The child had decided to take the babbling Duergar under his wing. He seemed really proud of it too, as if he had achieved some greater goal.
But this rambling basketcase concerned me, not only because of its traitorous nature. It did not let on much, seemingly because it lacked the ability to do so. Yet its words kept coming back to the Master. It seemed keen on returning to the Master's mansion with us. Why? What connection did this misbegotten thing have to the Master?
Among the few words it did speak, was one that disturbed me deeply. "Brother" it called, seemingly at me.
How dare it. How DARE it. After all that the Duergar have done to my family, my clan, my people. It would disgust me to even call this creature a dwarf, let alone my "brother".
I would not have it, but the others backed the child. Fools. This misbegotten thing would cause us naught but trouble.
But even I could not deny, for whatever mysterious reason, the Master had entrusted it with the safekeeping of a spellbook. Quite a powerful spellbook at that.
"Fine."
I shall not lift a finger in aid to this thing. But if the others must take it in, out of respect for the Master, I will not end its miserable life. Yet.
Even as I write in my journal, I cringe at the thought of having this misbegotten thing sleeping under the same roof. I hope it does not come slit our throats in the night.
Another grudge for the book. I will not sleep well this night.