Golden Age (The Shifting Tides, #1)(62)
With his bow in the satchel, he climbed out from the bay until he was on open ground high above the river, looking at the indomitable city wall, with hexagonal towers at regular intervals along its length.
He reminded himself of his quest. He needed to learn what he could about this land, about its ruler, warships, and army. He had to find and rescue the first consul’s daughter.
Back in Xanthos, Nikolas would be building up the army. His father, King Markos of Xanthos, would be trying to arrange a military alliance with Phalesia. Taking Chloe made clear the sun king’s hostile intentions. He desired the Ark of Revelation. He was a war king, a ruler of conquest. He would return.
Back in Phalesia, the Assembly would be preparing to appease the sun king, which would only prove their weakness. Aristocles would be aware that his daughter’s life hung in the balance, even as he tried to convince his people to prepare for war.
Dion started walking toward Lamara. On the way, he began to think how he might gain entry through the city gates.
In the end, nothing could have been easier.
He simply reached a dusty road, joining throngs of people of all description, and walked through Lamara’s wide gates.
He had seen the ziggurat as he approached and marveled at the walled palace on the highest tier, evidently the residence of the sun king. A triangular peak in the distance, on the far side of the city near the river, filled him with bemusement as to its purpose. The massive city walls went on and on, yellow and ancient. Initially concerned, as his gaze took in the crowd entering through the gates, he realized what a cosmopolitan city he was walking into, the bustling heart of an empire.
Aware that he was staring at everything around him, Dion lowered his gaze and tried to walk with purpose as he followed the crowd onto a wide boulevard with two-storied brick houses on both sides. When the road forked he took the left fork, though he had no idea where it led. The crowd now thinned and he rubbed his chin as he stopped in his tracks.
‘Lodgings?’ a piping voice called from nearby.
He ignored the query as he tried to formulate a plan. Something tugged on the sleeve of his tunic and, glancing to the side, he saw a small boy looking up at him, grinning hopefully.
‘Lodgings?’ the boy said again.
He had a round face and eager smile – a small urchin with a snub nose and dazzlingly bright white teeth. He wore loose, dirty trousers and a tight vest. His brown eyes sparkled from underneath tousled strands of black hair.
‘You need a place to sleep? You want something from the bazaar?’
Dion shook himself loose. ‘Not interested,’ he muttered.
He continued up the road and climbed a series of steps, deciding to try to get closer to the palace. Turning into an alleyway, he wrinkled his nose at a smoky stench and saw two youths huddled in a doorway, furtively passing a pipe between them. They were both stick thin; in another place Dion would have assumed they were deathly ill. One sighed with apparent exhaustion, slumping as he let out a stream of thick smoke while another leaned back and stared at the sky as if seeing deep meaning above.
The youth with the pipe looked up, saw Dion, and scowled, revealing a face with a feverish cast. Deciding to try a different path, Dion went back the way he came. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that the youth had returned his attention to the pipe.
Dion climbed until he emerged onto another avenue, home to a small fruit market. His stomach rumbled at the sight of all the bright fruits and vegetables. The magi from Athos had gifted him with food, but he hadn’t had a proper meal since leaving Xanthos.
He realized he was standing in the wrong place when the people shopping at the market scurried out of the way and a marching column of soldiers in yellow cloaks pushed through. Narrowly avoiding them, he inspected them carefully as they passed. They wore leather skirts over cloth trousers and leather breastplates above tunics. Each carried a triangular shield and a spear, with a curved sword at his waist, longer than the swords worn by the hoplites of Xanthos. These were professional soldiers, he saw. His brother’s warriors were better armed, but the sun king’s men marched in tight formation and their hands were scarred from regular practice.
Dion’s bow was in his satchel but he had seen several Ileans with swords at their sides. He decided he would be safe to carry his bow openly, if he needed to.
Resuming his climb as he searched for the palace, he left the square and followed a steep road leading to a wealthy residential district. Heading up to the ziggurat’s highest tier, he finally came to a tall red wall the height of three men. A wide road followed the wall, curving with it, and he knew he was skirting the exterior of the palace.
He traveled along the wall, looking for the entrance, noting the sharp wooden spikes at regular intervals along the top. He walked for a time but still couldn’t see any gates. Rounding a corner, he stopped and stared as the ground ahead dropped away, revealing the lower city all the way to the wide brown river.
He struggled to take in what he was looking at now. He saw the residences of the nobility give way to workshops and then a broad boulevard with gates dividing it from the city. The section within the gate was evidently a temple quarter, but it was the immense structure between the temple quarter and the river that drew his gaze.
A perfectly proportioned pyramid rose from the dusty plain of the city’s outskirts, but still within the guarding walls and towers. Although Dion had traveled in Phalesia, Sarsica, and the islands of the Maltherean Sea, he couldn’t believe mere humans were capable of building such a thing. Only the worn obelisks said to be remnants of the vanished Aleuthean civilization rivaled it in size, but they were ancient, and this was new.