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"You dropped this," he said coolly, holding the scarf
out to her, all the while his keen eyes looking to see why
this young woman hid her face from the sun. He gasped.
The girl kept her head down, even after losing the
scarf, but, hearing the man's swift intake of breath, she
knew it was too late. He had seen her. She checked the
movement, therefore, looking up at the mage with a small
sigh. What she saw in his face shocked her almost as much
as what he saw in hers.
"Who . . . what kind of human are you?" she cried,
shrinking away from him.
"What kind are you?" the mage demanded, holding
onto the girl with his slender hands that were, nevertheless,
unbelievably strong.
"I - I am . . . ordinary," the girl faltered, staring at
Raistlin with wide eyes.
"Ordinary!" Raistlin gripped her more tightly as she
made a half-hearted attempt to break free. His eyes gazed in
disbelief at the fine-boned, delicate face; the mass of hair
that was the brilliance and color of silver starlight; the eyes
that were dark and soft and velvet-black as the night sky.
"Ordinary! In my hands I hold the most beautiful woman I
have seen in all my twenty-one years. What is more, I hold
in my hands A WOMAN WHO DOES NOT AGE!" He
laughed mirthlessly
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