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Glancing back, Palin saw his father-tears streaming down his
face-still struggling in impotent fury to break free of the spell
that bound him. For a moment, Palin's heart misgave him. His
father loved him. . . . No. Palm's lips tightened in resolution. All
the more reason for letting me go. I will prove to him I am as
strong as Tanin and Sturm. I will show him I am not a child,
needing his protection.
Palin saw Dalamar start to ascend the stairs behind him. But
then the dark elf himself came to a halt as two more pairs of
disembodied eyes suddenly materialized out of the darkness.
"What is this?" Dalamar demanded furiously. "Do you dare
stop me-the Master of the Tower?"
"There is only one true Master of the Tower," the Guardian
said softly. "He who came to us long ago. For him, the gates
opened."
As the Guardian spoke, it held out its hand to Palin. A silver
key lay within its skeletal palm.
"Palin!" Dalamar shouted, fear and anger tightening his voice.
"Don't enter alone! You know nothing of the Art! You have not
taken the Test! You cannot fight him! You could destroy us all!"
"Palin!" Caramon begged in agony. "Palin, come home! Can't
you understand? I love you so much, my son! I can't lose you-
not like I lost him. . . ."
The voices dinned in his ears, but Palin didn't hear them. He
heard another voice, a soft, shattered voice whispering in his
heart. "Come to me, Palin! I need you! I need your help
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