Golden Age (The Shifting Tides, #1)(15)

Dion saw the first sights of Xanthos come into view as they rounded a headland. Crumbling fishermen’s huts could be seen on the rocks back from shore, and then in the distance the city itself came into view on the vessel’s starboard side.

The sight of the approaching city lent urgency to Dion’s voice. ‘Cob, I have an idea how we can clear the narrows.’

‘How? There’s a huge boulder in the way, under the water. It will take weeks to move it. Perhaps months.’

‘There’s a quicker way. But we’ll need to enlist the help of Lord Aristocles.’

‘The first consul? Dion . . . You know your father wouldn’t approve of you making an unsanctioned visit. And what can Aristocles do?’

‘Phalesia needs the trade as much as we do. He might enlist the help of an eldran. They’re on good terms. A serpent could move that boulder.’

Cob pondered for a moment as the city on their right came to dominate Dion’s vision.

Unlike Phalesia there was no raised bastion over the wide bay, instead the top of the sandy beach climbed to grass and the occasional stretch of rock. The city of Xanthos spread wings around the grass, back from the beach. A narrow inlet like a scar in the middle of the harbor divided the city into two halves, the larger left side filled with workshops, tanneries, markets, and a multitude of single-storied houses with roofs of baked clay tiles. The bulk of the citizenry lived in this residential quarter, while the smaller half was home to the Royal Palace and the lofty Temple of Balal, the war god, in addition to half a dozen smaller temples.

A wooden bridge spanned the sandy-bottomed ravine dividing the city, which was filled with water only at the highest tides. Xanthos was a narrow city, built around the curve of the shore like a thin crescent moon. The agora in the residential quarter was far smaller than the square in Phalesia.

But the difference was more than made up for in the size of the Royal Palace.

Three levels high, the palace was tall and grand, with walls of white stone and crimson pennants flying high above. The three tiers were built one on top of the other in order of decreasing size, giving the middle and upper levels broad open terraces filled with gardens.

The architecture of Xanthos was sturdy rather than fanciful, with stout walls around the palace and an even stronger wall guarding the city’s landward side. Rather than the columned temples and multitudinous statues of Phalesia, the people of Xanthos lived in a city that spoke of their nature as miners, farmers, and, above all, warriors.

The largest structure in Phalesia was the lyceum. In Xanthos it was the Temple of Balal, where the soldiers of an army three times the size of Phalesia’s worshipped daily. Made of fitted white marble stones with broad steps leading to a wide entrance as high as three men, there was no way to mistake the god it was devoted to, for just outside the temple of the war god was a colossal bronze statue of an armored hoplite warrior wearing a crested helmet, standing at the ready with shield and spear.

‘All right, I will entertain the idea that a powerful enough eldran could move that boulder,’ said Cob. ‘But even so, how do you plan to sail to Phalesia with the passage blocked?’

Dion met the older man’s eyes and smiled.





7


‘Oh, no.’ Cob shook his head. ‘Not that.’

‘Come, Cob. You taught me everything there is to know about sailing. You’re up to the challenge, aren’t you?’

‘I have never done it, lad. And nor have you.’

‘Some of the fishermen do it all the time.’

‘And some of them don’t come back to their wives at the end of the day and are never seen again.’

‘I know you, old man. You are eager to try. I can tell.’

‘What makes you so certain of that?’

Dion indicated the harbor of Xanthos with his chin. Soon they would pass by the city altogether. ‘You’ve already agreed, else you would have turned us into the harbor rather than taking us past.’

Cob growled. ‘If I turned this boat, with the two of us working against each other, we’d capsize. The route through the Shards is a secret, to be reserved for emergencies.’

Dion’s smile became a frown. ‘Cob. This is an emergency. You know my father. If we go back to Xanthos we’ll never get another chance to try. And you know Peithon. He’ll advise against anything involving the eldren.’

Cob slowly nodded. ‘You have the right of it there.’ He looked up at the blue sky, still washed with a hint of gold after the recent dawn. ‘But what of provisions? We don’t have enough food and water for a full day’s sailing, and Phalesia would be at least that.’

Dion was at the midpoint of the boat and able to move more freely than Cob, who couldn’t take his hand from the tiller. Glancing down until the stumpy old sailor followed his eyes, he moved aside the bunched-up sailing cloth with his foot.

He revealed a large skin filled with water, flatbread wrapped in cloth, and two sealed jars. One jar he knew was filled with olives and the other with dried goat meat. The thought of the food made Dion’s stomach rumble as he once more covered the supplies with the sailcloth to ward off the worst of the sun.

‘You planned this?’ Cob spluttered.

‘Well, I didn’t just wish the supplies here.’

Cob proceeded to sink into one of his moods, so Dion left him to it. He knew the old man well enough to know he was eager to test their combined skills against the Shards; he was like Dion in that once he started sailing he never wanted to return to land. But Dion also knew Cob well enough to know that if Dion had mentioned the plan prior to leaving, he would have sought permission from King Markos or Nikolas. The old man would stop sulking when the danger began.