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. "I notice you mages don't go out of your way to
refute those stories!"
"They've done us good," Dalamar said, shrugging his slender
shoulders. "Because of the legends about Raistlin and his
'sacrifice,' magic is no longer feared, we wizards no longer reviled.
Our schools are flour ishing, our services are in demand. The city
of Kala-man has actually invited us to build a new Tower of High
Sorcery there." The dark elf smiled bitterly. "Ironic, isn't it?"
"What?"
"By his failure, your brother succeeded in what he set out to
accomplish," Dalamar remarked, his smile twisting. "In a way, he
HAS become a god. . . ."
"Palin, I insist on knowing what's going on." Tanin laid his
hand on Palin's shoulder.
"You heard them, Tanin," Palin hedged, nodding toward
Dalamar, who was talking with his father. "We're going to travel to
the Tower of High Sorcery in Palanthas, where the Portal is
located, and . . . and look in. ... That's all."
"And I'm a gully dwarf!" growled Tanin.
"Sometimes you think like one," Palin snapped, losing his
patience and thrusting his brother's arm away.
Tanin's face flushed a dull red. Unlike the easygoing Sturm,
Tanin had inherited his mother's temper along with her curls. He
also took his role of Elder Brother seriously, too seriously
sometimes to Palin's mind. But it's only because he loves me, the
young man reminded himself.
Drawing a deep breath, he sighed and, reaching out, clasped
his brother by the shoulders
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