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. Each held a shiny steel-bladed battle-axe casu-
ally in his hands.
"Since when do derro claim rights over Hillhome's pass?"
Flint was not the least bit frightened. He watched the armed
guards, whose eyes were focused on the axe hanging from
Flint's belt. The two derro wore dark metal breastplates and
heavy leather gauntlets. They carried themselves with the
cocksure attitude of veteran warriors. The driver, who was
unarmed and unarmored, held the reins and watched.
"You hill dwarves know the agreement," the driver
growled deep in his throat. "Now get back to the village be-
fore we are forced to report you as a spy... or worse," he
added. The guards took a step toward Flint, gripping their
weapons with purpose.
"Spy!" sputtered Flint, almost amused, and yet his hand
moved to his axe. "Great Reorx, why would I be doing that?
Speak up, dwarf!"
The horses pranced impatiently on the Passroad, snorting
misty breath into the chilly night air. The driver stilled them
with a jerk on the reins, then clenched his fists at Flint. "I'm
warning you - get out of the way and go back to the vil-
lage," the driver hissed
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