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. A small steel triangle, no bigger than
Phineas's thumbnail, dangled from it. Phineas turned
white.
With his voice trembling, Phineas asked, "Could I see
it? I know a little about such things. I may be able to tell
you where it came from," he lied.
Gelfig looked at the chain, then shrugged and ex-
tended it to the human. "Sure, why not?" Phineas
reached out a shaking hand, snatched the chain, and
immediately wished himself into an enormous, gem-
encrusted castle filled with rich tapestries and beautiful
women and servants to cater to his every whim. When
he opened his eyes, he saw Gelfig still peering at him,
saying, "It doesn't work any more anyway."
Phineas collapsed to the ground near some cotton.
candy bushes, squishing an intricate mosaic made of
cream-filled pastries.
"It doesn't work," he mumbled. Then he glared at
Gelfig. "You used it up! How could you use up the
whole thing? What could you have wanted that was so
important you used up all the magic?"
"Hey, look at this place," Gelfig boasted, sweeping hi
arm to take in the whole panorama. "You think this was
easy? It took a lot of tries to get this just right."
Phineas doubled over and hugged his knees, sobbing
gently. He was surrounded by bloated kender in an un-
believable candyscape. He'd risked everything to get
here, and it was all for nothing. Now he was penniless,
homeless, and hopeless.
It wasn't the first time.
The kender drifted away, absorbed in retelling
Gelfig's famous story and devouring the scenery, get-
ting the latest news of Kendermore from Damaris, who,
from her enthusiastic munching, seemed to be fitting
right into Gelfigburg society
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