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. He just didn't like me hauling feed for the
derro's horses, that's all." Basalt heaved a huge sigh and
shook his head sadly. "He tracked me down at Moldoon's
that night and started up the old argument again, said the
derro were up to no good and he would prove it. I told him
to stay out of my business, and then I left him at the bar." Ba-
salt's eyes misted over as he looked into the dark distance
again, focusing on nothing in particular.
Basalt's expression turned unexpectedly to puzzlement.
"There's just one thing I don't understand. Dad said he hated
that the village was working with the mountain dwarves,
said he'd never lift a finger to help a derro dying in the
street." Basalt stroked his beard thoughtfully. "So what was
he doing smithing for them the day his heart gave out? Why
that day?" Basalt turned his face to the heavens.
Flint heard his nephew's grief and was wracked with inde-
cision about the secret suspicions he harbored over
Aylmar's death. Basalt's account of the fight with his father
only bolstered his hunch. Could he trust Basalt? He
squeezed his nephew's shoulder
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