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. BLOOD
STIRRED YOU; MURDER FED YOU; WAR
MULTIPLIED YOU. IN SOME AUTUMN SUNSETS, THE
SKY WOULD DARKEN EARLY WITH YOUR NUMBERS,
AND THE BEATING OF YOUR WINGS WAS LIKE THE
ROAR OF BATTLE AS YOU SWEPT DOWN ON
VILLAGE AFTER VILLAGE.
Her tone changed. LATER THERE WAS . . . ONE WHO
KNEW MAGIC, THOUGH NOT AS I KNEW IT. I SHALL
NOT NAME THAT NAME HERE. YOU AND YOURS
WERE PUT TO SLEEP, WITHOUT FOOD, THROUGH
THE CENTURIES. MOST DIED. YOU ARE ONE OF THE
LAST.
A FEW YEARS AGO, A FOOLISH PEDDLER DUG
YOU UP AND CARRIED YOU FAR SOUTH, HOPING
TO TRADE YOU AS A RELIC FROM SOME PRE-
CATACLYSM WAR. THAT WAS WELL, AND WAS MY
BIDDING. BUT HE SOLD YOU TO A DWARF, A
LUMPISH, SICKLY BRUTE WHO DOES NOT DO MY
BIDDING.
In the cold body, the dagger shivered at her voice.
When the lady - she must be at least that - commanded,
one did her bidding and hoped to live. Its little mind could
not imagine disobedience, or its consequences.
Now I BID YOU, PET. THE DWARF MUST DIE -
PARTLY TO FEED YOU, PARTLY FOR DISOBEYING,
AND PARTLY, she added indifferently, BECAUSE HE
AIDS ONE WHO WOULD BE MY ENEMY, IF HE BUT
HAD THE POWER. THAT IS REASON ENOUGH FOR
THE DWARF'S DEATH, IF I NEEDED REASONS.
BUT IT WAS ANOTHER WHO STABBED YOU INTO
THE GOBLIN, WHO WIELDED YOU JUST NOW; I BID
YOU TO KILL HIM, TOO - HE AND THE DWARF -
BECAUSE I ASK IT
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