The Man in Black sharply replied, “I know tactics and hand-to-hand battle, not Magick. What are you talking about, sorcerer?”
Bailiwick hazarded a wry smile and carefully removed a cylindrical leather pouch from his pack. The sorcerer gingerly opening the pouch and allowed a sleek arrow to glide onto the table. The shaft was made of rare bluewood and the fletching was jet black.
Beeyo’s lieutenant marveled at the arrow’s construction and said, “It’s well made” He reached out and touched the arrow.
Bailiwick shouted, “Don’t touch the fletching!!”
His warning came too late. The stout kobold’s hand quivered and then he clutched his chest and fell dead. The others shied away from the arrow.
Bailiwick said, “Idiot! It’s a Tuscon feather! I took it from Thynna. Touching it means death! The tip of the arrow is made from the quill. Don’t touch it there!”
The red-headed stranger said, “How can it be used?”
Bailiwick said, “With great care, you idiots! Nocking the arrow requires a deft hand and a thick glove. Three Kobold archers died trying to nock the arrow.
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