...Aleck recognized the magically amplified voice: Apraxos. He looked around. "Where is he?"

   "Behind you," said Akaz.

   Aleck jumped, a pang of adrenaline coursing into his fingers. He turned and saw Apraxos, standing on an elevated balcony, surrounded by Herax guards.

   "The givers preach heresies and raise up false prophets!" screamed Minister Apraxos. The crowd roared like a windstorm. "And who is the falsest of their prophets?"

   The crowd chanted. Aleck couldn't make out the phrase they were repeating.

   "Yes, Blood Eagle!" said Apraxos. "Blood Eagle, who tried to unify the givers and failed!" The crowd cheered in agreement. "Blood Eagle, who perverted our sacred prophecy of the Cannibal-King, predicting a false savior that will never arrive! Who has led his forces against us, to no avail! Behold!"

   Alone on the sandy floor of the arena stood a huge, muscular, hairless man, covered in jagged patterns of red welts. He carried no weapons. A heavy muzzle of black leather hid the bottom half of his face.

   The crowd went berserk with shouting and drums, chanting Blood Eagle! Blood Eagle! The warriors on the rafts danced with excitement. Aleck saw one of them knocked overboard; he tumbled down through the air and landed on a spectator. Both lay unmoving.

   "Holy smokes," said Akaz, "It really is Blood Eagle."

   "You know him?" asked Aleck.

   "Sure," said Akaz. "That's auspicious. I knew you had Weird Luck, kid."

   "How do you mean?" asked Aleck.

   "He's the Second Herald," said Akaz. "Just who we need to see. Poor guy. It looks like they cut out his brandings."

   "They what?" asked Aleck.

   "Look at him," said Akaz. "He had patterns branded all over his body."

   "Branded?" exclaimed Aleck, looking down at the man in the arena.

   "Yeah," said Akaz. "Givers like fire. Branding gives them holy powers. Looks like Apraxos cut out his scars to rid him of his magic."

   Dumbfounded, Aleck looked back and forth in horror between Akaz and Blood Eagle.

   "I bet it didn't work," Akaz laughed to himself.

   Apraxos shouted again in his giant voice. "What shall we do with him?"

   The crowd chanted an unintelligible word over and over.

   "What shall we do with him?" repeated Apraxos.

   The crowd chanted, and Aleck realized they were shouting Troll, troll, troll.

   A huge humanoid figure lumbered onto the arena floor. A giant cleaver and long knife hung from its belt; overlapping scales of rusty metal armor jangled with its bow-legged stride. Its gnarled arms swung low, scraping massive fists across the sandy ground. Towering over Blood Eagle, the troll brandished the cleaver over its head and opened its tusked jaws in a trumpeting roar.

   Blood Eagle dove in close beside the troll, taking the knife from its belt as he ran past. He spun and chopped open the back of the troll's leg. The troll screamed in surprise and turned around, staggering, falling heavily to one knee. Blood Eagle sliced the troll's wrist, and the cleaver fell from its hand. It roared again. Blood Eagle shoved the knife in its eye to the hilt.

   The crowd fell silent. The troll knelt in place, swaying slightly. Blood Eagle pulled the knife from its eye-socket and used it to cut the muzzle away from his own face. Then, tossing the knife aside, he hefted the massive cleaver and laid it deep into the troll's throat. The troll toppled over backwards. Blood Eagle hauled the cleaver out of its neck and buried his face in the gaping wound. Silence hung over the Circus. Aleck blinked.

   Blood Eagle looked up, gore streaming down his face and over his chest. The angry red wounds covering his body had suddenly healed to pale scars. He snarled, showing rows of pointed teeth.

   The crowd burst into a thunderous mix of cheering and booing. Blood Eagle sprinted to the nearest wall of the arena. He heaved himself up at the feet of a Herax soldier....