Golden Age (The Shifting Tides Book 1) (6 page)

‘Captain,’ Dion said warmly.

Amos frowned for a moment, then smiled as recognition lit up his visage. ‘Dion of Xanthos.’

‘It’s good to see you, Captain.’

‘I’m not with my men. You can call me Amos. What brings you here?’

‘The tremor. A piece of cliff broke off and now blocks the narrows. Our two nations are cut off from trade.’

Amos’s eyebrows registered surprise. ‘I was not aware. A dark night, that was. How fares Xanthos?’

‘It appears the quake struck Phalesia harder.’

Amos nodded. ‘We lost over a hundred souls.’ His brow furrowed. ‘And what do your magi say? Was it a punishment for deeds done, or an omen of darker days to come?’

‘You know Xanthos. The priests of Balal are consulted above all. The signs point to war.’ Dion gave a ghost of a smile. ‘My mother says that Mount Oden erupted and caused the tremor, with the gods having nothing to do with it at all.’

‘I won’t criticize the queen, but no Phalesian doubts the gods are telling us something.’ Amos frowned. ‘Some here say it was a punishment for the growing acceptance of eldren, others that it heralds a great threat to our nation.’

‘Whatever it was, my father and brother both train the men constantly.’ Dion hesitated. ‘The warship. Who are they?’

‘Ileans from across the sea. Their ship was damaged in the tremor. I met their commander, a man named Kargan. He’s paid the city for the use of the harbor and declares his intention to leave as soon as his repairs are finished.’

Dion sensed there was more. ‘But . . . ?’

‘It’s nothing.’ Amos was pensive for a moment. ‘Only that Kargan barely hides his contempt for our ways.’

‘I suppose he’s no emissary. To command a warship he must necessarily be a hard man.’

‘The oarsmen are all slaves.’ Amos shook his head. ‘Not a back without the scar of the whip.’

Dion didn’t mention the fact of the warship’s obvious superiority to the ships of Phalesia’s navy. He was a visitor here, and Amos was a military man.

‘How is Nikolas?’ Amos asked. ‘I hear your brother has a son?’

‘He’s well, a proud father. The boy is now seven. He has yet to be given a man’s name but he’s a strong lad.’

‘And your father?’

‘The king is well.’ Dion saw that before long it would be dark. ‘Amos . . . Do you know where I can find the first consul? This isn’t an official visit, but I need to speak with him.’

‘He’s praying at the Temple of Aldus; the first consul’s been spending a lot of time with the magi lately. Come, Dion of Xanthos. I’ll take you there.’

9

Amos led Dion back through the agora to the embankment. The wall dropped to the left as they followed the edge until they came to the cliff, and tilting his head back, Dion saw the flat plateau, a third the size of the agora, but his view was obstructed by the rock face and he could only make out some of the temple’s columns. As they waited at the base of the steps that wound up to the summit – it would be impolite to disturb the first consul at prayer – the two men looked out at the warship.

‘They call it a bireme,’ Amos said. ‘Named for the two banks of oarsmen.’

On the shore near their vessel several groups of Ileans sat around fires, plumes of smoke snaking into the sky. Their work was done for the day and the ship was no longer listing to one side.

‘Have any of them taken lodgings in the city?’

‘Not one. Kargan keeps a close eye on his men.’

‘Did you get much of a look at their soldiers?’

Amos nodded. ‘A dozen or so marines. They carry triangular wooden shields, spears, bronze and steel swords. Another six archers, although I’d say our bows are better.’

There was movement on the steps, and both Dion and Amos turned as they saw First Consul Aristocles descending alone. He was both thinner and balder than when Dion had last seen him, with white hair at the sides of his head where his scalp wasn’t bare. His brow was furrowed, and he appeared lost in thought.

‘The night of the tremor, the eternal flame at the temple went out,’ Amos murmured. ‘Yet the wind wasn’t strong.’

Aristocles was panting by the time he reached them. In unison, Dion and Amos both bowed.

‘First Consul,’ Amos said. ‘Dion, son of King Markos of Xanthos, is here.’

‘First Consul,’ Dion said as he bowed. ‘I’m pleased to see Phalesia has weathered the night the ground shook and appears little harmed.’

‘We are harmed, Dion of Xanthos,’ Aristocles said wearily. ‘Be sure of that. How fares Xanthos?’

‘The city is well, as is my father the king. He doesn’t know I’m here, but if he did I’m certain he would send his regards.’

‘He’s unaware that you are here?’ Aristocles’ eyebrows arched. ‘Then why are you here?’

‘I apologize, but my visit was hasty. The narrows have been blocked by a piece of cliff, fallen into the water. Until the passage is cleared there can be no trade between Xanthos and Phalesia.’

The first consul nodded abruptly. ‘I have many things on my mind right now.’

‘I thought perhaps the eldren—’ Dion began.

‘Enough about the eldren,’ Aristocles interjected, scowling.

Dion immediately saw that he’d timed his arrival poorly. ‘I can see you’re busy, First Consul. I apologize for arriving unannounced. Perhaps we can discuss this another time.’

Aristocles ran a hand over his face. ‘No, it is I who should apologize, Dion of Xanthos. I will speak with you, but now I must go and discuss an important matter with one of my fellow consuls. You will rest tonight at my villa and we will discuss what brings you here.’

Chloe was in the kitchen unpacking the day’s purchases at the market with Aglea, a stout servant with white hair tied at the back of her head. As she unwrapped a hunk of goat’s meat while Aglea added coals to the cooking hearth, Chloe’s mind was elsewhere. She was worried about her father, who was brooding in the reception with a cup of red wine. He was more careworn than usual of late, and not for the first time she wished she was a man, so she could help him with his work at the Assembly.

She heard old Hermon speaking in low, respectful tones and then her father’s louder voice. ‘Ah, I had completely forgotten. Of course, show him in.’

A stranger’s voice greeted her father and then Aristocles called out. ‘Chloe? Come here. We have a guest.’

Chloe exited the kitchen and stopped in her tracks. The young man from the sailboat earlier in the day was looking at her and smiling. She had barely paid attention to him before, but she realized now that the tunic he was wearing marked him out as no common sailor.

He had short, unruly, sandy hair and tanned skin, with an oval face and sunburned lips. His square jaw was clean-shaven and his build was lean and athletic. Intelligent brown eyes sparkled as his smile broadened.

‘Chloe, you remember Dion, King Markos of Xanthos’s youngest son? Dion, my daughter Chloe.’

‘Lady.’ Dion gave a short bow.

‘The last time you two met you were quite young, is that correct?’

‘It was six years ago,’ Dion said, still smiling. His expression was full of mischief; he was enjoying her discomfort. ‘I was fourteen.’

‘Which means Chloe would have been thirteen.’

‘I’m sure she doesn’t even recognize me,’ Dion said.

Despite herself, Chloe reddened, then she became angry, but she fought to keep her expression calm.

‘She has certainly grown,’ Dion said. ‘Your daughter has become a beautiful woman, First Consul.’

‘I do remember you,’ Chloe said tightly. ‘You were always curious, if I recall correctly. But curiosity can cause harm, particularly when there are grave matters at hand.’

‘Daughter!’ Aristocles rebuked. ‘What an odd thing to say. Dion, I apologize for any offence.’

‘None taken,’ Dion said lightly.

‘Chloe, fetch wine would you? Actually no, have Aglea serve the wine. Come and sit with us. Please take a seat, Dion. We shall dine informally at the high table. I know you Xanthians don’t object to breaking bread with female company.’

‘I’m honored, First Consul. It’s kind of you to invite me to your home.’

Chloe issued instructions to Aglea and then sat at the table, opposite Dion, who was looking out the window at the terrace. Aristocles sat at the head of the table and Dion at his right hand. Both men rose before sitting down at the same time as Chloe.

‘Now, Dion, I know you said the city is well, but how did Xanthos truly fare in the tremor?’

‘Many were frightened and still are, but we were fortunate. A few fallen stones . . . little more.’

Aglea came to pour the wine. Chloe drank to disguise her discomfort, for Dion’s eyes kept turning to her before flicking back to her father. She sipped too much, and the tart liquid burned the back of her throat.

She started to cough uncontrollably. Both her father and Dion looked alarmed.

‘Daughter?’ Aristocles started to rise.

‘No—’ Chloe held up a hand. ‘I’m fine. Aglea? Water, please.’

Some gulps of water soothed her chest, and as her color returned Dion once more grinned at her maddeningly.

Aristocles asked Dion about his family while Aglea served a cold meal of cheese, fruits, and olives, along with bread baked earlier in the day. Dion ate heartily but drank sparingly, praising Aristocles for the meal.

‘I must also express my admiration for how quickly the damage to the city is being repaired.’

Aristocles nodded sagely. ‘Soon enough it will be as if the tremor never happened.’

‘The repairs to your own home are stout and strong.’

Aristocles frowned and then he chuckled. ‘You have a keen eye. Yes, there was damage to my home. The stoutest walls are no protection from the gods.’ He turned grave. ‘My youngest, Sophia, was almost killed.’

Dion’s eyes widened. ‘First Consul . . . I had no idea.’

‘You could not have known,’ Aristocles said. ‘Now—’

‘One of the eldren saved her,’ Chloe interjected. ‘Yet some of the consuls speak as if they are our enemies.’

Aristocles sighed. ‘Daughter . . .’

‘Some are of that opinion in my father’s court,’ Dion said as he regarded her. ‘My mother always said otherwise.’

‘Enough of politics,’ Aristocles said shortly. ‘Now, Dion, tell me again what brings you here.’

‘The narrows are blocked. I thought perhaps you might be able to enlist the help of one of the eldren. In serpent form, I believe one of them could move the obstruction.’

Aristocles rubbed his chin. Dion hesitated, then continued.

‘But there is something else I wish to speak with you about, First Consul.’

‘Go on.’

‘The warship.’

Silence filled the room. From Aristocles’ expression it was clear that the mere mention of it had struck a nerve.

‘What of it?’ Aristocles asked.

‘A dozen more like it, arranged in a single force—’

‘I am well aware of the danger.’

‘First Consul, I don’t presume to question you in your city. I simply want your advice. What should I tell my father?’

‘Tell him that Phalesia survived the quake. And tell him that with the Ileans possessing ships as powerful as the one in our harbor, we may all need to look to our defenses.’

‘You met the captain?’

Aristocles hesitated. ‘He made no secret of his contempt. He also expressed a great deal of interest in the sacred ark.’

Dion rubbed his chin. ‘It
is
gold. A tempting prize to have on display.’

‘But a source of inspiration to the people,’ Chloe interjected. ‘A reminder to live a good life . . . a just life, according to a common moral code that binds us all.’

Dion nodded. ‘It’s important to Xanthos also. I thank you, First Consul,’ he said gravely. ‘That’s all I needed to know.’

‘Let’s talk of something else,’ Chloe said. ‘You work too hard, Father.’

‘Of course,’ Dion said. ‘The narrows?’

Aristocles looked at Chloe. She was reluctant to ask Zachary for still more help, but knowing he was always eager to maintain the peace between their races, she was sure he would agree.

Chloe nodded. ‘We can send a swift rider to the Wilds.’

‘Thank you,’ Dion said to Chloe, his expression sincere.

He was looking so directly at Chloe that for some reason she felt herself break the stare and look down at the table, which had the effect of making her angry. When she glanced up and scowled at him his face turned puzzled.

‘Dion,’ Chloe said, eager to take the attention away from herself. ‘Tell me, can you ever see Xanthos adopting our system of consuls?’

Aristocles’ eyes lit up as he saw an opportunity to discuss his favorite topic, but Dion neatly avoided the trap.

‘I am the second son,’ he said apologetically. ‘It’s something better discussed with my father or brother. However, First Consul, I am a keen student of music and even in Xanthos we’ve heard that your daughter is a skilled player of the flute.’

Chloe scowled. ‘It’s late,’ she said shortly.

The twinkle had now returned to Dion’s eyes. ‘That’s a shame indeed.’

‘Daughter, don’t be rude to our guest,’ said Aristocles.

Accepting the inevitable, Chloe rose and fetched the copper flute from the chest in her bedchamber. Returning a moment later, she unrolled the leather covering, picked up the flute and held it expertly, running her eyes fondly over the burnished red metal.

She placed the fingers of both hands over several holes before bringing the mouthpiece to her lips.

Despite Dion’s entrapment, she wasn’t nervous. She had played to far more important audiences than a king’s youngest son.

She performed a soft melody that was as old as Phalesia, a sad song with slow notes that hung in the air and required a full breath to render. As she played her eyes were half closed, and she saw Dion look at first surprised and then appraising as the melody gained complexity.

The song traveled up and down the scale, faster now, like flowing water, but simple and soulful, a tale of tragedy that Chloe had seen make grown men cry.

The young man from Xanthos now gazed past Chloe’s shoulder, staring out the window, in the direction of the deep blue sea.

Chloe thought Dion looked worried.