Golden Age (The Shifting Tides, #1)(69)

She worked the pestle tirelessly, her muscles becoming sore as she turned the flower pod into an unrecognizable cluster of fine hay-like particles. Finally deciding she was finished, she set the bowl beside her bed pallet. Before retiring, she checked the pouch with the last flower to remind herself it was safely hidden.

Then Chloe lay on the pallet, staring up at the ceiling.

She closed her eyes and went to sleep.




Chloe woke suddenly, certain that she’d been sleeping only for a few hours, her senses groggy and sleep in her eyes. Something had hold of her ankle.

The room was dark and the night still and quiet. Tomarys crouched over her; he had his hand on her foot and had been shaking her.

Sitting up, she saw that there was another man present, a slim Ilean in a plain white tunic, standing with his back at an angle to her, eyes averted. Wondering at his posture, Chloe realized he wasn’t supposed to be in the women’s quarters. To bring him here, his need must have been urgent.

‘What is it?’ Chloe whispered.

‘I am Carin, one of the stewards. The king of kings is in terrible pain,’ he said. ‘The magi cannot help him. He has asked for you.’

Chloe rummaged in her chest and quickly threw a garment over her sleeping shift as the robed man spoke.

‘Of course,’ she said. She picked up the bowl full of crushed soma flower and moved until she was facing the steward. ‘Take me to him.’

Tomarys followed as the steward led her out of the women’s quarters to a part of the palace she’d never been to before. Passing through the silent courtyards and carpeted corridors they stopped at an ornate archway. Two palace soldiers stood guard outside.

‘Enter,’ the steward said to Chloe. He indicated Tomarys. ‘He can wait here.’

Her heart pounding as she held the bowl in her hands, Chloe walked through the doorway.

She entered a huge bedchamber dominated by a four-poster bed with the mattress held above the floor by a frame of wood and cloth strips. Barely taking in the tapestries and carpets, the windows facing the harbor and the luxurious bed linen, Chloe’s gaze went immediately to the man lying on his back on the bed.

Solon was on top of the tangled linen, eyes wide open as he wheezed. He wore a silk robe on his lean frame and had both hands over his sternum.

A magus in yellow hovered near the bed on the far side, turning his dark stare on Chloe as she entered with the steward behind her. Beside him she recognized one of the lords from the throne room, a short bald man in an orange robe.

Knowing she must project confidence, she turned to address the steward. ‘I will need an empty cup, a jug of very hot water, some fine silk, honey, and lemon.’

‘Wait,’ the magus said, talking to the steward rather than Chloe. ‘She could be preparing a slow-acting poison. She is a foreigner. She is not to be trusted.’

‘Lord?’ the steward addressed the bald man.

He thought for a moment. ‘Bring what she needs. But fetch a slave also.’

When the lord nodded for her to proceed, Chloe made an inspection of the sun king. Despite who he was, she felt sympathy for the obvious pain he was in. Solon’s wide eyes followed her movements as she checked him over and he winced at regular intervals. She felt gently around his throat, making the magus tense when she had both hands around his neck, and checked the color of his hands. His circulation was good, and his glands weren’t swollen. His face had none of the yellow discoloration of jaundice. The shadow around his eyes was the result of fatigue and pain.

The problem was evidently in his chest, and Chloe found herself agreeing with his magi’s assessment: he had a cancer, a malignant growth inside him. It was advanced, she decided. The magi, priests, and priestesses from the Temple of Aeris said that such cases always meant a painful but imminent death.

Completing her inspection, she saw the steward returning with the items she’d asked for. He’d brought a slave with him, an old man with a loincloth bunched around his waist.

‘He is the best I could find at short notice,’ the steward said. ‘A night worker. I found him scrubbing floors.’

‘Please, place the items on the table there.’ Chloe pointed.

She soon busied herself preparing the tea of the soma flower, adding the plant matter from the bowl to the jug of hot water.

‘What is it that you are making?’ the magus asked.

‘Tea,’ Chloe said.

‘What is in it?’ he persisted.

‘A flower, prepared in a special way.’

‘What flower?’ he asked in exasperation.

Chloe knew she had to let the tea steep for a time. She hesitated as she saw the magus come over to watch, hovering at her shoulder. ‘The tulip.’

‘Tulip?’ He scowled. ‘I would know if tulips had uses other than in a poultice.’

‘It must be selected with care,’ Chloe said, examining the swirling contents of the jug. ‘I must select a single bulb out of hundreds. Certain features mark out a bulb that possesses the power to ease pain.’

‘I want you to show me how you make it,’ the magus demanded.

‘The process is simple. I’ve ground the closed flower pod and now I’m making this tea. You’ve seen me do it.’

‘Let her continue,’ the bald lord in orange robes instructed from the other side of the bed. ‘The king of kings is in pain.’