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Afraid to get too far behind, Phineas struggled to his feet
and forced himself to continue upward. Holding the
torch aloft, he thought he could see a ceiling at last.
Abruptly, the stairway emptied out into a chamber
that was slightly larger than the one far below. There the
human found Damaris and Trapspringer running to and
fro in the sumptuously appointed room.
Phineas frowned. Wasn't it odd that this place, so ob-
viously visited by light-fingered kender for centuries,
still had any furnishings at all? He placed his torch in a
sconce on a wall and looked about the room. One thing
quickly caught his attention.
The human stared, open-mouthed, at the large,
wooden, intricately carved desk against the wall to the
right of the stairs. Behind it was a stuffed leather chair
with a wooden carving of a dragon's head on its high
back. On the desk's blotter was a quill and a dried-up
bottle of ink, a pair of spectacles, and a wine glass, all
covered with an inch of dust.
He looked in admiration at the leather-bound volumes
that circled the room. They were all dust-covered, too,
but undamaged. Twisting his head to read the spines, he
spotted one called "Herbal Medicine," which sounded in-
teresting. He took it down and slipped it under his arm.
Damaris and Trapspringer both were busy tapping
here and there in search of hidden drawers, which they
hoped might hold gems or other interesting items.
Suddenly, Trapspringer snapped his fingers. "Some-
thing about this place looked familiar, and now I remem-
ber what it is
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