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"You are an interesting case, and vaguely familiar," mused
Pitrick. "Such a ferocious assault had to be triggered by
something more than the death of one gully dwarf. Who are
you? Have we met before?"
Flint spat through his swollen lips, then croaked, "You
killed my brother, you maggot meat."
"Your brother..." mused Pitrick. "But I'm sure I've killed
so many brothers - and sisters, too. Can't you be more spe-
cific?" Pitrick asked.
"Given your busy schedule, how many hill dwarf smiths
have you struck down with magic lately?" Flint growled bit-
terly.
"The smith!" Pitrick's face spread in an evil grin of recog-
nition. "How delightful! Yes, I can see your resemblance to
that smith now. But you must understand, the hill dwarf
was a spy. He poked into places where he didn't belong. I
did the only thing I could. And I was quite pleased with the
effect - you should be happy to hear that he became very
colorful toward the end, though the smell was unpleasant."
"Murdering animal!" choked Flint, twisting helplessly be-
tween two guards. Gradually his wits were returning,
though he still had trouble seeing
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