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."
He resumed pacing, his hands behind his uniformed back.
"And then there's Garth... he heard the description and
began jabbering some nonsense about Aylmar being back
from the dead to give him bad dreams. Fortunately, the der-
ro don't pay much attention to the village idiot, but there's
some folk who know that he's got you all confused with our
late eldest brother!"
"Tybalt! I won't have you calling that poor harrn such
things in this house," Bertina scolded him. "Garth is per-
fectly pleasant. He just got caught between the hammer and
the anvil once too often, is all," she finished softly.
"Bertina, who cares about Garth?" Tybalt shouted. "Flint
murdered a derro in the wagon yard!"
"Aren't you convicting me without even asking if I did
it?" asked Flint.
"Well, did you?" a hesitant Tybalt demanded.
"Would it matter?" Flint asked cagily.
"Of course it would!" Tybalt sank into a chair and tugged
at his beard in agitation. "Don't you see the position you're
putting me in - and me with my promotion coming up! I
should hand you over to Mayor Holden. I should, and I just
might!"
Flint looked at him squarely
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