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. "Is that
not the important thing?" Craning his neck, he looked up at
the general. The masked human turned away silently. His
expression pensive, the dwarf studied the general's straight,
well-armored back.
"I see you wear my present," the general said, though he
looked out over the smoldering city of Sanction. He had
given the little derro the amulet, iron forged into the like-
nesses of five writhing dragon heads, as a token for closing
the weapons shipment arrangements. The general himself
had received it from his Dark Queen, and he half hoped that
Her presence in it would further influence the weaselly ad-
viser to his cause.
"It has proved quite useful already," Pitrick said offhand-
edly, yet he offered no thanks. "But to business. My journey,
though fast, is not without risk," observed the dwarf, ignor-
ing the general's shrug. "Should the other clans of Thor-
bardin gain wind of our transaction, I need not tell you that
your source of arms would vanish."
The general said nothing. The vast horde of men gather-
ing in the valley below would be nothing more than an an-
gry mob until outfitted with weapons
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