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They watched the ship for several minutes. Denzil em-
erged from belowdecks leading his monstrous night-
mare. He led the huge, black animal down the gangplank
and across the wharf. The crowd parted before him, peo-
ple edging away from the snorting, red-eyed nightmare.
Still within view of the ship, Denzil strode directly past
Woodrow and Tasslehoff, ignoring them, and continued
into the town.
"What do you suppose he's up to?" murmured Wood-
row, tearing a fingernail to the skin with his teeth.
"Maybe he just doesn't care about us," Tasslehoff said,
though he didn't sound convinced himself. "Maybe what
happened outside the gnomes' castle had nothing to do
with us personally. He doesn't seem interested in us at all
anymore."
"Maybe you're right," Woodrow agreed warily.
"Let's follow him anyway," suggested Tas. "Maybe we
can get something to eat while we're at it."
Tas led the way down the street, trailing Denzil. Before
long, however, the kender was absorbed in the sights,
smells, and sounds of the bustling seaport. Strange lan-
guages, exotic dress, people with unusual features and
tattoos, and dozens of merchants all trying to sell him
something (or keep him away from their stalls) proved
too distracting for the irrepressible kender. By the time
they left the second market square, Tas no longer knew
where Denzil was, nor was he very concerned.
Instead, Tas paused to buy some smoked fish, admired
the merchandise in a map seller's booth, and was chased
away by a silversmith after the merchant caught him
making funny faces in the side of a teapot
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