‘What orders?’ a slim youth with his first growth of beard asked. Dion saw he had a scabbarded sword in one hand and a stuffed satchel in the other.
‘Riko,’ Dion said, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘Glad you could make it. Get your things into the boat, and then help us load her up.’
‘Not much in the way of provisions,’ said the second man, Otus, a tall brawler with a broken nose.
‘We’re only going to Phalesia. If we’re traveling further we can get supplies there.’
‘Will we be there tonight?’ Riko asked.
‘No,’ Dion said. ‘The wind’s against us. We’ll have to beach tonight on the far side of the narrows.’
‘Fair enough,’ said Otus. ‘Come on, lad.’ He inclined his head to Riko.
Shielding his eyes, Dion saw his mother waiting on the grassy bank higher up. He looked for more figures but felt a surge of disappointment when he saw that she was the only member of his family who had come to say goodbye.
As he climbed the beach he felt sad. He hadn’t expected much more from the king, but it was unlike Nikolas to let him go without a word of farewell.
‘Mother,’ he said, ‘it’s time to go.’
With her typical lithe grace, she came forward to embrace her son. ‘I don’t know if you are departing on a long journey or not. I wish I knew.’
She continued to hold him by the shoulders as he scanned the area, trying to hide his emotions but failing.
‘Father . . . Nikolas . . . They’re both busy?’
The queen nodded. Her manner was strangely distracted. ‘You know how they are; it’s always soldiers and fighting with them. They’ve had an early start at the bowyer’s workshop.’
‘Well, I’d best be going.’
‘Wait . . .’ Dion’s mother continued to hold his shoulders.
‘Why—?’
‘Ah, there’s Helena!’ Thea said, finally letting him go. ‘She must have come to say goodbye.’
Nikolas’s tall blonde wife wore a silk chiton of deepest blue hemmed with gold. She was walking quickly, with a forced smile displaying even white teeth.
‘Dion,’ she said, ‘you wouldn’t leave without saying farewell to me?’
‘Well, I—’
She pulled him close and kissed him on both cheeks, so that her soft hair tickled his face and he smelled her floral scent.
Dion saw Helena pass his mother a meaningful look, leaving him feeling puzzled.
‘Have you loaded your supplies?’ she asked.
He glanced back at the boat, seeing that the last of the sacks were nearly aboard – something that Helena could see for herself.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Well, my men are waiting. Thank you both for coming down. Tell Nikolas and Father that I—’
‘You can’t go this instant,’ Dion’s mother interrupted. ‘There’s something I have to tell you.’
Dion frowned. ‘What is it?’
‘I . . .’ Thea began uncertainly.
Then Helena visibly relaxed. ‘They’re here,’ she murmured to Thea.
Following her gaze, Dion saw the big burly form of his brother approaching as he followed a path through the nearby trees, all dark hair and bristling beard. A moment later his father came into view beside him. Both men were walking with swift steps, their progress made slow by the king’s limp.
‘Thank the gods,’ Nikolas panted, grinning as he neared. ‘We had to twist a few arms, but we got here in time.’
‘Nikolas, Father,’ Dion said, smiling as a surge of emotion threatened to bring tears to his eyes. ‘You came.’
The king halted beside his wife as Nikolas and Dion embraced, but then Dion realized his brother was holding something behind his back. ‘What are you hiding?’
Nikolas ignored the question, frowning. ‘Are you taking your bow with you?’
‘Of course,’ Dion said.
‘Then throw it in the sea,’ Nikolas said. He brought his hand from around his back and held out a large leather-wrapped packet, twice the length of his arm.
Taking it in both hands, Dion unraveled a corner of the cloth. When he revealed a length of polished wood he gasped. Unable to stop himself, he let the rest of the cover fall to the ground as he examined a length of curved wood. The composite bow was strung and ready to use, the workmanship finer than anything he’d seen before.
‘It’s your new bow.’ Nikolas beamed.
‘This is for me?’
‘Father and I were having it made for your birthday, but we thought it better to give it to you now. The future is uncertain, and you never know when you’ll be in need of a good weapon.’
Dion examined it with both hands. It was sleek, made of alternating pieces of wood and horn, expertly spliced with the connections so tight they felt completely smooth when he ran his fingers along the bow’s length. It curved back on itself at both ends and was as long as a tall man’s stride.
‘It’s beautiful,’ Dion said, testing the draw. He had never owned anything so costly, nor held a bow so well made.