A clatter made both glance to the right. From a metal grate leading to an old ventilation shaft emerged a
smaller goblin. Nimbly, the tiny figure pulled itself through the opening and rushed over to Kryll. The
newcomer wore a fiendishly amused look on his ugly face, a look that quickly faded under Prestor's
intense gaze.
The second goblin whispered something into Kryll's large, pointed ear. Kryll hissed, then dismissed the
other creature with a negligent wave of the hand. The newcomer vanished back through the open grate.
“What is it?” Although the words came calmly and smoothly from the lips of the aristocrat, they also
clearly demanded no hesitation on the part of the goblin to answer.
“Aaah, gracious one,” Kryll began, the madcap smile once more upon his bestial face. “Luck is with you
this day, it seems! Perhaps you should consider making a wager somewhere? The stars must truly
favor—”
“What is it?”
“Someone . . . someone is attempting to free Alexstrasza. . . .”
Prestor stared. He stared so long and with such intensity that Kryll fairly shriveled up before him. Surely
now, the goblin imagined, surely now death would come. A pity that. There had been so many more
experiments he had wanted to try, so many more explosives to test . . .
At that moment, the tall, black figure before him broke out laughing, a laugh deep, dark, and not entirely
natural.
“Perfect . . .” Lord Prestor managed to utter between bouts of mirth. He stretched his arms out as if
seeking to capture the very air. His fingers seemed impossibly long and almost clawed. “So perfect!”
He continued to laugh and, as he did, the goblin Kryll settled back, marveling at the odd sight and
shaking his head ever so slightly.
“And they callmemad,” he muttered under his breath.
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