‘That one,’ Chloe said, pointing to the most structurally sound of the huts.
This time she followed close behind him as he entered. She knew she’d come to the right place when she saw tables with strips of tar drying on leaves. Tomarys looked at her inquiringly.
‘Keep moving,’ she said.
At the back of the shack she lifted the lid of a large ceramic urn. Inside were flower pods, dozens of them. Chloe searched the dark interior until she found a sack. Her heart raced as she tossed pod after pod into the sack while Tomarys stood guard outside. She’d only half filled the sack when he called out. ‘Voices. Quick. We need to go now.’
He held her by the arm as they left the way they’d come.
They made the journey back to the palace in silence.
32
The long warship passed the southern lighthouse and then the statue of the sun god before following the river to the harbor. The thudding of the drum was slow and stately; the oars plunged into the water with a walking pace. Roxana was giving the slaves some respite after the frantic chase. Behind the vessel was a rope, and attached to the rope was a long reptilian body.
Two days had passed since the hunt. Dion was looking forward to a decent night’s rest when he returned to the House of Algar. Though the room was expensive, and there were simpler lodgings close to the harbor, he still had to find Chloe.
As the Anoraxis approached the shore, heading for a narrow stretch of beach between two other biremes, Roxana joined Dion at the rail.
‘So tell me, Dion of No-land, where did you learn to shoot a bow like that?’ She turned an inquiring gaze on him.
‘My father was a great warrior, and my brother follows in his footsteps,’ Dion said. ‘I tried, but I could never use a sword.’ He shrugged. ‘So I learned archery. I practiced for years. My brother helped me get instruction from the best archers and I became good.’
‘Did you make your father proud?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘My father thinks archery is for commoners.’
The words were out of his mouth before he could take them back, but Roxana only grinned. ‘Well at least I can make use of your skill.’
Dion sought to change the subject. ‘The wildran’s corpse,’ he said. ‘What do you do with it?’
‘We’ll be able to make leather and lamp oil, though the flesh is rancid.’
He nodded and scanned the deck. ‘I should lend a hand.’
Dion felt her eyes on him as he left, but then the vessel was beaching and everyone on board was busy as they gathered all the equipment and supplies on the upper deck before disembarking and hauling it onto the shore.
With their work done, Dion waited with the other marines as they formed up with firm sand under their feet.
Roxana came and looked them over. ‘Well done, men. You’ve earned your pay. Return to your billets and come back tomorrow morning for practice. Archers, I saw some of those shots go wild. I want you to work until you strike targets at fifty paces nine times out of ten. Soldiers, not all wildren we hunt are serpents. Hone your weapons. I want each of you to spar with every other marine in our group. Dismissed.’
The marines dispersed and Roxana issued instructions to the master of the oars and the other officers. Dion started to follow his companions up to the city, when a gruff voice called his name.
‘You still have an interest in shipbuilding?’ Roxana asked.
Dion felt a thrill rise as he nodded. ‘I do.’
‘Then follow me.’
She led him to the sheds at the harbor’s far end, where he had first met her at one of the biremes under construction. He once more saw the supports holding the vessel in the air over the tiered depression in the ground. It was late afternoon, and the workers had gone for the day, meaning that the two of them were alone.
‘Understand anything about carpentry?’ she asked.
Dion smiled. ‘Not much.’
‘Know what a mortise and tenon joint is?’ When he didn’t respond, she continued. ‘Imagine you’re trying to fit two pieces of wood together at an angle. You need something strong to hold them together; a few wooden dowels aren’t enough to do the trick. Come.’ She walked down the outside of the ship, weaving around the supports, until she came to the ribs on the hull. ‘See here? The wood fits seamlessly together. The best way to understand it is to think of the parts of a man and woman.’ She grinned. ‘We shape the end to give this plank here’—she touched one of the horizontal pieces of what would become the deck—‘a tooth . . . an appendage . . . a man’s knob. Whereas this rib here’—Roxana slapped the wood—‘we gouge so that we have a hole. Understand?’
Dion ran his eyes over the warship, and now that he was looking, he could see where every joint had been carefully fitted to connect one piece of timber to another. ‘How long are the teeth?’
‘At least as long as what you have in your trousers.’ She chuckled. ‘Sometimes a lot longer.’
‘Where do you get the timber?’