Pran, Ralph, and Doc set out for Pran’s home once more, this time with forty Elf soldiers led by Dornal. The other forty, led by Loriman, had set out before them at a hard gallop. The sun was low in the sky now, and they set off at a quick pace.
‘Well, Doc, what do you think of this place now?’ asked Ralph, riding beside him. He was talking more in an attempt to choke down his own fear for the others, than to make conversation.
‘I think you’d better get busy with those arrowheads,’ Doc replied. ‘There’s something not right with that Prince Cir character.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Didn’t you notice anything strange about the blood on his face?’
Overhearing this, Pran slowed to ride beside them. ‘What is strange about Cir’s blood?’
‘He didn’t bleed enough, for one thing,’ said Doc. ‘For another thing, the injury itself didn’t look right.’
Ralph laughed humourlessly. ‘Well, how should it have looked?’
‘Not like a split grape,’ said Doc. ‘Look, I’ve seen every kind of wound there is. When skin is split open like that, you should be able to see fat and bone underneath, as well as muscle and tendon.’