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. "So you better have a care, Dougan, and slow
down."
"Slow down! Look who's talking!" The dwarf roared so
loudly that all eyes in the common room turned on them,
including the eyes of the small creatures in the brown
robes. "Why, there isn't a human alive who can outdrink a
dwarf with his own brew!"
Glancing at Sturm, Tanin winked, though he kept his
face solemn. "You've just met two of them, Dougan
Redhammer," he said, leaning back in his chair until it
creaked beneath his weight. "We've drunk many a stout
dwarf under the table and were still sober enough, Sturm
and I, to guide him to his bed."
"And I," returned Dougan, clenching his fist, his face
turning a fiery red beneath the black beard, "have drunk ten
stout humans underneath the table and not only did I lead
them to their beds but I put their night-clothes on them and
tidied up their rooms to boot!"
"You won't do that to us!" vowed Tanin.
"Wanna bet?" roared the dwarf with a slight slur.
"A wager, then?" cried Sturm.
"A wager!" shouted Dougan.
"Name the rules and the stakes!" Tanin said, sitting
forward.
Dougan stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I'll match you
lads one on one, drink for drink - "
"Ha!" Sturm burst out laughing
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