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. The sides looked gravelly and crumbly - impossible
to climb, Flint concluded. The vertical sides angled slightly,
forming a rough chute.
The derro guards were arrayed in a semicircle around the
Aghar and Flint. Perian stood several paces away. Flint got
the distinct feeling that she was waiting for something.
Before long they heard the sound of another approach,
though it could hardly be called a march. A footfall was fol-
lowed by a scraping sound. This pattern was repeated, over
and over. Finally, Flint saw why.
The dwarf who entered the cavern was the most repulsive
example of the derro race Flint had ever seen. This gro-
tesqueness came from far more than the derro's distorted
posture, or his thin lips seemingly fixed in a permanent,
cruel sneer. It was more than the straggly beard or thin, oily
hair.
It was the eyes.
Those horrid orbs locked onto Flint, opened wide in a
white stare of almost insectlike detachment. But when they
flashed with hatred, their intensity blasted Flint like air
across a furnace.
"You are the hill dwarf," the creature spat, the last two
words sounding like a curse
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