### 284

You throw yourself flat against your horse’s neck and you hear the archer’s arrow as it whistles across your shoulder-blades. Its tip grazes the back of your tunic and narrowly misses penetrating your spine by less than an inch. For a few uncertain moments the marines believe that you have been mortally wounded, but they are quick to cheer when they see you sit up unharmed. You acknowledge their shout with a wave of your hand and lead them at a gallop out of this unfriendly mountain town.

Turn to 52.