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. "You must have put your feet
in my vest, and somehow your boots fell off." He handed them over,
letting his fingers linger on the shiny buckles near the plush toes.
"They're very nice, even with the flour on them."
"They ought to be," said council member Windorf Wright,
snatching them from Barlo's expectant hands.
"They're mine!" claimed the leader of Kendermore's farmer's
union. Stockier than the average kender, his bright red vest looked
too tight to be comfortable. His head was shaved right up to his
thinning topknot to show his delicately pointed ears to their best
advantage.
"Not until I get those chickens and turnips you promised me for
these boots!" said Feldon Cobblehammer, a blue blur as he leaped
across the meeting table to pluck the coveted boots from Windorf's
hands.
A scuffle broke out on the table, and soon three pairs of boots
were flying. Scrabbling happily among the throng, the mayor found some
pointy animal teeth, sixsided, wooden gaming dice that looked just
like a set he'd been missing, and some tasty-looking sweets. He barely
had them in his pocket before someone grabbed him by the topknot and
conked him soundly on the head with his own gavel. Metwinger sank to
the floor behind the Bench of Authority.
Phineas awoke with a startled snort. Looking around quickly, he
realized that he was the only one in the room not involved in the
brawl, which was rolling like a huge, living ball, toward the door --
and his chair! Standing, he dove to his left, away from the door, and
landed on his stomach between the last two rows of chairs -- a scant
distance from the precipice of the open wall
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