43

Two hours later, your little group of adventurers is standing at the foot of the Bull's Horns. You have never seen a rock formation like it: an almost perfectly proportioned sandstone cube about the size of a large city block, rising some three hundred feet above you. The jagged "horns" at the north and south end curve upward and inward, a vicious pincer trying to grab a piece of heaven. You are parked up at the south end, and you scan the south face in vain, looking for a way in.

"Right, we're here," says Esme, prim and businesslike. "What now? Do we aim for the top?"

"I don't think so," says Sam. "The manuscript said that the author left the breastplate 'beneath' the bull's horns. I guess that has to mean inside the cube, somehow."

"Well, then," says Abdul. "There must be an entrance somewhere. I say we split up. We leave Mehedi with the truck, and the rest of us take a side each. What do you say?"

It's a good plan and the quickest way to cover all the ground. Which side do you want to take?