Golden Age (The Shifting Tides Book 1) (21 page)

32

The long warship passed the southern lighthouse and then the statue of the sun god before following the river to the harbor. The thudding of the drum was slow and stately; the oars plunged into the water with a walking pace. Roxana was giving the slaves some respite after the frantic chase. Behind the vessel was a rope, and attached to the rope was a long reptilian body.

Two days had passed since the hunt. Dion was looking forward to a decent night’s rest when he returned to the House of Algar. Though the room was expensive, and there were simpler lodgings close to the harbor, he still had to find Chloe.

As the
Anoraxis
approached the shore, heading for a narrow stretch of beach between two other biremes, Roxana joined Dion at the rail.

‘So tell me, Dion of No-land, where did you learn to shoot a bow like that?’ She turned an inquiring gaze on him.

‘My father was a great warrior, and my brother follows in his footsteps,’ Dion said. ‘I tried, but I could never use a sword.’ He shrugged. ‘So I learned archery. I practiced for years. My brother helped me get instruction from the best archers and I became good.’

‘Did you make your father proud?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘My father thinks archery is for commoners.’

The words were out of his mouth before he could take them back, but Roxana only grinned. ‘Well at least I can make use of your skill.’

Dion sought to change the subject. ‘The wildran’s corpse,’ he said. ‘What do you do with it?’

‘We’ll be able to make leather and lamp oil, though the flesh is rancid.’

He nodded and scanned the deck. ‘I should lend a hand.’

Dion felt her eyes on him as he left, but then the vessel was beaching and everyone on board was busy as they gathered all the equipment and supplies on the upper deck before disembarking and hauling it onto the shore.

With their work done, Dion waited with the other marines as they formed up with firm sand under their feet.

Roxana came and looked them over. ‘Well done, men. You’ve earned your pay. Return to your billets and come back tomorrow morning for practice. Archers, I saw some of those shots go wild. I want you to work until you strike targets at fifty paces nine times out of ten. Soldiers, not all wildren we hunt are serpents. Hone your weapons. I want each of you to spar with every other marine in our group. Dismissed.’

The marines dispersed and Roxana issued instructions to the master of the oars and the other officers. Dion started to follow his companions up to the city, when a gruff voice called his name.

‘You still have an interest in shipbuilding?’ Roxana asked.

Dion felt a thrill rise as he nodded. ‘I do.’

‘Then follow me.’

She led him to the sheds at the harbor’s far end, where he had first met her at one of the biremes under construction. He once more saw the supports holding the vessel in the air over the tiered depression in the ground. It was late afternoon, and the workers had gone for the day, meaning that the two of them were alone.

‘Understand anything about carpentry?’ she asked.

Dion smiled. ‘Not much.’

‘Know what a mortise and tenon joint is?’ When he didn’t respond, she continued. ‘Imagine you’re trying to fit two pieces of wood together at an angle. You need something strong to hold them together; a few wooden dowels aren’t enough to do the trick. Come.’ She walked down the outside of the ship, weaving around the supports, until she came to the ribs on the hull. ‘See here? The wood fits seamlessly together. The best way to understand it is to think of the parts of a man and woman.’ She grinned. ‘We shape the end to give this plank here’—she touched one of the horizontal
pieces of what would become the deck—‘a tooth . . . an append
age . . . a man’s knob. Whereas this rib here’—Roxana slapped the wood—‘we gouge so that we have a hole. Understand?’

Dion ran his eyes over the warship, and now that he was looking, he could see where every joint had been carefully fitted to connect one piece of timber to another. ‘How long are the teeth?’

‘At least as long as what you have in your trousers.’ She chuckled. ‘Sometimes a lot longer.’

‘Where do you get the timber?’

‘The pine comes from central Salesia. We also use oak for extra strength.’

‘How is the wood warped?’

‘Heat. We soak the timber then bend it over iron.’

The more Dion learned, the more there was to learn. The carpenters in Xanthos would know most of what Roxana was telling him. But to make one of these ships, a bireme, would require intimate knowledge of stresses and forces, combined with precise measurement and, most of all, experience.

‘The hull is built first, completely finished before we work on the decking and the interior.’ Roxana looked at the vessel proudly. ‘She’s given a shallow draft not just so we can beach her, but also so she’s agile and can turn quickly.’

‘How far away is this one from completion?’ Dion asked. He could see that the hull was close to finished, although much of the exterior planking still needed to be laid over the ribs.

‘Another six months,’ she said. ‘At least.’

Roxana frowned as she walked along the vessel’s belly, dodging around the supports and examining the work. ‘I need to speak with the overseer,’ she said. ‘No more forays for a time. It looks like I’m needed here.’ She glanced back at him. ‘Dion . . . If you want to, you can help here for a time. No extra pay, though.’ She smiled.

‘I’d like that.’

‘Come back tomorrow. You deserve a rest.’

Dion nodded. ‘I’ll see you then.’

She grinned. ‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’ He frowned. Roxana’s smile broadened. ‘Your bonus. Go visit the paymaster. Ask at the mess, they’ll tell you how to find him.’

Dion was surprised to find Anoush waiting for him outside the fenced-off area, hopping from foot to foot. The boy’s round face broke into a beaming smile as he saw him emerge.

‘You killed one? I saw you come in. You got a bonus, yes?’

‘I did.’ Dion smiled.

Anoush followed him as he entered the city. ‘Anything you need, master? Anything I can do for you, anything at all? You need a woman? You need new clothes?’

Dion tried to discourage him, but the orphan continued to follow as he skirted the bazaar and climbed to the upper city, entering the wealthy quarter around the palace. He climbed the main boulevard that would take him to the guesthouse, a wide street with steps at regular intervals. Well-dressed Ileans in flowing robes passed him on both sides while the occasional signboard above an entrance marked jewelers and dressmakers.

Dion absently scanned the street ahead. Two sun priests chatted as they walked in the direction of the palace. An old merchant argued in front of his shop with a scowling noble. Further still, a huge man –
one of the biggest men Dion had ever seen – walked alongside a dark-haired woman in Salesian clothing with a blue shawl on her shoulders. Despite her fine clothing, she carried a rough hemp sack.

‘Anoush, I—’ Dion was in the process of telling the boy that after he paid Algar, there wouldn’t be much money left in his purse.

But when Dion saw the distant woman he stopped in his tracks. He then began to hurry.

‘What is it, master?’

Quickening his steps, Dion almost broke into a run as Anoush scurried to keep up with him. He passed the people arguing and weaved around the two priests. The street forked and the woman and her escort took the right fork toward the palace.

As they turned, the big man looked directly at Dion, who shielded his eyes, pretending to be searching for someone. The tall man’s eyes dismissed him and the pair continued.

The young woman’s face was in profile for the briefest instant. Dion saw pale skin and an upturned nose. He took note of the flowing dark hair to her waist and her slim figure.

Dion immediately knew he was looking at Chloe, daughter of Aristocles, the first consul of Phalesia.

Taking the right fork at the top of the boulevard, he continued to follow.

The next street was short and opened out onto the wide road that skirted the wall of the sun king’s palace. The warrior kept close to Chloe as they walked; without a doubt he was there to guard her and ensure she didn’t escape. Dion knew that if the man turned around he would see him, and his suspicions had already been raised.

‘Who are they, master?’

‘Hush,’ Dion said, waving his hand behind him. ‘Stay quiet.’

Dion ran plan after plan through his head but discarded each in turn. Chloe and her escort were a hundred paces ahead and would soon be at the palace gates. He had his bow, but it was an impossible shot. Even a well-placed arrow might not finish off Chloe’s grim-looking warden.

He finally hung back as the pair approached the gates to the palace, putting his back to the wall as they passed the guards and entered.

Chloe looked well and unharmed, but she was under guard. She was now gone from him.

‘What is it, master? Do you know her?’

Dion thought furiously. He couldn’t be in several places at once. Until he had a plan, he couldn’t jeopardize his position with Roxana.

‘Anoush.’ He crouched, looking the boy in the eyes. ‘I have a task for you. I want you to watch the palace. Be careful not to be seen, but get to know everyone who goes in and out of those gates. Can you do that?’

Anoush nodded vigorously. ‘Of course.’

‘If you see that woman again, give her a message. Tell her that the curious sailor is at the House of Algar.’

He made Anoush repeat the phrase and nodded. ‘Good. And follow her. I want to know where she goes.’

‘Yes, master.’

Dion handed Anoush one of the silver coins he’d been given by the paymaster. ‘Are you sure you can do this? Do you need more money?’

‘It is too much,’ Anoush said. ‘Thank you, thank you. I will begin watching right away.’

As the boy scampered away, Dion pondered as he returned to the nearby guesthouse. Algar asked him for more money after his absence, taking most of what he had. He wondered if he should get cheaper lodgings, but his instinct was to stay close to the palace.

He had found the first consul’s daughter, and she was apparently allowed into the city. Anoush would keep watch for him. Dion now wondered how he would deal with Chloe’s guard . . .

33

Chloe sat on her bed pallet, grinding one of the flower pods, her eyes unfocused as she thought about something else altogether.

She shivered as she relived the fight in the tight alleyway. She remembered her terror and helplessness; she’d been completely incapable of defending herself.

She never wanted to feel that way again.

Tomarys sat with his back against the wall nearby, his broad face inscrutable as ever. He watched her for a time as she worked, before looking away.

Chloe frowned as a sound filled the air: the staccato rhythm of footsteps. Both she and Tomarys glanced at the thin slit high on the wall that was the closest window. The din was rising from outside the palace. Many men were marching. It grew in volume until it became a thunder of clumping feet.

‘What is it?’ Chloe asked Tomarys.

He tilted his head. ‘I do not know. Do you wish me to find out?’

‘No. I’ll find out.’

She set the bowl on the ground near her bed pallet – the sack of pods was hidden safely underneath – and rose to her feet. Since first speaking with Princess Yasmina, further conversation had been difficult, but Chloe was persistent, and the constant sound of marching provided her with an opening.

But the princess was gone. The open chest beside her bed pallet was empty, not an item of clothing within. Her bed was made, crisp and fresh. The princess’s place in the room was now like just like any unoccupied corner. It was as if she’d never been there.

Chloe wandered nonetheless, peering around every lattice screen and scanning the walls, empty except for the murals of painted flowers. She asked two or three slaves as she passed, but they only shook their heads.

She tried with another slave girl sweeping the floor. ‘Do you know where I can find the Princess Yasmina?’ The girl shook her head, looking fearfully at Chloe, turning away as she resumed her work.

Perplexed, Chloe left the expansive chamber and ventured out into the hall. She walked directly to the eunuch who had taken her clothes when she first arrived. He stood just inside the curtained main entrance to the women’s quarters, scowling as she approached.

‘I can’t find the Princess Yasmina,’ she said. ‘Do you know where she is?’

‘I know.’

When he didn’t elaborate, Chloe frowned. ‘Tell me.’

‘Her brother in Shadria is raising a revolt against Ilea. Though her father claims no part of it, the sun king considers the family to have broken their bond. Her head has been sent to her father in rebuke.’

Chloe put her hand to her mouth. She remembered the imperious princess, barely into her teens, so certain of her superior station and so reluctant to discuss escape.

‘Did she . . . ?’ She swallowed. ‘Was it quick?’

The eunuch spoke impassively. He took no pleasure in it, but nor did he soften his words for Chloe’s benefit. ‘The king of kings is angry. Her eyes were gouged out and ears and nose sliced off. Only then was she beheaded. Ilea sends a strong message to her family in Shadria.’

The eunuch turned as a palace guard came to the entrance. He held the curtain aside as the soldier looked within.

‘The king of kings asks for the girl.’ The soldier nodded his head in Chloe’s direction. ‘Come,’ he said. ‘Do not keep him waiting.’

The guard escorted Chloe to Solon’s personal quarters. His color was good and he showed none of his prior weakness, as he stood tall, arms raised as a steward slipped a long shirt of glittering metal rings over his head.

He dropped his arms as she entered and regarded her with his penetrating gaze.

‘Chloe of Phalesia,’ he said, speaking with precise syllables. ‘I have a rebellion in Shadria. The leader of this rebellion, the brother of the late Princess Yasmina, is trying to build an army in the great desert in the south. He has seized gold that was on its way back to Lamara. It was going to be sufficient to complete my pyramid.’ His voice lowered to a soft growl. ‘I need it back.’

‘You must go yourself, king of kings?’ Chloe asked.

‘This I must do. Until my last breath, my commanders will know that I lead.’

‘Then I wish you success.’

He smiled without mirth. ‘I am sure you do. It is to your own best interests, and that of your homeland, that I am successful.’

The rest of his threat hung in the air. If the sun king couldn’t regain his gold, he would need to find some elsewhere. The golden ark in Phalesia, melted, molded, and beaten thinner than the finest silk, would cover hundreds of the pyramid’s stones.

‘I need to know,’ Solon said. ‘Can you make enough of the tea for the journey?’

She saw a chance to get some important information. ‘How long will you be away for, lord?’

‘Either the rebels will flee before we can catch them, or we will destroy them to a man. In either case, I hope to return in two weeks, perhaps three.’

She nodded. ‘I can make you the tea. But you will need to sweeten it yourself with honey and lemon. It will use up most of my stock, and there are few of the tulips I need in the city.’

‘The taste will not concern me.’ He waved a hand, then was pensive for a moment. ‘I am pleased with you, girl. And you have proven yourself trustworthy. While I am gone you may continue to go to the bazaar to find the things you need. I will make sure your bodyguard has silver.’

Chloe bowed.

The sun king dismissed her with a nod and the guard escorted her back to the women’s quarters. As Chloe reflected on Princess Yasmina’s fate she sat on her bed and asked Tomarys to fetch the materials she needed: hot water, silk, and several jugs.

With the sound of marching soldiers filling the city outside the palace, Chloe thought about Tomarys and wondered if she could somehow immobilize her bodyguard and escape. She even considered somehow making him drink some of the tea, but discarded the idea. Not only would he be a difficult man to incapacitate, but she didn’t like the thought of hurting him. He had saved her life, twice over if she added the fact that he’d helped her obtain more soma flowers to appease the sun king. He was her only friend in this terrible place.

Continuing to grind, Chloe considered making the tea too strong, but she knew that if Solon fell into a deathly slumber after drinking the liquid her head would roll.

She needed Solon to live. And she hoped he regained his gold.

Hours passed, and the heat of the day slipped into warm evening and then the cool stillness of night.

Chloe had delivered her medicine. The sun king was gone and his soldiers with him. The ensuing silence was almost eerie in comparison.

Sleeping on his side on his mat near her pallet, Tomarys’s eyes slowly opened. ‘It is late. You should sleep.’

Chloe sat cross-legged, staring at the murals on the wall; she hadn’t even tried to sleep. Dark images swept through her mind: the knife pressed to her throat and the bloody fight . . . Princess Yasmina’s horrific fate. The girl had done nothing wrong, but she had been given one of the worst deaths imaginable just to send her family a message. One moment she had been a young girl living in a strange version of captivity, the next moment men were holding her down and cutting out her eyes, slicing off her ears and nose. Chloe felt ill just imagining it.

Again her thoughts mingled and shifted like a flurry of leaves under a tree. She touched her fingers to her throat and imagined the knife going in, cutting into her windpipe and jugular vein. She wondered what it must feel like to know that with the agonizing pain would come certain death. Loss of breath. Inability to speak. Lifeblood gushing out onto the dust. Darkness closing in.

‘Lady?’ Tomarys said. He sat up. ‘What is wrong?’

‘Tomarys,’ Chloe said, speaking softly, turning to gaze at him intently. ‘Solon is gone for a time. Will you help me escape?’

He shook his head sadly. ‘Regretfully, I cannot. I have family who would be made to suffer.’

‘What if we could escape with them too?’

‘My mother is sick.’ He hung his head. ‘She would never survive a difficult journey.’

‘I understand,’ Chloe said. She knew she couldn’t ask so much of him. ‘But . . .’ She took a breath, releasing it in a long sigh. ‘Would you help me in another way?’

‘What is it?’

She clenched her fists as she thought about her helplessness, looking at each of her hands in turn. ‘We haven’t spoken about it since, but back in the alley I was almost killed.’

Chloe once more looked directly into his dark eyes.

‘I grew up with soldiers. I used to watch them at practice, and the captain of my father’s guard is a friend. When I saw you the other day . . . I have never seen another move like you.’ She swallowed. ‘Tomarys, I want you to teach me to fight.’

He frowned, his expression more puzzled than anything. ‘But you are a woman.’

Chloe set her jaw with determination. ‘Then they won’t expect me to fight back.’