Zeus’s frown of puzzlement darkened toward a scowl of distaste. “Setting that creature on Kratos without my permission smacks of willfulness on the part of your brother, but there is little I can do to help Kratos. The sea is the kingdom of my brother Poseidon. To even so much as strike the creature dead with my thunderbolt would be an insult to his sovereignty-and Poseidon is sensitive about his dignity, as I’m sure you recall.”

“I do, Father. Believe me, I do. But it’s not aid in this particular crisis that I seek. Kratos can handle this creature without your help.”

Zeus’s brow lifted. “Considerable faith you place in his abilities.”

“My lord father, I believe he is nearly indestructible. But I have plans of my own for him, plans that he cannot fulfill if he must constantly fight off my brother’s monstrous legions. I ask only that you forbid Ares any future assaults.”

Zeus sat up straight on the throne, gathering about himself the radiant mantle of kingship. He turned toward the fountain. “Where is Ares now?”

Rainbows in the mist swirled about to show Ares striding across a desert land like a volcano come to life. His hair and beard roiled with ever-burning flame, and the black of his armor darkened the sun. His every step crushed numberless men beneath his blood-soaked sandals as a mortal might tread upon ants.

“Where is he?” Zeus said. “What is he doing in that desolate Egyptian desert?”

“Spreading terror and destruction.”

“No doubt,” Zeus said with an appreciative chuckle. “It is a pity to interrupt his fun.”

The King of Olympus raised his mighty fist and drew in a breath so deep it altered storm patterns throughout the Mediterranean, then unleashed a single word:

“Ares.”

The image of the God of War twitched visibly and then threw a dark look back over one shoulder without replying. He deliberately returned to crushing humans.