'He said he was going to do that,' Will put in. He remembered telling Halt and Crowley about Malcolm during his debriefing session. They were interested in the healer's medical skills – and the other skills of deception and illusion that he had demonstrated. Knowing Malcolm, Will had been confident that he would share his medical skills with them, but not the other skills, which were his alone.

'In any event,' Halt said, bringing matters back to the present, 'I'd wager this is where Tennyson is heading.'

'Yes,' Malcolm agreed. 'If he's planning to set up a headquarters and add to his band of followers, a nice cave complex would be as good a place as any.'

'Well, standing here isn't going to get us any closer to him,' Halt said. 'We've given him too much of a lead already.'

He strode back to where Abelard waited for him and mounted quickly. Then he waited impatiently while the others followed his example. Will noticed him fidgeting with his reins as he watched Malcolm make two unsuccessful attempts to mount behind Horace.

'For god's sake, Horace,' Halt finally cried out. 'Can't you just haul him up behind you?'

'Take it easy,' Will said softly.

Halt looked at him quickly, then gave him a shamefaced smile. 'Sorry,' he said. 'It's just that after all these delays, I'm anxious to catch up with him.'

But it was that very anxiety and eagerness to close with Tennyson that eventually let him down. Halt was pushing himself too hard. Under normal circumstances, he would have had no trouble keeping up to the pace he was setting. But he wasn't fully recovered from the effects of the poison, or the days lying close to death in his blankets. Halt had used up a large part of his natural energy reserves and it would take more than a day or two to restore them.

That evening, when they camped, he slid from the saddle and stood, head bowed and exhausted. When Will went to unsaddle and water Abelard, he offered only token resistance.

Will and Horace took care of the minor chores, gathering firewood, building the fire and preparing the meal. Horace even set out Halt's bedroll and blankets for him, laying them out on a small pile of leafy branches that he gathered together. Halt reacted with surprise when he saw it.

'Thanks, Horace,' he said, touched by the young warrior's concern for him.

Horace shrugged. 'Think nothing of it.'

They noticed that when the meal was done, and after the obligatory cups of coffee, Halt didn't linger round the camp fire talking, as he would usually do. He took himself off to his bedroll and slept soundly.

'The sleep of the exhausted,' Malcolm said wryly, eyeing the still figure.

'Is he all right?' Will asked anxiously.

'He's fine, so far as the poison is concerned. But he's working himself too hard. He doesn't have the strength to keep this pace up. See if you can get him to ease up a little.' He knew that if the suggestion came from Will, there was more chance that Halt might take heed. Will wasn't so sure.

'I'll try,' he said.

But the following morning, refreshed by a long night's sleep, Halt wasn't in any mood to take things easily. He fussed and fretted while they had breakfast and packed up their camp. Then he mounted Abelard and set out at a cracking pace.

By eleven that morning, he was swaying in the saddle, his face grey with fatigue, his shoulders slumped. Will rode up beside him, leaned over and seized Abelard's reins, bringing the little horse to a stop. Halt shook himself out of the exhausted daze that had claimed him and looked around in surprise.

'What are you doing?' he asked. 'Let go of my reins!' He tried to pull the reins out of Will's grip but the young Ranger held firm. Abelard neighed in consternation, sensing that all wasn't well with his master.

'Halt, you have to slow down,' Will told him.

'Slow down? Don't talk such nonsense! I'm fine. Now give me back those reins.' Halt tried again to pull the reins from Will's grasp but realised with some surprise that he couldn't break his former apprentice's grip. Abelard, sensing the tension between them, neighed nervously. Then he shook his mane and turned his head so that he could look Halt in the eye. That was something else that surprised Halt. Normally, if someone had grabbed hold of his reins, Abelard would have reacted violently against them. Instead, in this confrontation, he seemed to be taking Will's side.

That, more than anything else, made Halt feel that perhaps Will was right. Perhaps he hadn't recovered as fully as he thought. Time was that he would have shaken off the effects of the poisoning in a matter of a few hours. But perhaps that time was behind him. For the first time, Halt had a sense of his own limitations.

At Malcolm's urging, Horace brought Kicker up alongside Abelard, on the other side to Tug and Will.

'Will's right,' he said. 'You're pushing too hard. If you keep this up, you'll have a relapse.'

'And that will lose more time than if you simply take a little time to recover now,' Malcolm put in. Halt glared from one to the other.

'What is this?' he asked. 'Are you all conspiring against me? Even my horse?'

It was the last three words that made Will smile. 'We figured you mightn't listen to a healer, a Ranger or a knight of the realm,' he said. 'But if your horse agreed with them, you'd have no choice but to pay attention.'

In spite of himself, Halt couldn't help the faintest hint of a smile touching his own mouth. He tried to hide it but the corners of his mouth twitched defiantly. He realised, when he considered the position honestly, that his friends weren't urging him to rest in order to annoy him. They were doing so because they cared about him and they were worried about him. And he realised that he respected their judgement enough to admit that perhaps they might be right and he might be wrong. And there were very few people who could bring Halt to admit that.

'Halt, you need to rest. If you'll just stop being stubborn and admit it, we'll make better time in the long run. Stay here for a day, get your strength back. Horace and I can push on ahead and scout the situation. If you're right, Tennyson will have set up at these caves. So there's no rush any more to catch up with him.'

Will's tone was reasonable, not argumentative, and he saw from Halt's body language that he was on the brink of giving in. Seeing that he needed just one more mental shove, Will provided it, invoking the ultimate authority in the bearded Ranger's world.

'You know Lady Pauline would agree with me,' he said.

Halt's head jerked up at the name. 'Pauline? What does she have to do with this situation?'

Will held his gaze steadily. 'If you continue the way you are, I'll have to go back and face her, and tell her I failed in the task she set me.'

Halt opened his mouth to reply, but words failed him. He closed his mouth again, realising how foolish he must look. Will seized the opportunity to continue.

'And if you continue like this, and run yourself into the ground, I'm not going to have the nerve to face her.'

Halt considered that statement and slowly nodded his head. He could understand Will's sentiments there.

'No,' he said thoughtfully, 'I shouldn't imagine you would.' Then, to Malcolm's surprise, Halt slowly dismounted.

'Well,' he said mildly, 'perhaps I should rest up for a day or so. I wouldn't want to overdo things.' He looked around, saw a small grove of trees a few metres away from the track they had been following and nodded towards them. 'I suppose that's as good a place to camp as any.'

Will and Horace exchanged relieved glances. Before Halt could change his mind, they dismounted and began to set up camp. Halt, now that he had given in to their concerns, decided he might as well take advantage of the situation. He found a fallen tree and sat down by it, resting his back against it and letting out a small sigh.