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"Know this, Palin!" Raistlin whispered, speaking with great
effort, his words barely audible. "I sacrificed . . . MYSELF. . . for .
. . MYSELF! Sinking back into his chair, he gasped for breath.
When he could move, he reached out a shaking, blood-stained
hand and caught hold of Palin's white robes. "I saw . . . what I
must. . . become ... if I succeeded. NOTHING! That. . . was ... all.
Dwindle ... to ... nothing. The world . . . dead. . . . This way"-His
hand gestured feebly at the wall, the gruesome pool beneath it. His
eyes gleamed feverishly-"there was . . . still... a chance . . . for
me ... to return ..."
'"No!" Palin cried, struggling to free himself from Raistlin's
grasp. "I don't believe you!"
"Why not?" Raistlin kept hold of the young man. His voice
grew stronger. "You told them yourself. Don't you remember,
Palin? 'A man must put the magic first, the world second . . . '
That's what you said to them in the Tower. The world doesn't
matter to you anymore than it does to me! Nothing matters- your
brothers, your father! The magic! The power! That's all that means
anything to either of us!"
"I don't know!" Palin cried brokenly, his hands clawing at
Raistlin's. "I can't think! Let me go! Let me go . . ." His fingers fell
nervelessly from Raistlin's wrists, his head sank into his hands.
Tears filled his eyes.
"Poor young one," Raistlin said smoothly. Laying his hand on
Palin's head, he drew it gently into his lap and stroked the auburn
hair soothingly
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