Once the games got under way, the tunnels beneath the amphitheater flew into action. It was still morning and yet with so many of us, the humid air rose to boiling temperatures. Further dampening my hopes to escape, I was assigned to work on the upper level of a two-story lift to send the animals onto the arena floor. We were to push the bars around a rotating capstan that would gradually raise the animal’s cage. Once we got the animal to the right level, another group of slaves pulled the cage door open. The animal would instinctively walk the narrow plank toward the light, with no idea it was heading into a battle arena.

At first I refused to help. It wouldn’t stop the venatio, but at least it would allow my conscience to sleep at night. Then I heard a snap and instantly felt a sharp sting on the back of my leg. I collapsed to one knee and turned to see a supervisor below us with a long whip in his hand.

“Get up, you fool!” a nearby slave hissed at me. “Do you think they won’t kill you?”

On the contrary, I was certain they would try. Remembering Caela, I stood and took my place on the capstan. Three slaves worked alongside me with another four men turning the same capstan below us. Despite their warnings, the lifting seemed easier than it should have been, and gradually the other men fell away. Without them, it became hard, and I was moving slower than before, but I was doing it.

One of them said to me, “How is a boy your age strong enough to do the work of eight men?”

I didn’t have an answer for him. No doubt my years in the mines had made me strong, perhaps stronger than many men. But not eight of them. I felt the warmth of the bulla again, flowing into my back and arms. If it was giving me strength, then it meant I was doing more than just feeling the magic. I was using it. I pushed the bars again, amazed at the surge of energy. Maybe it was only borrowed strength — or stolen strength, since I knew full well the bulla didn’t belong to me — but I liked the feel of it.

There were dozens of other lifts, all of them working at the same speed, constantly delivering new animals into the arena to fight. I tried not to listen to the noises above, and hated every second of what I was being forced to do.

I worked solidly until the announcement went out that the venatio was over. The animals still alive were being allowed to remain in the arena for the next event. That was the one in which Caela would participate. We were almost out of time.

I turned to the man next to me. “What happens now?”

“It’s lunchtime for the spectators,” he answered with a smile. “Execution of the criminals. It’s too bad you can’t be up top to see the show to follow — we have an elephant trained to walk a tightrope. It —”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, but I asked anyway. “How are the criminals executed?”

He shrugged. “Various ways, depending on the games. Sometimes they make it quick, like a beheading, but the people always enjoy it more when the criminal’s death is part of the entertainment. Today they’ll use the jungle setting for more fun. They’ll set the criminals loose and unarmed. Some animals up there might find them first, or I saw a bestiarius wandering around here too. I imagine he’ll go in and hunt for the survivors.”

“What about the griffin?” I asked. “What’s her role?”

The man smiled. “She’ll go in at the very end, as the finest of all animals versus the strongest of all animal hunters. Your griffin will have to lose of course — they’ll make sure of it — but it’s certain to be a great fight.”

No, there wouldn’t be any fight at all. I intended to do everything in my power to get her out of here.

Power. On my own, I could do nothing for Caela. But I had the bulla, and it had magic. All I had to do was figure out how to use it. I really was running out of time, though, and didn’t know where to begin.

“How many criminals are being executed today?” I asked.

“Not many. In fact, they’re bringing ’em in now.” The man pointed to the ramp where Roman soldiers were leading a small group forward. I counted two men, then a woman, and then — my jaw fell slack and might’ve landed on my chest.

The very last man was Sal.

Even from the distance between us, Sal’s eyes immediately locked on mine. He started shouting, so loud that from here I could hear every word. He pointed at me with one shackled hand. “I told you I never killed that slave boy!” he yelled. “I sold him to the venatio — he’s right over there!”

The soldier closest to him struck his cheek. “You’re here because General Radulf wants you punished.”

Blood ran down the corner of Sal’s mouth. “Radulf can have his boy — go get him, over there!”

By then, I had slipped out of sight. Sal took another hit for lying.

I couldn’t let Sal see me again — he’d talk until the soldiers eventually cornered me and it wouldn’t be hard for Sal to prove I was the boy Radulf wanted to find. Sal was a roach, and had abused every slave in the mines simply because he could. How many times had I wished to the gods he would get what he deserved?

But not today. Sal could have killed me for trying to escape the mines, but he didn’t. I’d certainly given him plenty of reasons to do it before then as well. I had to help him now.

The criminals were unshackled, then quickly sent up into the arena. I heard the hisses from the audience when they appeared, and I knew that one man was almost immediately attacked by an animal because I heard his screams for help right above my head and the cheering that followed. It was horrible, but at least it wasn’t Sal’s voice.

If Caela and I did not leave in the next few minutes, she’d be taken to the arena and hunted down. Then Felix would come for the bulla, and for me. If we left now, we both had a chance to live, and yet I could not leave knowing I had let Sal go to his death.

Caela would have to help save him. I didn’t know how to convince her to help, but I had to try. I started running to Caela’s cage, but was blocked by two soldiers on my way. Felix was with them.

“I’m sorry,” Felix said. “Please know that I didn’t want this.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“This!” One soldier grabbed my arms while another knocked the flat end of his sword behind my knees and sent me to the ground. I cursed at him and even threw out a punch until he swatted my mouth and got me in the servile position they wanted.

While they bound my hands in front of me, Felix said, “If it makes you feel better, I’m getting no reward for the bulla. The emperor wants the people to see the bestiarius take it from you after your death and present it to him. He thinks that if Rome has any enemies in the audience, it’s the best way for them to know he has the power now.”

“I’ve committed no crime,” I said, struggling against the ropes. A soldier behind me took exception to that and hit me in the back, forcing the breath from my chest.

“You committed several crimes,” Felix said. “You stole that bulla and tried to escape your master at the mine. And only yesterday, someone spotted you eating a stolen apple.”

I was still fighting, though I was quickly losing against the soldiers. “Those are all lies, Felix. You know they are!”

“Not all of them,” he said. “A slave who steals from an emperor’s treasure has committed treason. If that emperor is also a demigod, then it’s heresy. There is nothing I can do to save you.”

“What about Caela? She won’t cooperate for anyone but me.”

“We’re counting on that,” Felix said.