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The Heirs of Cenpa by Sandra McDonald He left Cenpa in the dark hours of the morning and found himself in a parking lot somewhere on Earth. Vince didn't like parking lots. They sealed in the fertile earth, diverted precious drinking water and accumulated nothing but trash. Dishonorable things happened in parking lots: drug sales, rapes, murders and, of course, his specialty, kidnappings. Rescues , he reminded himself. The parking lot belonged to a concrete and glass hotel set back from a highway by a line of scraggly trees. Vince didn’t think much of Earth hotels, either. He preferred the sturdy inns back home, where a man could down fresh-brewed ale with dinner and trade bits of gossip with other travelers. The beer in Earth hotels tasted bad, and guests rarely talked to one another. The hotel sign was written in English, which cheered him a little. He hoped the stones had taken him to America, because in America--A pair of headlights blinded him. For a moment he was back in the Gray Room, inhaling the sour stink of bleach, oatmeal and soiled underwear. Scuffed linoleum stretched out like a sea beneath his feet. The sea separated him from the hallway, the staff and the locked cabinet where the Stones of Cenpa lay quietly calling to him. Only with their help could he return to his quest--Vince squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, the passing car had vanished and he was alone
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