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. If we can actually
find Xak Tsaroth, that is."
Gisella wiped her eyes with the back of her hand in a gesture of
fatigue. "But I can't move another inch tonight. We'll make camp
here," she said, indicating the wide expanse of level slate with a
wave of her hand. "Woodrow, be a dear and get the wagon. My head is
split ting!"
"Yes, Miss Hornslager." The straw-haired young man sprinted
across the ledge to the row of shrubs and disappeared.
One arm hugged tight to her waist, the other supporting her
chin, Gisella looked down at the distant shore. She smirked
mirthlessly and shook her head.
"Isn't it ironic? All that water, and I can't even get to it to
take a bath."
Tasslehoff first heard the noises before dawn.
Curled up by the smoldering remains of the fire across from
Woodrow, he was having the most delightful dream, and he did not want
to wake up before it ended. He was in a merchant's shop, and its walls
were lined from floor to ceiling with jars of all sizes and colors,
each crammed with more interesting objects than the last. There were
jars of stained-glass marbles and pretty stones, jars with balls of
brightly colored string, jars overflowing with confections and wind-up
toys.
There was a whole shelf devoted to jeweled rings, and another
just for ruby-studded brooches.
The owner of the shop, who hadn't been in the dream just a
moment before, turned to Tasslehoff and said, "You must take
everything and hide it, before someone steals it
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