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of the gorge.
    Laca's knights opened their ranks in a silent welcome.
    It was now Aglaca's turn. Lost in the red folds of Abe-laard's tabard, the boy waded
     carefully across the bridge,
    the garment trailing on the stones so that he looked like a gnomish enchanter, like an
     alchemist whose concoctions had backfired. A sharp wind buffeted him, and he drew his hood
     closer.
    Steadily now, his steps gaining assurance the closer he came, Aglaca approached Daeghrefn
     on the narrow span. Behind him, Cerestes performed the last of the ceremonial rites.
     Breathing a prayer to Hiddukel, the old god of deals and transactions, the mage knelt and
     drew an obscure sign with his finger.
    Verminaard peered from his place, straining to see. This mage had great power, he could
     tell. But Cerestes was too far from him, the gestures too veiled and intricate to see
     clearly. The clouds in the gorge rose to cover the mage, and for a moment, he seemed
     larger, darker in the thickening mist.
    You could do such things as well, Lord Verminaard, the Voice soothed and tempted. Raise
     clouds and magnify and bring down the bridling dark. You could rival the great
     spell-masters, Lord Verminaard, and write your name in the gray, metallic swirl of fog and
     dangerous rumor....
    Verminaard listened and, bathed in dark suggestions, felt almost comforted, even though
     Abelaard was gone.
    From out of the mist, Aglaca approached, the mage emerging from the cloud behind him,
     slender and stooped, diminished from the monstrous shadow he had cast at the end of the
     ceremony. But Cerestes was strangely unwearied, his gold eyes glittering like the metallic
     swirl he had conjured from the depths.
    It was all Verminaard could do to draw his eyes away from the mage, to rest his gaze on
     the Solamnic hostage.
    “M'Lord Aglaca,” Cerestes announced. “May I present your ... host, Lord Daeghrefn of
     Nidus.”
    The boy bowed politely, and Daeghrefn extended his hand.
    “May your presence remind us ... of one who is away,”
    Lord Nidus announced, his voice thick with emotion, “and of the alliance his bravery
     affirms.”
    “1 shall endeavor to be worthy of your honor and gra-ciousness,” Aglaca replied and turned
     to greet Verminaard.
    “And you,” he said, brushing back his hood, “will be my new brother in the war to come,
     alliance of my alliance.”
    Dumbstruck, Verminaard gazed into the face of the Solamnic boy. It was a revelationthe
     pale eyes, the thin nose, the white-blond hair and brow. It was his own face, his mirror
     image.
    Somewhere deep in the mountainswhether from west or east, they could not tell for the
     echoes the oracles of Godshome began to murmur and hum, and the druidess L'Indasha Yman
     looked up from her icy augury and nodded.

Dragonlance - Villains 1 - Before the Mask
    Chapter 3
    “I shall... study your friendship as well, Master Verminaard,” Aglaca declared politely,
     eyeing the other boy with cautious curiosity. He shifted from foot to foot, awaiting the
     courtly reply, the Solamnic greeting that traditionally followed an offer of service and
     goodwill.
    Verminaard said nothing.
    His young face was unreadable, like hard mountain stone obscured by mist and distance.
     Despite Robert's nudgings and coaxings, he refused to speak to the guest. He held his
     silence even as Daeghrefn's party returned on the high, snaking road east from the Jelek
     Pass, to where Castle Nidus awaited them.
    Along the way, Aglaca reasoned with himself. Daegh-
    refn's family did not do things like his own. There was no Measure, little ceremony.
     Perhaps it was what his father had saidthat the garrison of Nidus was half-barbaric,
     little better than the Nerakans. Or perhaps Verminaard mourned his brother. He could
     understand that. Aglaca wished he, too, were home again, with his friends and his dogs,
     wished that this new and forbidding duty had not befallen him.
    Then there was the vision