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The Inquisitor-major regards your Sommlending tunics and cloaks with deep suspicion. He is about to order his men to hold and search you, when suddenly you hear the wavering tone of a distant hunting horn come rolling across the plain.
‘Zalnae’s found the scent!’ shouts one of the men, excitedly.
‘We’re back on the trail!’ says another.
‘Come, Halx. Forget about these fools,’ says a third man, who sits alongside the Inquisitor-major astride a chestnut mare. ‘Let us return to our hunting lest we lose the trail for a second time this day.’
The Inquisitor-major glares at you and he grunts his displeasure. Yet he heeds the words of his fellow hunters and he wheels his horse about.
‘50 Orla to the man who makes the kill!’ he cries, and his companions give a raucous cheer. As they gallop away across the plain towards the distant foothills, you and Karvas breathe a sigh of relief before you continue your ride east towards Varedo.
