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. For this reason, many magicians did not take the Test.
After all, it gave no additional power. It added no spells to the
spellbook. One could practice magic quite well without it, and
many did so. But they were not considered "true" magic-users by
their peers, and they knew it. The Test gave a mage an aura that
surrounded him. When entering the presence of others, this aura
was deeply felt by all and, therefore, commanded respect.
Raistlin hungered for that respect. But did he hunger for it
enough to be willing to die trying to obtain it?
"There it is!" Caramon interrupted his thoughts, reining his
horse in sharply.
"The fabled Towers of High Sorcery," Raistlin said, staring in
awe.
The three tall stone towers resembled skeletal fingers, clawing
out of the grave.
"We could turn back now," Caramon croaked, his voice
breaking.
Raistlin looked at his brother in astonishment. For the first time
since he could remember, Raistlin saw fear in Caramon. The
young conjurer felt an unusual sensation-a warmth spread over
him. He reached out and put a steady hand on his brother's
trembling arm. "Do not be afraid, Caramon," Raistlin said, "I am
with you."
Caramon looked at Raistlin, then laughed nervously to himself.
He urged his horse forward.
The two entered the Towers. Vast stone walls and darkness
swallowed them up, then they heard the voice: "Approach."
The two walked ahead. Raistlin walked steadfastly, but
Caramon moved warily, his hand on the hilt of his sword
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