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Satisfied, Glenshadow climbed again until he came to
a high place where patches of ice lay like white pools in
the weathered stone.
He gazed into a small ice-covered pool. "Master of the
tower," Glenshadow said in a voice as cold as winter's
winds, "Grallen's descendant has the Spellbinder, and
has begun his search for the helm. Is there word of the
outlaw?"
"The Black One lives," said the ice-image that formed
on the frozen pool. "Though he was certainly put to
death long ago, there is no doubt now that he lives. His
magic is known. Other searchers have tasted it, just in re-
cent days."
"Can you tell me where he is, then, or must I continue
to follow the dwarf?"
"He is somewhere to the east," the hooded image said.
"Nearer to you than you are to me, but though his magic
is sensed he goes hidden... shielded somehow from our
seekings. If you would find him, you must go with the
dwarf."
"Does the outlaw know yet of the dwarf and his
quest?"
"We think he knows that something is amiss." The ice-
image told him. "The Black One is pledged to a quest
against the dwarven realm of Thorbardin. This much we
know, from those of our order in the Khalkist Moun-
tains. Two died and a third was horribly burned just to
bring us the information. Tell me, does the dwarf know
his purpose?"
"To go where the Hylar Grallen went
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