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. "Not on
this night of all nights."
Seeing the slanted eyes observing him coolly, Palin said
nothing, but began climbing again, keeping his eyes staring
straight ahead and upward.
"There is our destination." Dalamar pointed. Looking up
the stairs, Palin saw a small doorway.
FOR ME, THE GATES WILL OPEN. . . .
Raistlin's words. Palin's fear began to subside, ex-
citement surged through him. His steps quickened. Behind
him, he heard Dalamar's light tread and his father's heavier
one. He could also hear Caramon's labored breathing, and
felt a twinge of remorse.
"Do you want to rest, father?" he asked, stopping.
"No," Caramon grunted. "Let's get this foolishness over
with. Then we can go home."
His voice was gruff, but Palin heard a strange note in it, a
note he had never heard before. Turning slowly around to
face the door, Palin knew it for what it was-fear. His
father was afraid. Palin knew then a secret feeling of joy-
one his uncle must have known. His father. Hero of the
Lance, the strongest man he knew, who could-even now-
wrestle the brawny Tanin to the ground and disarm the
skilled swordsman, Sturm. His father was frightened,
frightened of the magic.
He is afraid, Palin realized, and I am not! Closing his
eyes, Palin leaned back against the chill wall of the Tower
and, for the first time in his life, gave himself up to the
magic. He felt it bum in his blood, caress his skin
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