“Vix—” Scrabbling.

“The thumbs signal for death across the stands—” Vix pressed his fingers against the beating jugular—

And slammed into the sand as Arius knocked him loose with the side of one fist.

“He’s had enough,” said the Barbarian.

Vix blinked, as if coming out of a dream. Flavia’s son was on his knees, rasping for air. A wide shallow cut lay across his throat. “He was—he was going to kill me—”

“Go get patched up.”

Lady Flavia’s son didn’t need to be told twice. He took one look and limped off.

Arius took a deep breath and kicked Vix over onto his back.

“Hey.” Scrabbling upright. “I was just playing! I was in the Colosseum; they were all cheering me like they cheered you—”

The first blow knocked a tooth out of his head.

VIX puked twice on the way back to his father’s hut. Both times Arius waited until he was finished, then picked him up again and hauled him onward.

“I’m bleeding,” Vix said through puffy lips as Arius dumped him on the packed dirt floor of the vineyard hut.

“You’ll live.” Arius took stock of the injuries he’d inflicted on his son: one side tooth lost, jaw swollen, both eyes blacked, bloody nose, ribs marked by sandal prints. He winced inside, but clamped his teeth on it.

“You killed me,” Vix rasped. “You son of a bitch, you’ve killed me.”

“You deserved it,” returned the Barbarian, tossing more wood on the fire. “Arrogant little bastard.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, boy.”

Arius stripped off his sandals and settled down with his back against the wattled clay wall. He cored an apple with his dagger, eating off the point and wondering what the hell he was going to do next. He’d gotten a beating or two from his own father as a boy, but his dimly remembered mother had been the one to follow it up with the appropriate stern but kindly words. That was a mother’s job, wasn’t it? He didn’t have the slightest idea what to say. I wish Thea were here.

“Don’t I get any dinner?” Vix asked.

“No.”

“How about a bandage?”

“You want to be a gladiator? Sit there and bleed, and hope you get better.”

“Thanks.”

Arius flicked the apple core at the dog.

Vix dragged himself up, resting his back against the wall by his father. “I wouldn’t have hurt him.”

Arius turned over a few responses to that, but decided on silence.

“I was just playing!”

“No more lessons,” Arius said finally. “Not from me.”

“That’s not fair!”

“I won’t have a bully for a son.”

“You weren’t even around the first ten years,” Vix snarled.

“I’m around now, and I don’t teach bullies how to fight.”

Vix looked sullen.

“Just tell me something.” Arius rotated the knife blade, looking at the fire. “Do you hear a voice in your head, when you fight? A little black voice?”

Vix looked startled. Arius looked at him, searching for words, but found none. He was no good with words. They both looked away, stretching their legs toward the fire, and Vix groaned as a joint popped. “I hate you.”