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. But he
might have spared his energy. The archmage held him
fast-with his eyes, not his hands.
"He'll smother you!" Raistlin hissed. "Smother you as he
did me! He will prevent you taking the Test. You know that,
don't you."
"He-he doesn't understand," Palin faltered. "He's only
trying to do what he thinks-"
"Don't lie to me, Palin," Raistlin said softly, placing his
slender fingers on the young man's lips. "Don't lie to
yourself. Speak the truth that is in your soul. I see it in you
so clearly! The hatred, the jealousy! Use it, Palin! Use it to
make you strong-as I did!"
The golden-skinned hand traced over the bones of Palin's
face-the firm, strong chin, the clenched jaw, the smooth,
high cheekbones. Palin trembled at the touch, but more still
at the expression in the burning, hourglass eyes. "You
should have been mine! My son!" Raistlin murmured. "I
would have raised you to power! What wonders I would
have shown you, Palin. Upon the wings of magic we would
have flown the world-cheered the winner of the fights for
succession among the minotaur, gone swimming with the
sea elves, battled giants, watched the birth of a golden
dragon. . . . All this could have been yours, SHOULD have
been yours, Palin, if only they-"
A fit of coughing checked the archmage. Gasping,
Raistlin staggered, clutching his chest. Catching hold of him
in his strong arms, Palin led his uncle to a dusty, cushioned
chair that sat near the Portal
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