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. Eight dwarves sat on his thrashing
form while Nomscul and a frawl the shaman called Fester
ran circles around the chair with two lengths of thick rope.
"Untie me this minute, you miserable dirt-eaters!" Flint
flung himself from side to side, sending the chair pitching
and making the gully dwarves who clung to him hoot with
glee. But the chair did not break, the Aghar did not lose
their grips, and Flint remained tied up.
Arms behind his back, Nomscul leaned toward Flint and
smiled right into the hill dwarf's scowling face. "Queen not
running away," he said. Perian stood at the far corner of the
room, relatively ignored by the Aghar since she offered no
resistance. Her arms were crossed and her hazel eyes re-
garded Flint expectantly, a small smile about her lips.
"Promise to be king, and we cut you loose," Nomscul of-
fered affably in a singsong voice.
Flint hung his head over the arm of the chair and spat on
the ground. "Me? King of the gully dwarves? I'd sooner
drown!"
Chapter 12
A Cold Domain
Pitrick's twisted foot ailed him mightily; he had been
on it far too long today, without the benefit of numbing
goldroot salve
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