Chapter fourNo one moved. Under the threat of those bows only the biggest fool in all Kregen would have attempted to do anything at all not sanctioned by those marksmen.
A man came striding through Gochert’s people. He looked neither right nor left. He wore completely plain armor. The great Lohvian longbow was held in that apparently lazy, effortless way of your true Bowman of Loh. His brilliant blue eyes beamed on us. Around his waist he wore a flaunting red sash, the only flamboyant mark about him. His face, bronzed, handsome, commanded instant obedience. He marched lithely up to the table.
“Well, my old dom, and you are still in one piece?”
“Oh, aye, majister,” I said, and stood up, and clasped his hand which, as he was a Bowman of Erthyrdrin, could grip the shaft and draw and loose
