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. There was a brief burst of
applause from the crowd while he readjusted his robe,
planted a peck on Damaris's cheek, and cleared his
throat nervously.
"People of Kendermore," he intoned, "as your mayor, I
think it behooves us to listen to what this young wan-
derer has to say, no matter how shabbily he treated my
daughter. If he thinks he has a plan, let's hear it. And if it
turns out he doesn't have a plan, we can always skedad-
dle afterward. After all, 'there's no danger so pressing
that it couldn't be worse', as they say." With that, he
turned to Tas and folded his arms.
No sooner had Tasslehoff outlined his plan than the
tiny assembly fell to putting it into effect. Several crates
were piled up for Tas to stand on so he could oversee
progress and be heard by everyone.
"Uncle Trapspringer and Damaris and Mayor
Metwinger," he ordered, "go round up more help. We
can't do this with two dozen people.
"Woodrow and Vinsint, take two-thirds of the kender
already assembled and start pushing all that debris from
the tornado's wake up against those buildings on the far
side.
"Is there anybody here who knows lumber?" A dozen
fingers pointed to a kender in the crowd who was staring
intently at Tasslehoff. "Are you a carpenter?" asked Tas.
The kender stared.
"Do you run a sawmill?"
No response.
What's the matter with him?"
A small girl stretched up and plucked a wad of paraffin
from the older kender's ear. "He wants to know if you're
a carpenter or a woodcutter, Papa," she chimed.
The kender beamed
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