conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What could be a title for a book about Gowdlands, Pure, Light with the genre: Science Fiction & Fantasy, Fantasy?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this book could be 'Kingdoms of Light'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the first five paragraphs for this book. Start with the sentence 'Kingdoms of Light
  She sniffed grudgingly, whiskers bobbing'.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Kingdoms of Light
  She sniffed grudgingly, whiskers bobbing. "Then we'd best gather him up and be about our business, before he takes off after some flying scrap of paper or loose piece of string and we have to waste time running him down."
  They found Smegden cloistered with a cluster of chipmunks, squirrels, and tree rats. Demonstrating that human hands were not required to carry out higher manipulative functions, they were playing a complicated board game with leaves substituting for squares and different-shaped seeds for markers. Those onlookers not actively engaged in play chattered incessantly—which, considering the characteristic speciation of those present, was to be expected.
  As he moved a small oblong seed three leaves forward and one sideways, the aggravated mouse caught sight of his former charges. "Botheration!" he snapped. "Now what? Didn't you get any sleep?"
  Shaking his head sadly, Smegden turned his portion of the game over to the chipmunk squatting next to him and hopped over to confront his tormentors. "Babysitter to cats and dogs," he muttered irritably. "Snakes and canary birds." He sighed. "Maybe after one quick tour you'll be ready to settle down. And to leave me alone!"
  For all his confirmed irritability, the acerbic Smegden proved to be as congenial a guide during the day as he had been the previous night. He showed them the Council Hall, afire with purple gems, where the Chosen of Faerie and other enchanted electors met to discuss matters of importance affecting the entire kingdom. They visited the stablelands, home to cloven-footed animal folk, where giraffes raced griffins and antelope streaked with makeup competed in high jumping against gravel-voiced jackaroos. There were well-organized facilities for storing food and water against the rare times of drought, schools where lectures in the fine art of thud-dunning were attended by gangs of aspiring adolescent ogres and trolls, and high-speed flying academies for the effervescent offspring of pixies and sprites, where pedantic dragonflies served as instructors.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: four more paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Apprehensive but game, Cocoa eyed the familiar. "There's no use in putting it off, Taj. What do we do now?"
  This morning, the songster looked older than his years. Try as he might, he could not escape the feeling that the ultimate responsibility for the success or failure of what they were about to attempt was his. With a deep sigh, he extended a hand to Samm.
  The giant passed it over. Taj held it lightly in his open palm. It was warm, but not unpleasantly so, and weighed, according to his best estimate, less than nothing.
  The songster smiled at him. "Did you think the Master set you all on this quest to keep me company? Just as we were all part and parcel of his life, so, too, are we parcel and part of his magic, even though he has gone from us. For an enchantment this profound to work, it requires input from every one of us."
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Swap the first and the last sentence.
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: ". "There's no use in putting it off, Taj. What do we do now?"
  This morning, the songster looked older than his years. Try as he might, he could not escape the feeling that the ultimate responsibility for the success or failure of what they were about to attempt was his. With a deep sigh, he extended a hand to Samm.
  The giant passed it over. Taj held it lightly in his open palm. It was warm, but not unpleasantly so, and weighed, according to his best estimate, less than nothing.
  The songster smiled at him. "Did you think the Master set you all on this quest to keep me company? Just as we were all part and parcel of his life, so, too, are we parcel and part of his magic, even though he has gone from us. For an enchantment this profound to work, it requires input from every one of us.Apprehensive but game, Cocoa eyed the familiar.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the last three paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: The firebird nodded sagely. When it did, flecks of flame fell like shorn whiskers from the underside of its blazing beak. "That should do me well enough. Speaking of doing, what are we to do with ourselves, now that we have carried out the Master's wishes and restored color to the Gowdlands?"
  It was a striking ballad of joy and triumph that she sang, one famous among cats. Cezer and Cocoa joined in. So did Samm, hissing euphoniously, his metronomically weaving head keeping time to the music. Taj, of course, had no difficulty participating, individual bursts of fire bursting forth from his throat as he warbled sonorously, singing fireworks as well as harmony, a veritable symphony of light and sound unto himself.
  It was only when Oskar joined in, throwing back his head and letting out a piercing, crockery-rattling howl, that the others hastily ceased their chanting. The wolf-dog had always been able to carry many things, but a tune was not among them.