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The old man frowns and curses you under his breath. Then he turns around and hobbles away across the beach.
‘Silly old scrounger!’ says Sligh, as he watches him go.
‘We’re wastin’ our time here, Grand Master,’ comments Oswin. ‘Shouldn’t we be getting on?’
You nod in agreement and motion the others to follow as you turn your horse back towards the coast road. It is a clear night and the brilliant moon is nearly full. With luck you could be in Bir Rabalou well before midnight.
