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. . . THE BENIGHTED. Raistlin.
Another odd fish whom the poet had little to do with at the
time, having started the acquaintance on the wrong foot by
making a mild joke about the eyes of this particularly
humorless individual: the suggestion that if Raistlin stood
on his head he could reverse the flow of Time and make us
all young again was greeted with such a withering stare that
for a while Armavir feared that the mage might transform
him into something terribly ungnomelike - a roll-top desk
or a chicken, perhaps, sent scuttling back amid the tunnels
and chambers beneath Mount Nevermind, where doubtless
lay many snares that had slipped from a memory damaged
by both dwarf spirits and electricity. Surely Raistlin had
something to do with my being here in this cistern of a
cubicle, with what is now inevitably my fate as the water
keeps rising, bearing the writing table higher and higher in
the drowned room until I shall be crushed among table and
water and stone. . . .
But again to abandon self-pity, for the truth must be
championed (and shall make me free?). Raistlin DID write
the farewell to his brother that concludes Volume III of the
CHRONICLES,31 and if he did not, I should be a fool to say
otherwise
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