Golden Age (The Shifting Tides, #1)(53)
Now, shielding her eyes as the Nexotardis headed for its home port, she saw a distant structure on a finger of land and realized it was a lighthouse. Sweeping her gaze in the opposite direction, she saw a second promontory with yet another lighthouse on its tip.
The Nexotardis passed between the two structures, miles apart from each other, and Chloe saw more ships ahead, traveling the same way: sailing skiffs and rowing galleys, merchant vessels with bulging bellies, and ramshackle fishing boats.
Another promontory divided the bay in the middle and Kargan led them to the right, following the other ships. Chloe saw that they were entering an inlet, the curling waves colliding with the rushing water of a mighty river. As they passed the central jut of land on the right, she shielded her eyes and saw a huge statue.
It was made of stone and bigger than the lighthouses she’d seen earlier. She recognized Helios the sun god, legs apart and arms at his sides, head tilted back to look up at the sky.
‘The statue marks the start of the river,’ a rumbling voice said beside her as Kargan joined her at the rail. ‘You will see the city soon enough.’
The drum thrummed below the deck, so ever-present that the sound was now at the edge of her consciousness. The Nexotardis traveled on oars alone, blades lifting out of the water, sweeping back and dipping in again with endless repetition. There were now banks at both sides, sometimes showing yellow cliffs and other times broken shores filled with boulders.
Buildings appeared on the left bank, mud-brick structures with gaping holes for windows and roofs of stick and straw. Then Chloe saw a wall. It was dusty and red, as tall as the ship’s mast and broad enough for men to walk on top. A hexagonal tower rested up against a cliff where the wall met the river, and for a time the wall hid the city within.
Glancing at the other bank, opposing the city, she decided that this was where the poorer people lived, for the huts were crude and crammed close together. Dusty streets marked out one block of huts from another, while on a hill behind she could see regularly spaced trees and fields of grain. There were no bridges; passage between the two sides of the river would be granted by ferryboat only. Every vessel on the right-hand shore was a fishing boat.
As they passed the wall, her attention turned once more to the left-hand bank and the main city.
‘Lamara,’ Kargan said. ‘Capital of the Ilean Empire.’
Structures appeared as they passed the city wall. So many buildings that Chloe struggled to comprehend them all. Lamara dwarfed Phalesia, more yellow than white, perhaps less beautiful, but . . . huge.
The city followed the bank of the river for at least a mile. A series of tiers in the very center marked out a ziggurat, and on the highest level Chloe saw a walled palace, undoubtedly the home of the sun king. The sprawling edifice crowned the city, spearing the sky with tall spires, so thin that Chloe wondered how they didn’t topple over. Like most of the buildings around, it was made of red brick, but she could see marble columns and the rust color was further broken by a multitude of yellow flags with orange suns in their centers, snapping in the breeze.
Below the palace was a confusion of two-storied residential blocks delineated by winding alleys and broad avenues. Chloe saw temples of basalt and marble statues, sprawling slums and grand villas. Palm trees clustered here and there, made ethereal by the dust.
‘Look,’ Kargan said, pointing. ‘The bazaar.’
‘Bazaar?’ Chloe frowned.
‘Market.’
She realized he was pointing at a rectangular square located somewhere in the lower city between the palace and the riverbank. Canopied stalls with tent-like coverings of every color imaginable crowded one next to another. Aisle after aisle filled the square, leaving no empty space uncovered. The bazaar of Lamara could have swallowed the Phalesian agora several times over.
As they drew inline with the palace the bank dropped away, curving in an arc of sandy shoreline. Chloe realized it was the city’s harbor. She couldn’t believe the number of vessels drawn up on the shore, a number that must be approaching a hundred.
Seeing the sun king’s fleet, she felt fear stab her stomach. Over half of the vessels on the shore were biremes, all of them as large and powerful as the Nexotardis. The powerful warship that had so concerned her father and the other consuls was just one of many.
Kargan stayed with Chloe at the rail, appearing to enjoy her awe and consternation at the sheer size of the city. His men knew what to do. In moments he would be home.
Scanning the harbor, she saw soldiers and sailors guarding the ships and scrubbing the decks. The beach sloped up until it joined the buildings facing it. A sailor exited a hut on the shore, two steaming bowls in his hands, handing one to a friend.
Kargan had a hint of a smile on his face as he regarded her, as if he were waiting for something. Chloe frowned, and looked back at the harbor.
Then, somewhat distant, but so large it couldn’t be real, she saw something that took her breath away.
It rose from behind the red buildings, erected on the land further upriver, within the city walls but far from the palace. It was a mountain . . . but a mountain made by men, perfectly proportioned, triangular-faced on all sides. It was the biggest structure Chloe had ever seen.
She rubbed her eyes. She could see shining golden blocks the size of houses piled one on top of the other, describing how it had been made, with each level slightly smaller than the one below. Strangely, two thirds of the way up, the glistening faces ceased and the levels became naked stone all the way to the summit.