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. In the end,
it amounted to the same thing. "I'm not sure, let me look." Phineas
reached into his pocket and pulled out its contents: two steel pieces
and a pocket knife. Sighing, he placed them in the guard's
outstretched palm anyway. "Sorry, no candy. Now, what does it depend
on?"
"Huh?" the guard said, his attention riveted by the
spring-action latch on Phineas's knife. "Oh, where he'd be at depends
on what he did and who he did it to. "What's his name?"
"I believe his name is Trapspringer Furrfoot, but I don't know
what he did to get thrown in prison."
The kender looked at him. "You're not sure where you're going or
who you're going to see, and you don't know what he did."
Phineas felt stupid and annoyed at the same time. The only thing
Trapspringer had said, other than that he was in prison, was that his
nephew was going to marry the mayor's daughter. Phineas brightened. "I
think it may have something to do with the mayor."
"Considering how little you know, you're lucky I'm around to
help you sort through this," said the guard, puffing up his chest,
straining the buttons to the bursting point. "Today is Audience Day,
so Mayor -- let's see, it's Metwinger this month, isn't it? I'm not
sure, since I'm just sitting in for my brother today. Our honored
mayor is holding Audience on the third floor. If you hurry, perhaps
you'll be allowed to address him." With that, the kender wandered back
outside City Hall, Phineas's knife in his small hands, Phineas's coins
jingling in his pocket
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