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"Tell them that no matter how grateful the women are, it
won't matter to us!" said Sturm, swallowing and trying in
vain to inch backward. The spear fol lowed him. "We're
going to be knights! We've taken vows of celibacy. . . ."
"It's ... uh ... not the women, lad," muttered a shamefaced
Dougan, entering the hut and thrusting his head in between
the warriors. "It's ... uh ... a matter of honor ... so to speak.
The truth of it is, lads," the dwarf continued with a heart-
rending sigh, "I got into a wee bit of a game last night."
"So?" grunted Tanin. "What has that got to do with us?"
"I'll explain," Dougan began, licking his lips, his eyes
darting from one to the other of the brothers. "I threw the
bones well the first hour or two. Won the chief's feather
head-dress AND two cows. I was going to quit then, I swear
it, but the old boy was upset, and so what could I do but let
him try to win them back? My luck was going that good, I
bet it all on one toss, plus threw in my axe and my own hat
as well."
Tanin looked at the dwarf's bare head. "You lost."
Dougan's shoulders slumped. "I didn't miss the other so
much, but I couldn't do without my hat, now could I? So I
bet all my money against the hat and - " He looked at Tanin
wistfully
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