A solitary man left the upper deck to descend the ramp. He was too far away for Chloe to see much of his features, but she gained an impression of a warrior’s physique contrasted with opulent orange robes.
Captain Amos went down to the end of the gangway. He removed his helmet to offer greeting as the newcomer reached the land. For a time they spoke together.
Amos then called out to one of his officers, evidently instructing them to wait as he led the foreigner along the beach, toward the steps to the embankment, while the rest of the soldiers remained to watch the warship.
Chloe saw her father exchange glances with the other consuls before speaking. ‘Consuls,’ he said, ‘come.’
Aristocles walked to stand at the top of the embankment steps that led down to the shore. There were so many consuls that it took time for them to get into a semblance of order, but finally they stood in a mass vaguely resembling a half circle, ranged around the first consul at the midpoint with Consul Nilus at his side.
Moments later the newcomer and Amos crested the embankment steps and Chloe now had her first good look at the stranger. He was swarthy, with olive skin darkened by exposure to sun and sea. A curled beard glistened in the light and she guessed it had been oiled, along with his hair, a heavy mop of dark locks. His upper lip was also mustached, but unlike his beard it was neatly trimmed. He had black eyes and faint scars on his face and hands; Chloe’s initial impression of a warrior was confirmed. Amos was not a small man and had an athletic build that reminded Chloe of the statues of the gods. Yet the foreigner was bigger still.
He cast his eyes over the city before turning his attention to the assembled gathering as he came to a halt in front of Aristocles. Chloe watched as her father waited with a face like stone. It was a tactic she had seen him employ on more than one occasion and it could make men tremble. She didn’t know if the stranger even noticed. Instead he neither bowed nor smiled; he simply started to speak with a thick, rolling accent.
‘I am Kargan, captain of the bireme Nexotardis. The earthquake damaged my ship.’ He spoke the last in a growling voice, as if it was an insult that offended his pride. ‘I need to make repairs.’
‘I bid you welcome,’ Aristocles said. ‘I am Aristocles, First Consul of Phalesia, and this is Consul Nilus. Behind me is the Assembly of Consuls, those who administer the city of Phalesia and its environs.’
Kargan nodded slowly. He looked from face to face, examining the consuls arrayed in front of him. He appeared perplexed. ‘Where is your king? Summon him, that I may discuss arrangements.’
Aristocles cleared his throat. ‘I am first consul. In the first instance, you shall speak with me.’
‘Eh?’ Kargan raised an eyebrow, but then gave a dismissive wave. ‘No matter. I intend to pay for all materials, though we have supplies and will not be requiring much. I will also pay for the use of your harbor and beach.’
Aristocles gazed out at the wounded warship. ‘Your men are no doubt weary from your journey, which judging by the state of your vessel has been a harrowing experience. We can discuss arrangements when you have seen to their well-being.’ He spread his arms. ‘I extend an invitation for you and your senior officers to dine with me . . . and Consul Nilus, of course, tonight at my villa.’
Kargan grunted. ‘I will need to secure the safety of my ship, but then I would welcome it.’
Without another word, Kargan turned away.
Consul Nilus spoke for the first time, clearing his throat before calling out. ‘Before you go . . .’ He was momentarily at a loss for words. ‘Who are you?’
Kargan made a surprised sound, frowning as he faced Nilus. ‘We are of Ilea, from across the Maltherean Sea. I serve Solon the sun king, who rules his empire from his capital Lamara, the city I call my home. Surely you know of Ilea? Our empire covers most of Salesia, from the Shadrian Passage in the west, to the city of Efu in the east.’
Kargan didn’t appear to care about the consuls’ reaction one way or another. He gave a short bow and then spun on his heel, heading for the narrow steps and the harbor shore. Amos glanced at Aristocles and then scurried to keep up with the stranger.
5
Chloe readily agreed to her father’s request that she prepare food for the foreigner’s welcome feast. While the servants were passable cooks, if the event was especially important, she often handled both the cooking and serving of the meal. As she worked in the kitchen she felt nervous, but she was curious about this man, Kargan, and his homeland across the sea. If she could help her father deal successfully with a nation that commanded such powerful warships, she would consider the night a success.
Sophia came over, carrying a large ceramic bowl colored black and gold and decorated with a scene of two men hunting stags on white horses. She showed Chloe the pile of fruit inside. ‘I discarded the bad figs.’