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. "Thus runs
the legend about your uncle's return to this Tower."
Palin said nothing-the words were in his heart. They
had been there, secretly, ever since he was old enough to
dream. In awe, he looked up at the huge gates that barred
the entrance, trying to imagine his uncle standing where he
now stood, commanding the gates to open. And when they
did- Palin's gaze went farther upward still to the dark
Tower itself.
It was daylight in Palanthas, it had been mid-morning when
they left the Tower of High Sorcery in Wayreth, hundreds
of miles to the south. And it was mid-morning still, their
magical journey having taken them no more than the
drawing of a breath. The sun was at its zenith, shining right
above the Tower. Two of the blood-red minarets atop the
Tower held the golden orb between them, like blood-stained
fingers greedily grasping a coin. And the sun might well
have been nothing more than a coin for all the warmth it
shed, for no sunshine ever warmed this place of evil. The
huge black stone edifice-torn from the bones of the world
by magic spells-stood in the shadow of the spell-bound
Shoikan Grove, a stand of massive oak trees that guarded
the Tower more effectively than if each tree had been a
hundred knights-at-arms. So powerful was its dread
enchantment that no one could even come near it. Unless
protected by a dark charm, no one could enter and come out alive.
Turning his head, Palin glanced from the folds of his white
hood at the Grove's tall trees
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