"Many times," Clotnik cheerfully conceded, his eyes flashing green in the candlelight. "I have often been cut down to size. You know," he added with a mischievous grin, "I used to be much taller."

"Besides free drinks," asked Tanis, narrowing his eyes, "what is it that you want?"

"Want?"

"He hears well, Otik, don't you think?"

The innkeeper nodded, his eyes drawn again to the whirling balls that Clotnik now juggled in yet another pattern, this time using his right hand to juggle three in a circle and his left hand to juggle the other two in the traditional up and down method.

"I'd like to travel with you," Clotnik said guardedly.

Tanis laughed shortly. "Even though you don't know where we'd be going?"

"I didn't say I didn't know where you were going," Clotnik corrected. "I said you didn't know."

Tanis cocked his head to one side and considered the juggler.

Clotnik began tossing the balls high into the air from behind his back, each ball nearly touching the ceiling of the inn as he juggled all five in a huge ellipse.

'Tour father must be very proud of you!" said Otik suddenly, overcome by the juggler's performance.

At those words, Clotnik's head whipped around to look at the innkeeper. And in that instant, the juggler lost his concentration. He tried to recover, but it was too late. The iron and brass balls thudded to the floor, one just missing Otik's foot. Clotnik managed to grab the gold and the silver spheres, and then he lunged for the swiftly falling, fragile glass ball. Unfortunately, it had sailed out of his reach. "No!" he cried.