"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.

p i n g
P O N G
p i n g
p o n g


2005012