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. . .
this enchantment?"
"Yes," Amberyl answered without a voice, feeling the
warm blood suffuse her face.
"How?" Raistlin demanded, his hand clenching.
"First," said Amberyl, swallowing, "I - I must tell you
something about . . . about the VALIN."
"The what?" Raistlin asked quickly. Amberyl could see
his eyes flicker. Even facing death, his mind was working,
catching hold eagerly of this new information, storing it
away.
"The VALIN. That is what it is called in our language. It
means . . ." She paused, frowning, trying to think. I suppose
the closest meaning in your language is LIFE-MATE."
The startled expression on the mage's face was so funny
that Amberyl laughed nervously. "Wait, let me explain," she
said, feeling her own face growing more and more flushed.
"For reasons of our own, in ages so far back that they are
past reckoning, my people fled this land and retreated to one
where we could live undisturbed. Our race is, as you were
able to detect, long-lived. But we are not immortal. As all
others, in order for our race to survive, we must produce
children. But there were few of us and fewer still as time
went by. The land we chose to live in is a harsh one. We
tend to be loners, living by ourselves with little interaction
even among our own kind
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