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. "Will you
help me or not?"
Phineas was still confused. "You want me to get this bone back
from the council?" he asked stupidly.
"Oh, no, that wouldn't be possible," the kender said firmly.
"What I really need is another minotaur finger bone."
Phineas rubbed his face wearily and plopped down on his padded
stool. He'd lived around kender long enough to know there was going to
be no easy way out of this conversation. "You want me to give you a
minotaur bone," he repeated dully.
"From a finger. I would be most grateful," Trapspringer said,
holding out his hand expectantly. "You see, my old one was my good
luck charm, and I'm certain something dreadful will happen to me
unless I replace it soon."
"You're afraid you'll die without it?" Phineas asked.
"Perhaps, though that's not the most dreadful thing that could
happen. Actually, it might be interesting, depending on how you, you
know, died. Getting run over by a farmer's cart wouldn't be nearly as
fascinat ing as, say, falling off a cliff into the mouth of a lion
who's on fire. Now that would be interesting!" His eyes glowed at the
concept. "Just the same, I don't want to take any chances."
Phineas gave the eccentric kender an odd look. "But I'm not an
animal doctor, or even an apothecary. What makes you think I'd have
such a thing?"
"Well, to be honest, you weren't my first choice. I couldn't
find anything that looked like my bone in those places --" he pulled a
wad of string, four pointy teeth, and a small vial with blue liquid
from inside his cape -- "though I found some other things I've been
needing
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