Ella was staring at him with her mouth open. Lewis and Ebenezer went to her. Ed left them to it. They crouched down by the startled girl, jabbering away, trying to explain what was going on. She threw her arms round Ebenezer’s neck and hugged him tight. Ed was aware of everything slipping into chaos. Kids were getting out of their seats. Guards were stepping over the barrier and moving in on the grungy guy. Ella was babbling on about him being her friend. It seemed really important to her.

‘With me,’ Ed commanded and Lewis came over to him. Ebenezer scooped Ella up and followed. As Ed entered the arena, he spotted Sophie with her archers, ready to shoot.

‘Put your weapons down!’ he shouted.

She looked confused. Nobody knew what to do.

‘You remember Ella?’ Lewis called over to her. ‘This is her, right? This is who we been searching for.’

‘Oh my God.’ Sophie now climbed the barrier with some of her archers and they joined Ed in the middle of the arena. Ella was still rabbiting on and Ebenezer and Lewis were trying to make sense of it. Ed saw Arno look really furious for the first time as control was slipping through his fingers. Ed had to find a way to sort this without Arno losing face. The races were important.

The grungy guy on the horse was the key to this. Ed started walking towards him. Could he really be only a boy as Ella was claiming? Up close he looked even worse. His face had been torn apart; one eye was red and blind. The other eye seemed to be weeping, but was staring at Ed with a look of intense intelligence. And Ed felt like it was looking at him from out of his past. As Ed got to the horse, the guy suddenly slipped out of his saddle and grabbed him. For a second Ed thought he was attacking him, and then he realized the guy was sobbing. Ed relaxed. The guy whispered one word in his ear.

‘Ed …’

Ed was more astonished than ever. It was a voice from a million years ago. Cracked and croaky, but unmistakably the same voice. The voice of a dead person.

And then the dead person let him go and got back on his horse and rode over to Arno and the King.

‘My name is Malik,’ he said, loud enough so that all could hear, and then he went on, his voice growing in strength and clarity as it got louder and louder. ‘I am fifteen years old. I went to Rowhurst School in Kent and I grew up in Slough. I am a boy. I am one of you. This is how I look and you are all just going to have to get used to it.’

He rode back into the middle of the arena, raised his arms and yelled at the watching kids.