. Tasslehoff sprang
from one to the next like a bee between flowers. He
stopped momentarily by a long, low amber jar with a
wide mouth cocked up at an angle.
"Go ahead, try it on for size," Bozdil encouraged the
kender.
Nodding happily, Tasslehoff hitched up his vest,
leaned over sideways, and slipped a foot into the mouth
of the jar. He was in to his hips when his feet scraped the
bottom.
"I'd have to lie down to fit in here, and I don't think I'd
like lying down forever," he said, looking about for an-
other jar to sample.
"No, no," Bozdil said agreeably. "I'm not sure amber is
your color, anyway."
Tas buzzed around the room and located some taller
jars. He slid into and out of all shapes and sizes. He elimi-
nated the fishbowl shape quickly; he was afraid he
would slop from side to side in it, which was not the im-
pression he wanted to give of kender. He liked the ele-
gant design of the ginger-jar. Its narrow bottom gently,
curved out toward the top, then closed back up again at
the mouth. But he hated the way it felt on his neck, like
he was suffocating. He discarded the straight, thin style
as too conventional. Besides, sitting down in it would be
impossible, he reasoned.
Weighing the options carefully, he wandered back to a
jar he had considered early on. It was cobalt blue, with
simple but classic lines: sleek yet roomy, from its slightly
flaired mouth to its tantilizingly rounded bottom. This
was a jar a kender could be proud of. Tasslehoff studied
it and tried to picture himself in it