'Let's pace it up,' he said and the three of them urged their horses into a canter. A few hundred metres away, where the ground flattened out, and before it rose to yet another low ridge line, there was a small copse of trees. He headed for it now, swinging slightly to the left, the others following close behind him. As they neared the copse, he glanced back over his shoulder, to see if there was anyone in sight behind them yet. But the skyline was empty.

'Hurry!' he called. They had to be under cover by the time the Genovesan spy reached that ridge.

He wheeled Tug to a stop at the edge of the trees and ushered the other two past him. They rode into the shelter of the copse for a few metres, then dismounted. Will, checking once more that there was no sign of a pursuer yet, followed them. He dismounted as well.

'Lead the horses well into the shadows,' he said.

Horace led Kicker further into the trees. At a gesture from Will, Abelard and Tug followed the larger horse.

'I'll take a look at Halt,' Malcolm said.

The Ranger lay, asleep still, on his bedroll in the centre of the copse. They had brought him here after nightfall, on a litter slung between Abelard and Tug, and made him comfortable. Malcolm stayed by him through the night. Before dawn, he had crept back to the camp site to be on hand for the 'funeral', during which he stood, feigning a mournful demeanour, as Will and Horace buried a small log wrapped in a blanket.

'No change,' Malcolm called softly now to Will, after his examination of Halt.

Will nodded, satisfied. It had worried him that Halt had been left here unattended for a few hours, while they pretended to wake, find the 'body' and bury it with all the outward signs of grief they could muster. But Malcolm had to be back at the camp before the watcher returned shortly after dawn, and they had decided it had been a necessary risk.

He waited now, just inside the trees, but far enough back so that he was in deep shadow and would be invisible to anyone watching from a distance. He scanned the horizon to the south eagerly.

'Any sign?' Horace said softly, as he and Malcolm moved to join Will. Horace had donned the cloak Halt had given him, and Malcolm was wearing Halt's own cloak. Every extra bit of concealment would help, and Will had instructed them both to keep their cowls up and pulled well forward.

'No! And for god's sake stop your bellowing!'

Horace couldn't help smiling at Will's irritated reply. It had hardly been a bellow, Horace knew. But he forgave his friend the exaggeration. Will was tensed to fever pitch. This ploy of his had to work if Halt were to have a chance of surviving.

'What exactly do you have in mind?' Malcolm said, being careful to keep his voice down. Will and Horace had discussed Will's plan the night before, but as Malcolm had spent the time keeping a watch over Halt, he wasn't sure of the details.

'I'm hoping he'll come to check that we've really gone,' Will said.

'And then you'll rush out and capture him?' Malcolm asked. He sounded doubtful about the wisdom of such a haphazard plan and Will's vehement reply confirmed his doubts.

'I most certainly will not! I've got no wish to get myself killed. The Genovesans are expert shots. If I charge out at him, he'll have plenty of time to put a bolt through me.'

'You're a better shot than he is,' Malcolm said. But he was missing a vital point.

'Maybe. But I want to take him alive. He'll just want me dead.'

'Couldn't you shoot to wound him?' Malcolm suggested.

Will was shaking his head before he finished speaking. 'Too risky. I'd be galloping flat out on Tug. One stumble, one false stride and I could be off target. If I miss by a couple of inches, I could kill the Genovesan. And besides, even if I did manage to wound him, he could still kill me.'

'Then… what will you do?' Malcolm asked.

'I have to wait until he's not expecting trouble. When he comes looking for us, he'll be fully alert,' Will explained. 'He'll be looking to make sure that we've really gone. I expect he'll ride to the next ridge. Then, if he can't see any sign of us, I'm hoping he'll head back to Tennyson's camp.'

'That sounds reasonable,' Malcolm said. But Will could sense that he was still puzzled by the situation so he explained further.

'Once he heads for home, he'll probably check behind him for the next hour or so. Then he'll relax a little as he's convinced we've really gone. The further he goes, the more he'll relax. That means I'll have a better chance of taking him by surprise. I'll give him a head start, then swing out and parallel his course until I catch up to him. Then I'll cut back in and get as close as I can before he sees me.'

'You'll still have to chase him down.'

Will nodded. 'Yes. But he'll be tired and he won't be expecting me. I'll have a much better chance of taking him alive if I wait a few hours.'

Malcolm nodded, understanding. But there was a worried look on his face.

'Halt may not have a few hours, Will,' he said quietly and the young Ranger sighed.

'I know that, Malcolm. But it won't do him any good if I get myself killed here, will it?'

Suddenly, he held up a hand to cut off any possible reply. Tug had rumbled a low warning sound, barely audible, and he knew the little horse had heard something.

Will nodded to him. 'Good boy,' he whispered. 'I hear it too.'

It was the sound of a horse's hooves drumming on the soft ground. The sound grew and Will dropped to a crouch, motioning to the others to do the same.

'Remember,' he cautioned them, 'if he looks this way, don't move a muscle.'

For several seconds, there was nothing, then the hoof-beats slowed and Will saw movement on the horizon. Slowly, a horse and rider rose above the skyline. Will's lip curled in contempt. The Genovesan might be a dangerous enemy in the alleys and back streets of a town or city, he thought. But his field skills were sadly lacking. If you were going to show yourself above a skyline like that, there was nothing to be gained by doing it slowly.

For it was the Genovesan. He recognised him easily, noting the dull purple cloak and the crossbow held, loaded and ready, across his saddle bow. The man stood in his stirrups, shielding his eyes with one hand, and searched the ground below him, looking for any sign of the three riders. The terrain here continued for kilometres in a series of undulating low ridges. To the Genovesan, it appeared that Horace, Will and Malcolm had already ridden over the next one to the north and were out of sight. That made sense, as he'd waited some minutes before setting out after them, in case they were delayed.

The Genovesan urged his horse forward now, cresting the ridge and riding down the shallow slope before him. He was no tracker, Will could see. The clumsy hints the Genovesans had left through the drowned forest had told him they knew little of real tracking skills. He watched as the assassin cantered past, about one hundred and fifty metres from where they crouched in concealment, then rode up to the next crest. Again, he repeated the useless manoeuvre of slowing down before he reached the crest, then exposing himself and his horse completely to look beyond it.

Obviously, he saw no sign of the three riders from that vantage point either. He hesitated for a few minutes, then wheeled his horse to the south and cantered back the way he had come, passing the copse of trees once more.

But, as before, he paid no attention to the spot where the three were hiding. He rode without pausing over the ridge and they heard his hoof beats slowly fading. Will waited a few minutes, then looked at Tug, standing back among the trees.

'Anything?' he asked. The horse neighed softly and tossed his head. His ears went up, then down again. There was no sound for him to hear. For the first time in perhaps thirty minutes, Will relaxed his tense muscles. He could feel the result of the tension across his shoulders.