"I am Pa-Kur," said the man.
It was he, the Master Asssassin of Ar, leader of the assembled horde.
"We meet again," I said.
His eyes, like glass or stone, revealed nothing.
"The cylinder at Ko-ro-ba," I said. "The crossbow."
He said nothing.
"You failed to kill me that time," I taunted. "Perhaps you would care to risk another shot now.
Perhaps the mark would be more suited to your skills."
The men behind Pa-Kur muttered at my impudence.
He himself showed no impatience.
"My weapon," he said, simply extending his hand. A crossbow was immediately placed in his grip. It
was a large steel bow, wound and set, the iron quarrel placed in the guide.
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