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. And the
Daewar brothers, Hasp and Hoven Fire --" He paused
again and glanced at the sleeping Jilian. "Firestoke. They
were of her family. I wonder if she knows that my family
and hers once were... no," Chane shook his head. "She
couldn't have known that. Or about me, because she
wasn't born then. Even her father's father wasn't born
then. Odd, isn't it?"
Wingover squatted on his heels, staring at the dwarf,
astonished.
"We were here," Chane sighed. "Then we went from
here, across a stone bridge and onto the steppes of
Dergoth, where our armies waited for us... and their
armies, too. And we fought. Were we in the right? I
didn't even wonder, then. My father had set our course,
and we fought. I led my troops; I can still hear their
shouts when we charged. 'On Grallen,' they shouted.
'For Thorbardin!' You see, human? In my dream I was
Grallen, on the field at Zhaman. Why are you staring at
me like that?"
"The spot on your forehead," Wingover pointed. "It
glows."
"It has done that before." Chane looked up at the red
moon Lunitari. "At least now I know exactly why I wear
it."
"But... it glows like red crystal. Like Spellbinder it-
self."
"In the dream I wore its other self, just here," he
touched the glowing circle between his brows. "But on
my helm, embedded just above the noseguard. They said
it glowed too, when I... when Grallen wore it. But not
red. Pathfinder is green. The trace I follow is where Path-
finder went
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