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. He had no way of imagining Dalamar's
enemy, this "Qualinesti mage," but his mind constructed a
spectral figure in a hooded white robe, the face hidden by
the cowl except for terrible red eyes gleaming from its
shadows. Lodston woke from his nightmare with a shudder
and lay awake staring at the dying embers in the fireplace.
"What am I supposed to do if this mage from Qualinesti
comes for your scrolls and books?" he cried in a hushed
voice, as if Dalamar could hear and advise him. "I don't
know anything about magic. I wouldn't even know which
spell to read until it was too late. Why should I have to fight
your enemy when you ran away from him yourself?"
The silence that followed his desperate cry for help
offered no solace. Lodston fumbled in the darkness for the
staff and the glasses. When he had found both magical
items, he crawled to the door. The only thing he could do, it
seemed, was leave this business to Dalamar and the mage
from Qualinesti, whoever he was. He remembered stories
from his childhood about the Kinslayer Wars between
different elven clans and wondered fleetingly if that was the
"war" that Milo Martin had mentioned.
"It's none of my business, any way you look at it!" he
muttered at the door
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