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. "I wouldn't give you a
bucket of spit!"
"Lucky for me, I'm not asking for one," Denzil said.
He grabbed the kender by the neck of his tunic, lifted
him off the ground, then rummaged around in Tas's
vest until he found what he wanted. Letting his mouth
crack slightly with an expression that was half grim-
ace, half smile, he held a roll of parchment up victori-
ously. Denzil dropped the kender absently and turned
away.
Kneeling on the ground, he unrolled the maps and
regarded them in a stream of light with the tender gaze
of a lover. After scouring the top one with his eyes, he
grunted angrily, then viciously threw the map over his
shoulder. He repeated the scene with each of some six
maps, rose to his feet, then scowled darkly. Turning to
find the kender, he nearly tripped over Tasslehoff,
who had been spying over the human's shoulder.
"Where is it?!" Denzil stormed, reaching for the ken-
der's throat.
Tasslehoff backpedaled quickly. Even he was a bit
alarmed by the murder in the human's eyes. "Where's
what? I'm sure there's a useful map in there some-
where. Are you having trouble reading them? You
needn't be embarrassed. I could read them for you --"
Denzil closed the gap between Tas, and his black-
gloved fingers tightened around the kender's throat.
"Of course you don't need any help reading them,"
gurgled Tasslehoff.
"Don't jerk me around, ken-dirt," Denzil growled. "I
want the other half of a map that covers the territory
east of Kendermore."
"Withh twwr -- ?" Denzil loosened his hold on the
purple-faced kender somewhat
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