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The narrow street begins its steep descent towards the wharves and huge warehouses that line the River Quarl. The sun is now below the horizon and lanterns are being lit in the twisting alleys and passages of the dingy town. From open alehouse doors the red glare of roaring fires colours the oily black cobblestones.

You have been riding for barely a minute when the street ahead is blocked by a procession of men, advancing up the hill towards you. They are dressed in red cloaks with black hoods and carry large scarlet candles, which flicker in the chill evening breeze.

Their leader is a tall man with hard grey eyes. He fixes you with a stare and slowly raises his hands; the procession halts. 'Are you a believer or an unbeliever?' he cries, his voice as piercing as his stare.

If you have ever been to the buried temple of Maaken, turn to 294.

If you wish to answer 'believer', turn to 108.

If you wish to answer 'unbeliever', turn to 67.

Text copyright © 1985 Joe Dever.
Illustrations copyright © 1985 Gary Chalk.