Golden Age (The Shifting Tides, #1)(70)

The magus grunted.

Chloe made a filter out of the fine silk, doubling it over on itself. She glanced around the room, seeing that the steward was busy pressing a damp cloth to the sun king’s brow. ‘I need someone to help me.’

‘I will,’ the lord said. He came around the bed and the magus made way for him. ‘What can I do?’

‘Hold this cloth over the cup. Mind your hands, the water is hot.’

Chloe poured the tea over the cloth in small portions until the cup was full and sodden plant matter had gathered on the silk. Seeing that enough liquid remained in the jug for another cup, she returned the soma flower clinging to the silk to the jug, scraping it off with her fingertips, loath to waste any of its potency.

Finally, she trickled honey from another jar into the cup, then dropped in a wedge of lemon. The last two ingredients were purely to disguise the taste.

‘It’s done,’ she said.

Reaching around Chloe and the lord, the magus took hold of the cup and turned, beckoning for the old slave to come closer.

‘Drink,’ the magus said. ‘A good swallow or I will have you impaled.’

Glancing fearfully at the onlookers, the old slave tipped the cup back, drinking a third of the contents in a single gulp.

While the magus and lord waited, Chloe kept her expression neutral. She saw that the steward had brought a second empty cup and with a nod at the lord to help her again she prepared the additional serving.

When she was done, she returned her gaze to the room. With nothing to occupy her attention the wait dragged out. The old slave looked from face to face. The tension had gone out of his stooped shoulders. He looked like a man contentedly preparing for bed.

‘How do you feel?’ the lord asked.

‘I feel . . .’ He cleared his throat. ‘I feel fine.’

‘We should wait longer,’ the magus growled.

At that moment the sun king began to writhe, waving his arms about as he clutched at his chest and then reached out to grab hold of the steward’s arm. He coughed, a wracking, shuddering cough that hurt Chloe to hear. He continued for what felt like an eternity and then blessedly stopped, his skin so pale he looked like death. The steward touched a cloth to his lips and Chloe was almost surprised to see there was no blood.

‘We can wait no longer,’ the steward said.

‘I agree,’ said the lord in orange robes. He nodded at the magus. ‘Give the cup to the steward.’

Solon leaned forward slightly to swallow the tea, his bony throat swelling and contracting as he gulped it down. The steward tilted the cup back until every drop was gone.

The king lay back once more. Every set of eyes in the room was on him.

His color slowly returned.

The sun king’s lips parted. He spoke, his voice strengthening with every word. ‘Better . . . So much better.’ His eyes were slightly glazed. ‘The pain. It is still present, but my soul’s passage through the jagged gates is made easier.’

A sleepy smile crossed his face. The magus frowned, but the steward looked relieved.

‘The girl,’ Solon murmured. ‘Bring her to me.’

The bald man took Chloe by the elbow and led her to the sun king’s bedside.

‘What can I do, king of kings?’ she asked.

‘Your skills have made me better.’ His smile drifted; he looked as if he would soon fall asleep. His eyes closed as she waited, but after a moment they opened once more. ‘I would grant you a small boon for your service.’

Chloe held her breath. She knew the soma flower brought feelings of contentment. She may not get this chance again.

She wondered what she should ask for. She tossed away idea after idea. She couldn’t ask for anything too big. Even if he granted her request, he may take it away the next day. She couldn’t ask for alternate sleeping quarters, nor the freedom to roam the city unaccompanied. She couldn’t ask to be returned to her homeland or for the sun king to cease his desire for the Ark of Revelation.

In the end, she realized, there was nothing she could ask for herself.

But she could help another.

‘My bodyguard, Tomarys, has a brother working as a slave on the pyramid.’

‘Mmm.’ Solon nodded, close to drifting away.

‘The work is dangerous. I would ask that you free the slave, or find him safer work somewhere else.’

Solon glanced up at the lord in orange robes and nodded. ‘See it done,’ he said.

‘I will, sire.’

The sun king’s eyes finally closed, and Chloe was taken from the room.





30


Dion couldn’t believe he was actually part of the crew of an Ilean warship. No amount of examining a beached bireme, or even a vessel under construction, could have given him the level of knowledge he was accumulating by sailing on one. The warship’s name was the Anoraxis, and it was a thing of beauty.

Dion and the other marines that formed the complement of soldiers under Captain Roxana generally remained above decks, but he was free to roam wherever he wished, and had already explored the vessel from top to bottom. He had inspected the twin tiers of rowing benches and assessed the length of the oars. After speaking with the master of the drum he had learned about the various tempos, from the slow rate used to bring the warship into safe harbor to the galloping rhythm used only when employing the sharpened bronze ram.