The messenger was a dwarf-sized silhouette holding a crystal lantern. “What by Death is going on? Why have you woken me?” “There’s been some sort of . . . of . . . accident, sir. At the mine. The beastmaster ordered me to wake you.” Sarbeneck swung his legs over the edge of his cot and rubbed his eyes. “What sort of accident are you talking about?” “Well, um —” “Come on, out with it!” Sarbeneck stood, wrapping his robe around him. “Now that you’ve gone to the trouble of getting me out of bed, you might as well tell me what happened.” “Well, sir. Some of the rock people tried to stop the mining; they got into a sort of a fight with Nancri. The orks are coming with a few of the rock folk. It’s best if they tell you.” “What is your name?” “Theo, sir.” “Theo what?” “Ranghorn, sir. Theo Ranghorn, sir. I’m just an ore purifier. I don’t know nothing about rock people and fighting and such. Just an ore purifier.” “Right, Theo. Well you can leave now.
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