### 280

The man makes a slow, sure-footed descent to within three metres of where you are standing, during which time his weapon's sights never leave your chest. You can tell immediately that he is a skilled hunter and, judging by his furs and his beautifully crafted crossbow, he is a successful one too.

Your muscles are tense and coiled like springs, ready to propel you out of the path of his crossbow bolt in case he fires. But then he says something which makes you realize that, maybe, he has no intentions of killing you after all.

'You're no bandit,' he muses. 'No, by thunder, you look like a Sommlending to me.'

Turn to 340.

Text copyright © 1991 Joe Dever.
Illustrations copyright © 1991 Brian Williams.