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"But how can you go anywhere?" Palin murmured.
"You are . . . dying."
"Yes," Raistlin answered wordlessly, his thin lips
twisting in a grim smile. "In a few moments, I will die, as I
have died countless mornings before this. When night falls,
I will return to life and spend the night looking forward to
the dawn when the Queen will come and tear my flesh,
ending my life in tortured pain once more."
"What can I do?" Palin cried. "How can I help you?"
"You are helping already," Raistlin said aloud, his voice
growing stronger. His hand moved feebly. "Look . . ."
Reluctantly, Palin glanced down at his uncle's terrible
wound. It was closing! The flesh was mending! The young
man stared in astonishment. If he had been a high-ranking
cleric of Paladine, he could have performed no greater miracle.
"What is happening? How-" he asked blankly.
"Your goodness, your love," whispered Raistlin. "So might my
brother have saved me if he had possessed the courage to enter the
Abyss himself." His lip curled in bitterness. "Help me stand."
Palin swallowed but said nothing as he helped the archmage
rise to his feet. What could he say? Shame filled his soul, shame
for his father. Well, he would make up for it.
"Give me your arm, nephew. I can walk. Come, we must reach
the Portal before the Queen returns."
"Are you sure you can manage?" Palin put his arm around
Raistlin s body, feeling the strange, unnatural heat that radiated
from it warm his own chilled flesh
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