‘To ascertain the sun king’s intentions and capabilities. To learn about these warships and their construction.’
Aristocles stood back and looked Dion up and down, his expression pensive.
‘The sun king knows nothing of my people,’ Dion continued. ‘They wouldn’t immediately connect me with Phalesia.’
‘Speak plainly, Dion of Xanthos,’ Aristocles said. ‘What are you saying?’
‘The sun king wouldn’t suspect me of making a rescue attempt.’
‘Your father knows of this?’
‘I just arrived. He has no knowledge of your daughter’s capture.’
‘Why would you help me?’
‘Because I believe a war is coming, with the Maltherean Sea as battleground. Because with your daughter hostage the likely outcome is that Phalesia will focus on ransom rather than gearing up for war. Because we in Xanthos need your navy and your men if we are to survive.’
Dion paused to let his words sink in.
‘Alone, Xanthos cannot survive against the sun king,’ he continued. ‘The Ileans have shown their intentions. War will come. We need to get your daughter to safety, to take her out of the conflict. We need to prepare.’
Silence ensued, broken only by the wind whistling on the cliff top and the faint sound of waves crashing below. The glaring sun reminded Dion that time was passing.
‘I will pray to the gods,’ Aristocles finally said.
At that instant Dion caught fleeting motion out of the corner of his eye. His breath caught as he saw an eagle flying in an arc. The great bird settled in the air, just a few feet from the edge of the cliff, where it hovered, watching them with intelligent eyes. The eagle spent long seconds simply regarding the two men, and then wheeled away. It flew swiftly away from the temple, in a direct path out to sea.
The two watchers followed the eagle’s flight but it never changed course, becoming a tiny speck, and then vanishing altogether.
Aristocles’ face was white.
‘The omen is clear,’ the first consul said. ‘War is coming. Go, Dion of Xanthos. My prayers will be with you. Do your utmost.’
He spoke with ragged emotion as he gripped Dion’s shoulders.
‘Get my daughter back.’
18
The long warship traveled through deep waters that were a darker shade of blue than Chloe had ever seen. Mighty waves pounded at its bow, lifting it up before slamming it into the troughs behind. Sitting at the stern, where she felt the motion least, Chloe looked back toward her homeland, where the vessel’s wake left a whitened trail.
It was the second day of travel, and the wake pointed directly to the island of Deos, where they had beached the previous night. Chloe could still see the island now, marked out by the triangular silhouette of Mount Oden. Her sleep had been filled with terror, not only because of the rough men surrounding her, but because of the rumbling volcano, its peak clouded by the black smoke it spewed forth.
No Galean would have chosen the volcanic island to beach on: Mount Oden was the home of the gods, and their whims could never be predicted. Children listened to stories that told of shipwrecked sailors being stranded on the island. Some stories ended with the traveler being sent home, traveling on a cloud. Other times the victim was changed into a goat or a horse.
Chloe’s stomach growled, clenching itself painfully. Kargan’s men had given her food and drink but she struggled to keep any of it down; she vomited the contents of her stomach whenever she had anything more substantial than a sip of water.
‘Lady,’ a voice said. Glancing up from pondering the sea, Chloe saw a ragged Salesian with pockmarked skin, crouched on the deck as he looked up at her. ‘Here,’ he said, holding out something. ‘Grapes. From your city.’
She hesitantly took the proffered grapes. There were a dozen of them, green and fresh, still clustered to the vine.
‘Eat them slowly, one at a time,’ the Salesian said. He spoke with a stilted accent and his manner was fearful. ‘It will be good for your stomach.’
‘What is your name?’ Chloe asked.
‘Kufi, lady. I am a slave from Efu, in Haria.’
‘Thank you, Kufi of Efu. Do you know where we’re going?’
‘To the great city of Lamara,’ he said. ‘Capital of Ilea.’
‘Does your family live in Lamara?’
‘My family is dead, lady. Killed when the sun king’s army sacked the city. My brother and I both fought—’
Kufi broke off, his eyes widening with fear as he turned and saw Kargan approaching. The master of the Nexotardis ignored the slave as he scurried away.
‘Good,’ Kargan said. ‘I’m glad to see you eating. The sickness will pass in time.’
Chloe felt her strength return as she ate the sweet grapes. She lifted her chin as she scowled. ‘I want you to know that I will escape.’