A Nadir warrior stepped forward and sent the boy sprawling with a well-aimed kick.

Waylander drifted once more, his eyes closed. His heart sank as the vision returned of the child held high by the adoring father. With the kiss the boy had been comforted and had started to laugh, copying the King as he waved to the crowd. Tiny Niallad, the hope for tomorrow. One day, thought Dakeyras then, I will serve him as my father serves Orien.

'Waylander,' called a voice and he opened his eye. There was no one close, but the voice came again, deep in his mind. 'Close your eyes and relax.' Waylander did as he was bid, and his pain vanished as he sank into a deep sleep. He found himself standing on a bleak hillside under alien stars, bright and close and perfectly round. Two moons hung in the sky – one silver, one shot with blue and green like stained marble. On the hillside sat Orien, younger now and more like the king of Waylander's memory.

'Come, sit with me.'

'Have I died?'

'Not yet, though it is close.'

'I failed you.'

'You tried – a man can ask for no more.'

'They killed the woman I loved.'

'And you took your revenge. Was it sweet?'

'No, I felt nothing.'

'That is a truth you should have realised many years ago when you hunted down the men who slew your family. You are a weak man, Waylander, to be so manipulated by events. But you are not evil.'

'I killed your son. For money.'

'Yes. I had not forgotten.'

'It seems so futile to say that I am sorry, yet I am.'

'It is never futile. Evil is not like a rock, static and immobile – it is a cancer that builds on itself. Ask any soldier who has been to war. You never forget the first man you kill, but not all the gold in the world could get you to remember the tenth.'

'I can remember the tenth,' said Waylander. 'He was a raider named Kityan, a half-breed Nadir. I followed him to a small town east of Skein …'

'And you killed him with your hands after putting out his eyes with your thumbs.'

'Yes. He was one of those who slew my wife and children.'

'Tell me, why did you not search for Danyal among the dead?'

Waylander turned away and swallowed hard. 'I have seen one woman I loved after the killers left her. I could not witness another such scene.'

'Had you found the strength to search, you would not now be tied to a Nadir pole. She lives, for Durmast rescued her.'

'No?'

'Would I lie, Waylander?'

'Can you help me escape?'

'No.'

'Then I will die.'

'Yes,' said Orien sadly, 'You are dying. But it is happening painlessly.'

Waylander nodded, then his head jerked round. 'You mean now?'

'Of course.'

'Return me, damn you!'

'You wish to return to agony and death?'

'It is my life, Orien. Mine ! I have known pain and I can stand it, but until the moment of death I will not surrender. Not to you, not to the Nadir, not to anyone. Return me!'

'Close your eyes, Waylander, and prepare yourself for pain.'

Waylander groaned as the agony touched him, the sound tearing his dry, swollen throat. He heard a man laugh and opened his eyes to find a crowd had formed about him.

The young man, Gorkai, was grinning widely. 'I told you he was alive. Good! Give him a drink – I want him to feel every cut.' A squat warrior forced Waylander's head back, pouring water from a stone jug to his cracked lips. He could not swallow at first, but allowed the liquid to trickle into his dry throat.

'That's enough!' said Gorkai. 'Know this, assassin: we are going to cut your body very lightly and then smear you with honey. After that we bury you beside an ant's nest. You understand?' Waylander said nothing. His mouth was full of water and every few seconds he allowed a small amount to ease his throat.

Gorkai drew a curved knife and was moving forward when the sound of galloping hooves stopped him, causing him to turn. The crowd parted as a rider thundered into the camp and Waylander looked up, but the sun was directly behind the horseman.

The Nadir scattered as the rider approached and Gorkai, shading his eyes against the sun, screamed, 'Kill him!' The Nadir ran for their weapons; Gorkai gripped his knife tightly and turned on Waylander.

The blade rose … But a crossbow shaft punched through his temple and he pitched to the earth. The horseman dragged on the reins beside the pole and a sword slashed through the ropes above Waylander's wrists. He slumped forward, recovered and staggered for the horse as two Nadir ran forward with blades in hand. Dropping his crossbow, the horseman hauled Waylander across his saddle; then he lashed out with his sword and the Nadir leapt back. Arrows flashed by the rider and he kicked his mount into a canter.

The pommel of the saddle cut into Waylander's side and he almost fell as the horse galloped towards the hills. He watched the tents flash by and twice saw Nadir archers bend their bows. The animal was breathing hard as they reached the trees. Behind them Waylander could hear the thunder of hooves and the furious screams of the pursuers. The rider dragged his mount to a stop in a hollow, then threw Waylander to the ground. He landed hard, then came to his knees; his hands were still tied.

Cadoras leaned over him as Waylander pushed out his arms; his sword sliced down and the ropes parted. Waylander glanced round, seeing that his own horse was tethered to a bush, his clothes and weapons tied to the saddle. By the trees was the naked corpse of the nadir warrior he had slain the night before. He stumbled to his horse, pulled clear the reins and, with an effort, climbed into the saddle. Then they were off, hugging the tree-lined narrow trail.

Behind them the Nadir were closing and arrows flashed perilously close to the fugitives, then the two men were out of the trees and found themselves riding across open ground.

'I hope your horse can jump,' yelled Cadoras.

Waylander strained to see ahead, fear rising in him as he saw the trail end in a sudden drop. Cadoras spurred on. 'Follow me!' he shouted.

His huge grey gelding sailed over the chasm and Waylander dug his heels into his mount's flanks and followed. The jump was less than ten feet. Far below them a river rushed over white rocks. Cadoras' horse landed well, slithering on the scree; Waylander almost fell as his own mount leapt, but hung on grimly. The horse stumbled on the far side, but found its feet and carried its rider out of bowshot. Waylander swung in the saddle to see the nadir riders lining the chasm; the jump was too great for their ponies.

The two men headed deeper into the mountains, riding over rocks and through streams. Waylander swayed in the saddle, then lifted the canteen from the pommel and drank deeply. Turning, he pulled his cloak clear of the saddle rolls and swung it over his burning shoulders. Towards dusk, as they entered a thicker grove of trees, Cadoras suddenly pitched from his saddle. Waylander dismounted, tethered his horse and knelt by the fallen man. Only then did he see the three arrows that jutted from Cadoras' back. The man's cloak was drenched with blood. Gently Waylander eased him into a sitting position and Cadoras' head fell back against Waylander's chest. Glancing down, Waylander saw a fourth shaft deep in the man's left side.

Cadoras opened his eyes. 'Seems like a good place to camp,' he whispered.

'Why did you come back for me?'

'Who knows? Get me a drink.' With care Waylander eased the dying man against a tree before fetching a canteen. Cadoras drank deeply. 'I followed you. Found the Nadir you'd killed and saw that you had taken his clothes. I guessed then that you were engaged in some senseless act of folly.'

'You mean as senseless as attacking a Nadir camp singlehanded?'

Cadoras chuckled, then winced. 'Foolish, was it not? But then I've never been a hero. Thought I would try it just once – I don't think I'll ever do it again.'