### 49

The guard snatches the square of blue card from between your fingers then walks over to a spluttering wall torch, which he removes from its bracket. Holding the torch high, he returns and examines first the card and then your face.

'Enter,' he snarls, crumpling the card in his hairy fist. You flick your heel and urge your tired horse through the town gate.

Turn to 129.

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