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Instantly the dwarf whirled, crouched low, and scanned
the trail below him. In another moment he saw them: three
humans on horses, moving up the valley at a walk. They
wore silver helmets and breastplates, and the one in the
lead wore a bright red cloak. A matching plume trailed
from his helm. The pair who rode behind were clad in
billowing capes of green and bore no badge of rank upon
their heads.
Horgan cast another glance at the cave. All was still
within. Boldly, he raised his axe and shield and stepped
onto the pathway. He had advanced to the beginning of the
crude log bridge before the riders, on the other side of the
stream, saw him.
"Hold," cried the human in the crimson cloak, raising his
hand. His two comrades reined in and regarded Horgan
suspiciously. His tunic, emblazoned with the hammer sign
of the high thane, clearly marked him as an official, and
this apparently did not please the humans.
But it was the tall man, the one who had commanded
the halt, who spoke first. Horgan identified him by the
gold-hilted short sword resting, for now, in the man's
scabbard, as a centurion of Istar.
"Greetings, dwarf," the centurion said, making the
word sound like an insult - to Horgan's ears, at least
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