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.
10
‘Would you call this one a leviathan?’ Dion asked Cob, surprised to hear his own voice shaking.
‘Yes.’ Cob was white-faced. ‘I would.’
The serpent was longer than the warship back in Phalesia’s harbor. A muscular length of rippling flesh clad in glossy silver scales, it swam with sinuous movements, undulating and writhing. It was entirely underwater and moved swiftly past the tiny sailboat, so that soon it was little more than a black shadow seen below the surface.
Dion felt pitifully weak and defenseless. ‘I’m glad they’re not all that size, then.’
‘No, that is one of the big ones. A powerful one.’
Sharing the confined space of the narrows with the eldran, between the opposing cliffs, was a harrowing experience. When it first appeared Dion’s heart had nearly stopped. Cob had swung the tiller so hard he had almost capsized the boat. Dion had to remind himself constantly that this monster was here to help.
The serpent’s head thrust out of the water ahead, before plunging once more into the sea, and he caught a glimpse of a long, triangular head, almost reptilian, with a spiny frill behind the jaw line. Along its back an erect silver dorsal fin followed the creature’s spine.
Dion watched its entire length bend and loop to follow the head into the water as it dived. The spiny dorsal fin ended and still its body continued, each diamond scale the size of a man’s hand. Its girth was wider than the columns that held up the roof of the lyceum.
‘By Silex,’ Cob breathed. ‘I would never wish to encounter a wild one of that size.’
From ahead, below the place where the cliff loomed over the narrows, a rumble from under the surface made the water shiver, like the ripples caused by droplets of rain. The noise was muted, but swirls and eddies told Dion there was movement.
‘If anything can clear the narrows, this is it,’ Dion said.
Cob didn’t reply, but Dion heard him mutter yet another prayer to the sea god.
Dion stood in the rocking boat, holding onto the mast as he shaded his eyes. The sun was directly overhead so that even with the cliffs so close together bright light penetrated the confines of the narrows. The sail was lowered while they waited, and wondering what was happening under the water, Dion leaned forward, trying to see what the eldran was doing.
‘Stop rocking the boat,’ Cob muttered.
‘I need to know if it is succeeding.’
‘I’m sure it will let us know.’
‘How? Do they talk when they’ve changed form?’
The old man pondered for a moment. ‘I have no idea. I’ve never heard merfolk speak.’
The sun passed, creating instant shadow in the narrows and making it more difficult for Dion to see. He hated not knowing what was happening, and instead of trying to see the black shape under the water he tried to read the water at the place where the opposing rock walls were closest.
‘Can you see the splashes about thirty feet from the left face? I think that’s where it is.’ He pointed while Cob frowned, squinting and shaking his head. ‘You can see the splashes, can’t you?’
‘I’m trying, lad.’