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. "I'm sorry if I star-
tled you, but the derro are planning to attack Hillhome and
we have very little time to prepare."
Ruberik scowled with impatience. "Now what nonsense
are you jabbering about?"
"Basalt, you're not making any sense, but I've never seen
you so earnest," said Bertina. "Whatever's got you in this
state, you just take your time and explain it."
Ruberik huffed, "It's obvious what's got him in this state,
and I've humored it as much as I care to. It's time to -"
"Rubie," cut in Bertina, "leave it be. Let him talk."
The nervous hill dwarf smiled gratefully toward his
mother. "I know I haven't been very responsible lately," he
said, ignoring his uncle's snort of agreement, "but I am not
drunk now, nor am I lying." He took a deep breath.
"Dad was killed because he discovered that the plows the
derro are transporting are just a front for massive weapon
shipments to some nation in the north."
"Basalt," his mother moaned, drawing a handkerchief
from her sleeve, "how do you know this?"
"I've been with Uncle Flint. They tried to kill him for
learning the same thing
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