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. "Why have you
brought me here? To cause my wounds to open and bleed as well
as your own!"
"Gentlemen, please," said Justarius softly. "Dalamar, control
yourself. Caramon, please sit down. Remember, you two owe your
lives to each other. This establishes a bond between you that
should be respected."
The old man's voice penetrated the shouts that still echoed in
the vast chamber, its cool authority silencing Caramon and
calming Dalamar. Clasping his torn robes together, the dark elf
resumed his seat next to Justarius.
Caramon, too, sat down, ashamed and chagrined. He had sworn
he would not let this happen, these people would have no power to
shake him. And already he'd lost control. Trying to assume a
relaxed expression, he leaned back in the chair. But his hand
clenched over the hilt of his sword.
"Forgive Dalamar," Justarius said, his hand once again on the
dark elf's arm. "He spoke in haste and anger. You are right,
Caramon. Your son, Palin, IS a good man-I think we must say
MAN and not BOY. He is, after all, twenty-"
"Just turned twenty," Caramon muttered, eyeing Justarius
warily.
The red-robed archmage waved it aside. "And he is, as you say,
different from Raistlin. How not? He is his own person, after all.
Born to different parents, under different, happier circumstances
than faced you and your twin. From all we hear, Palin is
handsome, likeable, strong, and fit. He does not have the burden of
ill health to bear, as did Raistlin
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