Then the drum sounded. Voltan blinked and glanced to the crowd, locating the black-bearded Telors.

As the beats sounded out, the crowd, knowing of Rage's legend, began to clap their hands in time to the booming drum. Voltan returned his attention to Rage, and saw that the old gladiator was standing straighter now, and in his dark eyes there was a gleam where before there had been only weariness. Voltan swore. It was going to take longer to kill the old bastard now.

Rage took one deep breath, then advanced. 'Cara sends her love,' he said softly, his voice friendly and warm.

For a moment only Voltan froze. Then Rage was upon him. Voltan parried desperately, but Rage's sword tore into his belly, ripping up through a lung and out through his back. Voltan sagged against Rage, letting go of his sword and resting his head on his killer's shoulder.

'Clever . . . move,' he whispered.

'It needed to be, boy,' said Rage, lowering him to the ground.

The crowd erupted in applause, and a burst of cheering filled the stadium.

'I . . . think . . . they're glad to see me die.' Voltan forced a smile. 'You should . . . get those wounds stitched.'

'I'll wait awhile,' said Rage.

Voltan lay quietly for a moment. There was no pain, and he felt curiously at peace. 'Does . . . Cara . . . know about me?' he asked.

'No. Nor will she. She's a fine girl though, strong, courageous and loyal. Any man would be proud to be her father.'

'I would have been . . . had I known.'

Voltan's head rolled to the side. He found himself staring at the two execution stakes erected at the centre of the arena, rising like spikes from mounds of oil-soaked brushwood.

'She forgave me,' he whispered. But Rage did not hear him.

Bane sagged against the railing as Rage rose from beside the dead Voltan. The old gladiator raised his sword in salute to the emperor, then strode from the arena, thunderous applause ringing in his ears. Slaves ran out to grab the dead Voltan's heels and drag his body across the sand.

From the far end of the arena came a troop of soldiers, leading out two figures. The first was Nalademus. As he saw the stake he began to struggle, throwing himself to the ground. Soldiers hauled him up and dragged him towards the pyres. He screamed and shouted, and the crowd jeered.

A little way back came the Veiled Lady. She was small, and slim, her pale blue dress gleaming with oil. Two soldiers were holding her bare arms, but she did not struggle, and walked with her veiled head held high.

'Burn them! Burn them! Burn them!' chanted the crowd.

'I suppose', said Jasaray, 'that I should offer you another wish, since Rage has robbed you of your revenge. Ask and it shall be given to you. You want Voltan's estates, or other lands. Chests of gold perhaps.'