Palin whispered the words to himself as he climbed the dark and winding stairs. Night had stolen in upon Palanthas, sealing the city in darkness, deepening the perpetual darkness that hung about the Tower of High Sorcery. Solinari, the silver moon beloved of Pala-dine, shone in the sky, but its white rays did not touch the Tower. Tjiose inside gazed upon another moon, a dark moon, a moon only their eyes could see.
The stone stairs were pitch-black. Though Cara-mon carried a torch, its feeble, wavering flame was overwhelmed by the darkness. Groping his way up the stairs, Palin stumbled more than once. Each time, his heart pulsed painfully, and he pressed himself close against the chill wall, closing his eyes. The core of the Tower was a hollow shaft. The stairs ascended it in a dizzying spiral, protruding from the wall like the bones of some dead animal.
"You are safe, young one," Dalamar said, his hand on Palin's arm. "This was designed to discourage unwelcome intruders. The magic protects us. Don't look down. It will be easier."
"Why did we have to walk?" Palin asked, stopping to catching his breath. Young as he was, the steep climb had taken its toll. His legs ached, his lungs burned. He could only imagine what his father must be feeling. Even the dark elf appeared to be at a loss for breath, though Dalamar's face was cold and impassive as ever. "Couldn't we have used magic?"
"I will not waste my energies," Dalamar replied. "Not on this night of all nights."
Seeing the slanted eyes observing him coolly, Palin said nothing, but began climbing again, keeping his eyes staring straight ahead and upward.
"There is our destination." Dalamar pointed. Looking up the stairs, Palin saw a small doorway.