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. "I've heard a lot about you, Flint. I'm a...
um, friend of your nephew, Basalt." She blushed.
Flint slapped his thigh. "That's why you looked familiar!
Haven't you two been friends since you were both in nap-
pies?" He winked and gave her an approving glance under
raised eyebrows. "Although you've grown up some since
then."
She smiled and blushed again, lowering her eyes. "I wish
Basalt would take notice," she began, but her smile faded.
"Of course he's not aware of much else but drink these days,
though, what with the tragedy and all." She reached out gin-
gerly and squeezed his arm sympathetically.
"Tragedy?" Flint's mug of ale froze halfway to his mouth.
His eyes traveled from the frawl's blue eyes to the innkeep-
er's rheumy ones and back.
Suddenly the sound of shattering glass rent the air. Star-
tled, Flint turned toward the left end of the bar, where he
saw the harrn who had held the door for Hildy. This same
dwarf was staring at Flint, his face a mask of terror.
The dwarf seemed stupefied, and he began gesturing
wildly at Flint. Flint was stunned.
"You're dead! Go away! Leave me alone! You're d-d - !"
The screaming dwarf struggled to get the last of the word
out, then finally quit in frustration
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