Chloe was now seated on Aristocles’ left, and as the drums finally faded away Kargan again sat down heavily on his other side. Across from them Nilus’s head was nodding as he struggled to keep awake. The symposiums the consuls and merchants hosted often went late, but never was such a quantity of wine consumed.
‘Now,’ Kargan said. He turned his dark eyes on Aristocles. ‘I am asking you seriously. The sun king desires gold above all else. We have silver. How much do you want for the ark? Name your price.’
Aristocles stiffened and saw that Nilus was suddenly awake and scowling. He reminded himself that he was Phalesia’s first consul and tried not to appear offended.
‘It is not – and will never be – for sale,’ Aristocles said. ‘But if it’s gold you want, we have many fine jewelers—’
Kargan barked a laugh and clapped Aristocles so hard on the back that he spilled wine over his tunic. ‘I had to try.’ He turned his head from side to side and frowned. ‘Music! Where is the musician?’
‘He fell asleep, lord.’
‘Throw him overboard! The stars are still out!’
Kargan lurched as he stood up and then walked three steps to the rail, facing outward, then began to urinate noisily over the side.
‘Perhaps we should make our way—’ Nilus said.
‘This banquet is not over!’ Kargan rasped as he returned. He sank down again beside Aristocles. ‘I nearly forgot! Your daughter plays the flute, does she not? Did she bring her instrument as I asked?’
When Aristocles hesitated, Kargan barked at Chloe, ‘Play, girl.’ He waved his arms to the people nearby. ‘Quiet, all of you!’
Chloe unwrapped her flute and placed it to her lips. She commenced a bright melody often performed at feast days.
She had played for only a short while when Kargan put his hands over his ears and grimaced. ‘Enough! Save my senses!’
Chloe winced and stopped playing. She wrapped her copper flute once more in cloth and stood.
‘Girl, why don’t you dance instead?’
Chloe gave Kargan a look that he barely seemed to notice. She walked away from the carpets and cushions, heading for the ramp and the shore.
‘Chloe.’ Aristocles tried to stand. His head was throbbing from the wine. ‘Lord Kargan, I must protest—’
‘Not so fast, First Consul.’ Kargan clapped a hand firmly around Aristocles’ shoulder. ‘Not while the stars still shine. More wine! More food!’
Finally, the last star left the sky and the horizon began to glow. Aristocles, Nilus, and the other two consuls lumbered across a deck filled with lolling Ileans and made their way to the gangway at the bow.
Kargan saw them to the ramp and then clapped Aristocles on the back. ‘I foresee good relations between our peoples, First Consul.’
‘I wish you safe travels.’ Aristocles struggled to make the words. ‘And I must apologize for my daughter’s hasty departure—’
‘Bah,’ he said. ‘It is nothing. Girls her age are often headstrong, which is why they need husbands.’
‘Well . . . It has been a pleasure . . .’ Aristocles mumbled.
‘Your soldiers will escort you back to the city. I saw a pair with your daughter earlier. She will be home and safe.’
Aristocles nodded, his attention consumed with the prospect of making it safely down the gangway. As he reached the pebbled shore where his fellow consuls waited, he turned back and ran his eyes over the warship one last time.
The Phalesian soldiers came to join the group and together they followed the shore back to the steps below the agora. Aristocles heard one of his stumbling companions cough as he was violently sick and his own stomach writhed in response.
When they finally reached the embankment they heard the blast of a horn and gazed back at the Ilean ship; the Nexotardis was already moving.
A multitude of oars hauled at the water, tossing it into foam with synchronized motions, sending the ship forward with astonishing speed. The sail went up.
‘They’re gone now,’ Nilus said. ‘Thank the gods.’
16
Dion picked up a bulging water skin, his muscles groaning as he carried it from the sandy shore to the large vessel rocking on the waves. He plunged into water up to his knees and handed the skin up to bald-headed Cob, who carried it to the bow and nestled it in the sheltered section with the other supplies.
His jaw cracked as he stifled a yawn; it was just after dawn; they were leaving early to catch the outgoing tide and give them plenty of time to sail to Phalesia. The water was warm on his legs and a sea breeze blew gently on his face, cooling his tanned skin from the already radiant sun. He wore a well-made white tunic suitable to both sailing and trading.
Dion made way for a wiry man twenty years his senior to get past and nodded. Sal, a longtime friend of Cob, nodded back, handing up still more supplies to the old man. As Dion headed back to the beach for more provisions he saw the last two men who would be crewing the twenty-foot sailing galley – his father’s biggest ship – newly arrived.