His breath caught as he saw that she held a sword, pointed at the guard, who was unarmed. It appeared that Dion had timed his arrival perfectly; he couldn’t have come a moment too soon. Chloe was making her own bid for freedom.

Dion left his hiding place. He was now exposed in bright daylight but Chloe’s attention was entirely on the bodyguard. Dion pulled an arrow out of his quiver and nocked it to the string of his bow. Knowing that a fast-moving shape draws the eye, he fought to keep his breathing deep and even, fighting the power of fear to remain steady as he descended, creeping down first one step and then another. He kept his eyes on his enemy the entire time. If he could kill this man his quest would be accomplished.

Dion circled around as he lost height, moving so that he would approach the tall warrior directly from behind. Chloe kept the tip of the sword pointed at her opponent as she said something to him; her attention was on anything but the gallery above.

Glancing back the way he’d come, Dion saw Anoush standing near the exit corridor, watching him with wide eyes. He made another wave to tell him to stay back.

He would need to make a good strike, firmly between the warrior’s shoulder blades. Dion narrowed the distance to forty paces, and then thirty. He was now on level ground, standing in a gap in the decrepit wooden fence, with no obstruction between him and his target.

He lifted his bow. He drew the string to his ear and stilled his breathing.

He fixed his gaze on the big warrior’s shoulders.

Dion prayed for a solid strike as he let the arrow fly.

‘Keep the point always on your enemy,’ Tomarys said. ‘Think of the tip as a shield as well as a weapon, as long as you have the sharp end between the two of you, you are defending yourself. Angle it slightly higher, you do not want the sword to be horizontal.’

Chloe complied, but the sword was heavier than it looked. Holding the hilt with both hands, she lifted the point.

‘Good,’ Tomarys said. ‘Now take a single step forward, leading with your front foot. Angle your body to the side so you are presenting a smaller target.’

Chloe followed his instructions and brought the sword closer to her opponent’s chest.

‘Now attack!’ Tomarys said.

As Chloe was about to thrust, she saw motion out of the corner of her eye.

Time stood still.

The bowman was in Ilean clothing: white tunic and trousers, common dress she might see on any of Lamara’s streets. His sandy hair marked him out as different, but there were many different peoples in the sun king’s capital. He stood just outside the wooden rail girding the arena floor, where a gap in the broken fence enabled ingress.