Vespasian smiled. “Good,” he said. “Then we will do something else today that the crowd won’t expect. We will publicly honor the stalkers by watching them do what they do best.”

When he glared back at the Games Master, Vespasian could see the astonishment in the man’s eyes.

“Force one hundred Shashidan skeens into the arena at a time,” Vespasian ordered. “Bring no females, for we need them for procreation. Then I want fifty of the Twenty-third’s Blood Stalkers turned loose on them. When the first group of skeens is dead you will bring in one hundred more, and so on. See to it that all the skeens are armed. I doubt that we will lose many stalkers, and it will add to the flavor of the first act. Tell the stalkers that they are not to start the bloodletting until they erect their legion standards and form ranks before my box.”

The Games Master couldn’t believe his ears. Before today, stalkers had never been allowed participation in the games. Although they remained partly human, they were also products of the craft and largely uncontrollable by anyone except an experienced magic practitioner.

“I understand, Sire,” Gaius finally answered. “It will be as you order.”

Vespasian finally released his grip on the man’s wrist. “Good,” he said. “See to it at once. And have the crowd informed of the program changes their emperor has made.”

Vespasian didn’t need to tell the slave twice. As fast as his legs could carry him, Gaius left the emperor’s private box and hurried toward the arena floor.

Seated among his fellow clerics, Gracchus smiled as he heard Vespasian give the unexpected orders about the skeens and the Blood Stalkers. Well done, he thought. I couldn’t have produced a cleverer countermove myself.