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The shelter was crammed with the dwarf's possessions -
most of which appeared to be gaudy clothes. These Palin
shoved unceremoniously out onto the deck with his foot.
Tanin stretched out on the floor, Sturm collapsed next to
him, and both were asleep almost as quickly as if their
younger brother had cast a spell over them. Palin lay down
in the small remaining space, hoping sleep would come to
him as swiftly.
But he was not the campaigner his brothers were, he
realized bitterly. Sturm could sleep in full armor on the
sands of a desert while Tanin had been known to snore
blissfully as lightning cut down a tree standing next to him.
Soaked to the skin, shivering with cold, Palin lay on the
deck and gave himself up to misery. He was hungry, but
every time he thought of food, his stomach lurched. His
muscles ached from the sickness, the bitter taste of salt
water filled his mouth. He thought with longing of his bed
at home; of clean, sweet-smelling sheets; of hours of
peaceful study, sitting beneath the sheltering limbs of the
vallenwood, his spellbook in his lap.
Closing his eyes, Palin tried to keep back the tears of
homesickness, but it engulfed him like a wave. Reaching
out his hand, he touched the Staff of Magius
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