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Trembling with dread, Drule crept up behind him,
raised her rat-bashing stick, and brought it down on the
back of the man's head as hard as she could.
"Owl" the man said. His hand went to his head. "What
th' - " He reached for his sword.
The Lady Drule tried to run, but tripped over her own
feet and fell.
The raider guard spied her, spat. "Gully dwarf!" He
grasped the hilt of his sword . . . then raised his eyes to see
the last sight of his life - a massive club descending on his
skull.
The Lady Drule got her feet under her, started to run
again, then saw the squashed body of the man sprawled
across the rock. Krog stood to one side, disinterestedly
gazing out over the fire-lit camp.
"Wow!" Drule breathed. Raising her rat-stick, she stared
at it in amazement. "Pretty good bash!"
Quietly, then, she crept toward the pen, bright eyes
looking for other Talls to bash. Somewhere nearby, a
rumbling whisper said, "Ones with weapons first,D Mama."
That, she realized, made pretty good sense. She
wondered how Krog came to know such sound strategy. At
the bottom of the slope, she began to circle the slave pen.
The gully dwarves were all crowded into one comer of the
wooden cage enclosure, spumed by the humans inside.
As Drule neared that comer, a voice whispered, "There
Lady Drule! Hi there, Lady Drule." Another voice
whispered, "Highbulp! Wake up! Lady Drule here . . .
Highbulp? Highbulp sleepy oaf. Wake up, Highbulp!"
Drule said, "Sh!" and went on. Behind her, a giant
shadow moved, but those inside were too busy watching her
to notice it
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