint pawed through the boxes,
flinging all manner of things to the floor in his haste.
Trapspringer saw manacles, a jeweled necklace, a scroll
case, a chunk of a mildewed saddle, and other things that
he could not identify. When Vinsint stomped back,
clutching an intricately carved ivory tube in his enor-
mous hand, he cleared the dishes from the table with one
swipe of his large hand
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