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. Golden eyes
stared at him, their hourglass pupils dilated with agony.
Blood-stained lips parted to speak, but no words came. A
shudder shook the frail body.
"I know you . . . uncle. . . ." Doubling over, Palin began
to sob, while in his mind, the words screamed at him.
"Father lied! He lied to me! He lied to himself!"
"Palin, be strong!" Raistlin whispered. "You . . . can free
me. But you must ... be quick. . . ."
Strong ... I must be strong. . . .
"Yes." Palin swallowed his tears. Wiping his face, he rose
unsteadily to his feet, keeping his gaze on his uncle's eyes.
"I-I'm sorry. What must I do?"
"Use . . . the staff. Touch the locks around . . . my
wrists. . . . Hurry! The . . . Queen . . ."
"Where-where is the Dark Queen?" Palin stammered.
Stepping carefully past the pool of blood, he came to stand
near his uncle and, reaching up, touched the glowing crystal
of the staff to the first of the manacles that held Raistlin
bound to the wall.
Exhausted, near death, his uncle could speak no longer,
but his words came to Palin's mind. "Your coming forced
her to leave. She was not prepared to face one of the White
Robes such as you. But that will not last long. She will
return. Both of us ... must be gone. .. ."
Palin touched the other manacle and, freed of his chains,
Raistlin slumped forward, his body falling into the arms of
the young man. Catching hold of his uncle, his horror lost in
his pity and compassion, Palin gently laid the torn, bleeding
body on the ground
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