Raistlin almost shouts a warning, then bitterly decides to let the young hero choose his (stupid, wasteful, pointless) fate. So he's incredibly surprised to find the his bonds loosening as the smoke-monster contorts, trying to avoid the blade's wild swings. Never one to sleep on an opportunity, Raistlin yanks himself free and crawls off a ways before rising.
"Sederai donitan," he whispers. See me as I wish to be seen. And tries to hold in his mind the clearest image he can of the white masks, the black feather robes...
When he looks at his hands, they're delicate, graceful, and white as a corpse.
"Begone!" he snaps at the smoke monster, his voice coming out high and echoed. It's not a very good imitation; he hasn't heard them speak except at the beginning. But it seems to confuse the monster, one part of it flowing away from the young hero and attending to Raistlin.
"This one is no prey of ours," he insists. "I command you to depart."
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"Sederai donitan," he whispers. See me as I wish to be seen. And tries to hold in his mind the clearest image he can of the white masks, the black feather robes...
When he looks at his hands, they're delicate, graceful, and white as a corpse.
"Begone!" he snaps at the smoke monster, his voice coming out high and echoed. It's not a very good imitation; he hasn't heard them speak except at the beginning. But it seems to confuse the monster, one part of it flowing away from the young hero and attending to Raistlin.
"This one is no prey of ours," he insists. "I command you to depart."