He knew what he was doing from the moment he bent over, Alphena realized. He had decided how to destroy them before they even attacked.

Varus studied history and literature, making connections between separate events in a fashion that astounded scholars far older than he was. Alphena was interested not in books but in gladiators. That might be unladylike, but she had come to suspect that her own mind was as good as her brother's, or nearly so.

A successful fighter swam through his battles the way a hawk did the air. Alphena had never seen anyone in the amphitheater who displayed more liquid grace than this half-naked barbarian.

He's magnificent. He's as old as my father, but he moves like a weasel. A huge, powerful weasel.

The man wriggled his shoulders, loosening his muscles after the effort of moments before. His left arm was angry red, and blisters were popping up on the skin. Alphena thought he might rub the injury, but instead he merely shrugged and grasped another shelf of rock.

This time he rose from his knees instead of lifting with his back muscles. A quarter of the city toppled inward, shattering tower against tower to fill the streets with fragments.

The great slab rolled back. The man caught it, braced himself, then lifted it overhead. It must be as heavy as the cone of Vesuvius, Alphena thought.

She was as thrilled as she had been the afternoon she watched the swordsman Draco defeat seven netmen consecutively, a feat never before accomplished in the amphitheaters of Carce. He's magnificent!

The giant smashed the slab down onto what remained of the city. The vision was soundless, but pulverized dust exploded outward to settle on the sea and the surrounding forest promiscuously, like a gray pall.

The man turned his head. Alphena thought he was looking straight into the Tribunal. He smiled minusculely- At me!

– -and reached down for another mass of rock. The sea behind him bubbled, surging up the passage he had torn into the land.