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. Caramon wasn't fooled, however,
and kept his eyes closely on the wizard-"bidding fair to outdo
their famous father and mother in deeds of valor on the field. But
the third, the middle child, whose name is . . ." Justarius hesitated.
"Palm," said Caramon, his brows lowering into a frown.
Glancing at Dalamar, the big man saw the dark elf watching him
intently with slanted, inscrutable eyes.
"Palm, yes." Justarius paused, then said quietly, "It would seem
he follows in the footsteps of his uncle."
There. It was out. Of course, that's why they had ordered him
here. He had been expecting it, or something like it, for a long time
now. Damn them! Why couldn't they leave him alone! He never
would have come if Palin hadn't insisted. Breathing heavily, Cara-
mon stared at Justarius, trying to read the man's face. He might as
well have been trying to read one of his son's spellbooks.
Justarius, Head of the Conclave of Wizards, the most powerful
magic-user in Krynn. The red-robed wizard sat in the great stone
chair in the center of the semicircle of twenty-one chairs. An
elderly man, his gray hair and lined face were the only outward
signs of aging. The eyes were as shrewd, the body appeared as
strong-except the crippled left leg-as when Cara-mon had first
met the archmage twenty-five years ago.
Caramon's gaze went to the mage's left leg. Hidden beneath the
red robes, the man's injury was noticeable only to those who had
seen him walk
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