g page offered Ann her
pistol first.

"Do ye remember your instructions?" he asked in a quavering voice that
was picked up for the vidcast by the microphone hung under his frock.

"Yes, thank you."

Ann held the pistol loosely at her side, and looked toward Jacques,
across the abyss of sixty feet.

With frozen fingers, Jacques accepted the other pistol from his squire,
and knew that he was out beyond the point of no returning.

But he did not, could not, know what he would do once the signal for the
execution was given. "Do not fail me again," Ann had pleaded. But what
had she meant? Even at this final moment her smile was as enigmatic as
ever.

The page and the squire retreated to their stations at the side of the
arena, this time moving hastily.

The Bailiff raised his black staff and pennant, held it poised until the
Chief Justice nodded, then lowered it with a flourish. A trumpet sounded
one high, clear note.

The signal had been given.

Jacques remained motionless, waiting for a sign from Ann. But she, too,
waited, her chin slightly lifted. What was she waiting for? What did she
expect from him?

In the stands, the breathing of a hundred thousand people was a rasping
sound.

And then Ann moved, so quickly that the surprise was complete. Her
pistol flashed up, fired while still in its arc. The bullet blasted the
air beside Jacques' ear, so close that for a fraction of a second he
thought he had been hit.

Ann's voice drifted across to him, across the stunned silence, and it
contained both a taunt and a plea:

"I won't miss next time, Jacques!"

And he knew she would not. He had seen too many guns fired not to
recognize technique. If she had learned to shoot that well, there was no
doubt she could have hit him the first time.

Jacques still couldn't fathom her motive, but there was no longer any
chance to consider it. His conscious mind wanted to let her fire again,
to put an end to this terrible dream. But the instinct of
self-preservation was too strong; the lessons at the FBIT academy had
been taught too well. Numbness went out of him, and he watched her eyes
for the telltale flicker that would give a split-second warning of her
next move.

The warning came, and he was ahead of it. His shot struck Ann high on
the right shoulder. Her second and last bullet ploughed into the dust
midway between them. She twisted around from the force of the impact,
and half slipped, half fell from the pedestal