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. Following his gaze, Caramon saw the figure throw
back its rune-covered hood to reveal a familiar face-an elven
face.
"Greetings, Caramon Majere."
"Dalamar," returned Caramon steadily with a nod of his head,
though the grip of memory tightened a bit at the sight of the black-
robed wizard. Dalamar looked no different than he had years
ago-wiser, perhaps, calmer and cooler. Ninety years of age, he
had been just an apprentice magic-user, considered little more than
a hot-blooded youth as far as the elves were concerned. Twenty-
five years mattered no more to the long-lived elves than the
passing of a day and night. Now well over one hundred, his cold,
handsome face appeared no older than a human of thirty.
'The years have dealt kindly with you, Caramon," Justarius
continued. "The Inn of the Last Home, which you now own, is one
of the most prosperous in Krynn. You are a hero-you and your
lady-wife both. Tika Majere is well and undoubtedly as beautiful
as ever?"
"More," Caramon replied huskily.
Justarius smiled. "You have five children, two daughters and
three sons-"
A sliver of fear pricked Caramon's contentment. No, he said to
himself inwardly, they have no power over me now. He settled
himself more solidly in his chair, like a soldier digging in for
battle.
"Your two eldest sons, Tanin and Sturm, are soldiers of
renown"-Justarius spoke in a bland voice, as though chatting
with a neighbor over the fence
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