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"Of course." She shrugged. "It's just like any other magical
item. Pitrick used it constantly because of his clubbed foot.
He explained it to me once when he was trying to frighten
me. He said all he had to do was grasp the ring and picture as
clearly as possible the place where he wanted to go."
Anyplace he wanted... Flint remembered his thoughts
of Hillhome, moments earlier, and had an idea. He turned to
Basalt. "I can't leave the gully dwarves." He looked squarely
into his nephew's face. "But you can. You could use the ring
to teleport back to Hillhome and give them a couple of extra
days to prepare for the derro attack, or at least gather some
weapons. They'll believe you, Basalt." Flint took the ring
from Perian's hand and thrust it forward. "I know Moldoon
will, anyway, and you can start by telling him. He'll rally
the rest of 'em."
Basalt recoiled from the magical band as if struck. "You
don't understand! I can't tell anyone, least of all Moldoon!"
the young dwarf cried, his face wracked with grief. He
turned away in shame. "He's dead, and it's my fault!"
Flint shook his head uncomprehendingly
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