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. Suddenly every
gully dwarf within ten feet launched himself into the air and
onto Flint's back and head, hugging him, squeezing his arms
and cheeks as he was crushed to the floor. Someone poked
him in his black eye, but the right side of his face was
pressed into the cold stone floor and he couldn't even move
his mouth to swear at the perpetrator.
"What is going on here?" Perian screamed over the din.
Though she had not been knocked to the ground, ten gully
dwarves clung to her legs and arms.
The Aghar atop Flint rolled off into a mound of wiggling,
flailing limbs, as the hill dwarf struggled to his feet, shaking
his head. His face was hot with anger, and he swung about
in a wide circle, his fists raised and ready.
"King and queen must stay in Mudhole!" Nomscul an-
nounced, standing on top one of the tables to be seen. "The
property say so!"
"Pro-per-ty! Pro-per-ty! Pro-per-ty!" The gully dwarves
chanted, dancing and whooping and gibbering around their
stunned dwarven visitors.
"What are you talking about?" Perian demanded. "What
'property?' "
That all-too-familiar puzzled look crossed Nomscul's face
again
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