Now he had to move as swiftly as he could, for the results of what he was doing would definitely be noticed.
He took the lid off the stone jug and looked inside, relieved to see the coals still hot and smoking. Facing the rippling brown water of the river, Dion reached into the side of the ship at his right, open to circulate air among the oarsmen. He had no tongs, so he tipped the jug to allow two coals to drop onto the wooden planking of the vessel’s interior. He followed with tinder, placed around the coals. When he saw flames, he lifted the skin and poured lamp oil all over the area.
He then went to the ship on his other side, starting fire and pouring lamp oil there also.
Dion hefted the satchel onto his shoulder and left, nearly running, but fighting to keep his movements calm. He had the jug in his hand as he walked along the row, traveling until he’d passed half a dozen ships, and then ducking into the thin space between two more.
He started another fire and poured more lamp oil.
He left the area and continued to walk away from the crowded section, where there were few people who would see him.
Dion entered between two more ships and kept going.
42
Chloe woke after yet another sleep of exhaustion. She saw some flatbread and water just inside the doorway and realized the guards had visited her while she was asleep. She swiftly ate and drank in thirsty gulps, before climbing to her feet and gripping the iron bars of the grill as she peered at the distant cell.
‘Triton?’ she called. ‘Are you there?’
She had spent hours speaking with him, deep in discussion. He had asked her about her home and she had questioned him further about his plans for revenge on the sun king.
But as she continued to call out, silence greeted her words. She tilted her head, perplexed. Somehow, the eldran king was gone.
Hearing footsteps, she saw a pair of palace soldiers enter the prison. One of the soldiers sniffed and made a sound of disgust.
‘What time is it?’ Chloe asked. ‘How long have I been in here? What do you intend to do with me?’
‘Quiet,’ the guard in front grunted. ‘Stand with your back against the wall.’
Chloe felt frustration course through her as she complied. The guard slid the bolt and then hauled the door open.
‘Turn around and put your arms behind your back. Walk backwards until you reach me.’
Chloe followed the instructions and then felt a rough hand go around her wrist as her arm was twisted painfully behind her back. The soldier used his leverage to turn her around. Remembering what Tomarys had taught her, she let them handle her as they wanted; she knew she had to present the image of a weak, defenseless girl.
They marched her out of the prison, along rough corridors and through a hall filled with dozens of eating soldiers. Seeing that it was daylight – late afternoon, she guessed – she recognized something of where she was, and inadvertently glanced outside to the paved section with spiky plants. She shivered when she saw that the stake was gone.
She soon found herself climbing steps and then approaching the palace’s main entrance. Crossing the courtyard, she took note of the external gates, located close to the entrance leading to the throne room.
The guard then twisted Chloe’s arm further, making her gasp with pain. She pretended to collapse, making the two guards work together to prop her up.
The guard holding her wrist cursed. ‘Walk, girl. Don’t make us drag you.’
Chloe nodded as she grimaced. She drew in a deep breath and put one step in front of the other, carefully, walking like her father when he was trying not to appear drunk. The other guard grunted.
They led her around a corner and then down a corridor, finally approaching the throne room.
Chloe saw that all the courtiers were present. The short lord in orange robes who had been her ally when she’d first given tea to the sun king now scowled at her. The dark-eyed magus in yellow nodded smugly.
Then she saw something that nearly made her stop. Triton turned as he watched her approach, and he was unguarded. Revealed in the light, the missing eye made him appear ugly and sinister.
At Solon’s right hand stood Kargan, arms folded over his barrel chest. His mop of oiled black hair and curled beard still didn’t come close to covering his broad, swarthy face. He wore yet another sumptuous silk robe, this one yellow and white.
Chloe’s gaze went to Solon.
He showed none of his previous pain, and although his eyes were still shadowed, they now burned with the strength of fanaticism. Despite his illness he dominated the room, his presence filling the space as he looked down from his throne.
Then Chloe realized something new. His golden throne was gone. He sat on a new throne, bigger than the last, but this time made of ornate ebony.