And as he saw it and sensed that it was right he realised, without knowing how, that at the last moment, the Genovesan would try to avoid his arrow. It would only be a small movement – a half step or a sway of the body. But he would do it. Will swung his aim to a point half a metre to his right.

And released – smoothly and without jerking.

He made sure that he held the sighting picture steady after he released, not succumbing to the temptation to drop the bow, but following through with it still in position.

Something flashed by his head, a metre or so to his left. He heard a wicked hiss as it passed and he registered the fact that the Genovesan had shot before he did. And now, as he finally lowered the bow, he saw the fractional movement from the other man as he took a half-step to the left – directly into the path of Will's speeding arrow.

The purple figure jerked suddenly, stumbled a few paces and then fell face up on the grass.

The crowd erupted. Some of them had seen the slight movement the Genovesan had made. They wondered if the Araluan had allowed for it or if it was a lucky mistake. Whichever way it was, the result was a popular one. As Will walked slowly back down the field, the crowd cheered themselves hoarse, on both sides.

He glanced to his left and saw the thickset white-robed figure slumped back against his cushions, obviously in the depths of defeat.

So much for you, he thought. Then, at ground level on the opposite side, his attention focused on Halt and Horace and he grinned tiredly at them.

'What happened? What happened? Is he all right?' Horace, still unable to see clearly, was in a frenzy of worry. Halt patted his arm.

'He's fine. He's just fine.' He shook his head and sank down onto the bench. The tension of watching his two young friends risk their lives in one afternoon was almost too much.

'I am definitely getting too old for this,' he said softly. But at the same time, he felt a deep swelling of pride at the way Horace and Will had conducted themselves. He rose as Will reached them and, without a word, stepped forward to embrace his former apprentice. Horace was busy pumping Will's hand and slapping his back and they were soon surrounded by well-wishers trying to do the same. Finally, Halt released him and stepped back.

Just as well you got to the tent in time to save that glass of drugged water,' he said. Will grinned, a little shamefaced.

'Actually, I didn't. I only just made it before he did. I had no time to get to the jug. I sent the ice vendor to fill the tumbler with any water he could find. I figured our Genovesan friend wouldn't take the chance on drinking it.'

A delighted smile began to spread over Halt's face as he realised the bluff Will had pulled off. But it faded as they heard an urgent shout from the royal enclosure.

'The King! The King is dead!'

Leading Horace, they fought their way through the surging crowd as people tried to move closer to get a better view. Sean saw them coming and signalled for them to move to the front of the stand, where he leaned down and helped haul them up onto the raised platform.

'What happened?' asked Halt.

Wordlessly, Sean gestured for them to take a closer look. Ferris was in his throne, a surprised expression on his face, his eyes wide open. Finally, the royal steward found his voice.

'I don't know. Nobody saw it in all the excitement of the duel. When I looked back, there he was, dead. Perhaps it's a stroke or a heart attack.'

But Halt was shaking his head. Gently, he tried to move the King forward and felt resistance. Peering behind the throne, he saw the flights of the crossbow quarrel protruding from the thin wood. The missile had gone through the back of the chair and into Ferris's back, killing him instantly, pinning him to the chair.

'Tennyson!' he said and dashed to the front of the enclosure, where he could see the opposite stands.

There was a heavyset figure still in the main seat. But it wasn't Tennyson. It was one of his followers, who bore a passing resemblance to the fake priest of Alseiass.

Tennyson, along with the two remaining Genovesans and half a dozen of his closest followers, was nowhere to be seen.

Chapter 45

Nobody had seen him go. As Sean had said, everyone's eyes were riveted on the drama being played out on e'combat arena. 'Chances are, he left before the duel even took place,' Halt said. 'He's not the type to take chances. If his man had won, it would have been easy to return and claim victory. So he sent one of the assassins to murder Ferris, then got clean away. Now he has a head start on us. And we have no way of knowing which way he went.'

They had ridden immediately to the Outsiders' camp but there was no sign of Tennyson or his party. There were a few sullen acolytes remaining there but the vast majority had been at the market ground. Those remaining in camp denied seeing their leader depart.

Halt was torn by frustration. There was so much to attend to here. Tennyson's remaining followers had to be rounded up and secured. He set Sean and the castle garrison to that task. The vast majority would be turned loose, he knew. They were simple dupes and Tennyson's behaviour had alienated most of them, revealing his true colours to them. But there were perhaps eighty white robes who had been part of his inner circle and willing accomplices to his crimes. They would have to be arrested, tried and imprisoned.

At the same time, all his instincts told him he should be out hunting Tennyson and his small party, finding which way they had gone. But he was needed in Dun Kilty. Ferris's death had left a power vacuum. Someone had to take control and, as the rightful heir, he was the logical choice. It would only be temporary. As he had told Ferris, he had no wish to be King – but every moment he delayed meant that Tennyson would be slipping further away.

Finally, he came to the logical, the only, solution.

'Go after them for me, Will,' he said. 'Find out where they're headed and send word. Don't try to stop them yourself. There are too many of them and those Genovesans will be doubly dangerous now they've seen you kill their comrade. Stay out of sight and wait for us to catch up.'

Will nodded and started towards the stable where they had left their horses that morning. Then he hesitated and turned back.

'What about Horace? His eyes…' He paused uncertainly, not wanting to continue. Halt patted his shoulder reassuringly.

'Sean had the royal surgeon check him over. He's pretty sure he knows what the drug was and it's a temporary condition. His vision seems to be improving already. In a day or so, he'll be back to normal.'

Will let go a small sigh of relief. 'At least that's good news.'

Halt nodded agreement. 'I think we deserved some.' Then he thought about that and realised that they had enjoyed more than their share in the past day or so.

'I haven't had a chance to say it, but you did well,' he told the young Ranger. 'Very well indeed. The bluff with the water was inspired. We needed to reveal Tennyson's treachery and that tipped the scales. A simple defeat in combat might not have convinced all his followers that he was a charlatan.'

Will shrugged awkwardly. He was embarrassed by the praise. Yet at the same time, it meant so much to him. There was only one person in the world whose approval he sought and that was his grey-haired former teacher.

'One question,' Halt said. 'How did you know the Genovesan was going to duck?'

He'd seen the flight of Will's arrow, seen the assassin step into Its path. And he knew Will's standard of accuracy with the longbow. The arrow had gone where he had intended it to.

Will scratched his head. 'I don't know. I just… knew it somehow. It seemed so much in keeping with everything else they'd done so far. And he was right-handed, so I thought the odds were good that he'd step off his right foot, the master side. So I aimed to compensate. Call it instinct, I suppose. Or dumb luck.'