‘Before Nilus had them both murdered, one of the witnesses told Amos.’ Chloe nodded in Amos’s direction. ‘You all know Amos. He is the man who led our defense against the Ilean invasion, a man who was always loyal to my father, and to this city and its democratic foundations.’
Chloe’s face turned grim.
‘But with my father dead, murdered by men sitting here today, and no one to believe him, Amos was forced into exile, still grieving for his lord and friend, knowing that he had been killed in cold blood, stabbed in the chest by consuls of this Assembly.’
Voices clamored, but Chloe lifted her arms, and when she spoke again they were listening.
‘And now,’ she said, ‘regarding Lord Philippos.’ Instantly the lyceum was quiet. She pointed. ‘Eudora? Can you please stand?’
Seated beside Amos, Nilus’s auburn-haired servant hesitantly stood and peeled the hood away from her head. She looked terrified, huddling close to the former captain.
‘Lord Nilus,’ Chloe said. ‘I’m sure you recognize one of your servants, as will many of the consuls she has served.’
Chloe met Nilus’s eyes directly. His complexion had gone gray; he was gnawing his lips and twining his fingers together.
‘Eudora saw a man come to you, a hunchback with a foreign accent. You ordered your house evacuated while you and this man spoke.’
‘And what of it?’ Nilus said. ‘I have many visitors.’
‘You admit seeing him.’ Chloe nodded. She made sure her next words could be heard by all. ‘My sister Sophia, who was aiding the high priestess, saw the same hunchback confirm Lord Philippos’s identity before having him killed.’ She scanned the room. ‘You all know the motive. Only with Lord Philippos dead could Nilus win the election.’
This time the cacophony was deafening. The men of Lord Philippos’s faction roared and surged forward. Chloe was suddenly surrounded by men in white tunics on all sides, almost knocking her off her feet in the sudden tide. Cries and shouts filled the chamber as fists started flying. The floor became a sea of roaring men, old and young, snarling and grabbing hold of each other, rolling and grappling on the ground while the few consuls who’d kept their heads vainly cried out for order.
Chloe whirled, looking for Nilus, but she was shoved to the side and lost her balance until one of Amos’s soldiers helped her regain her feet. She pushed through when she saw Nilus’s balding head and finally grabbed the back of the man’s tunic in desperation, but when he turned she realized he wasn’t Nilus after all. She looked for Amos, but he was busy trying to restore calm.
Finally he bellowed, ‘Order!’
He teamed up with his men and they pulled consuls apart from each other, tossing them back toward their seats until he had claimed the speaking floor.
‘Order, order! All of you, by Aldus! Take your seats!’
Accustomed to commanding men on the field, his shout was like the roar of the god of justice himself. Fully armored, he paced the center of the floor.
‘Back in your places!’
As Amos gradually restored a semblance of normality there was a new outcry around the tall, gray-bearded figure of Consul Harod. He was still seated, looking surprised, a knife protruding from his ribs. His unseeing eyes didn’t blink as crimson blood bloomed on his tunic.
Nearby, Consul Anneas, a savage mark on his temple, was being restrained by one of Amos’s men, who stood behind him with a muscled arm around his neck. Consul Leon writhed in the grip of another soldier and pointed at Anneas. ‘It was his idea!’ he yelped.
‘And Nilus? Where is Nilus?’ Amos demanded.
‘He’s gone, sir,’ one of the soldiers called back.
‘Go to his home. Search the city,’ Amos barked. ‘Find him!’
Cloaked soldiers ran from the lyceum. With the floor now empty except for Amos and Chloe, she again raised her voice. ‘Does anyone here doubt what I am saying? Nilus murdered my father to become first consul. He then had Lord Philippos killed to hold on to power.’
She ran her eyes over the assembled citizens and consuls, who were looking uncertain as they realized the leadership of Phalesia had been thrown into disarray.
‘Now, in the meantime, this leaves us without a candidate for the election,’ Chloe said. ‘I suggest you nominate new candidates. And despite the fact that women cannot vote – a foolish rule if ever I’ve heard of one – I have a proposal. I suggest that for the next election, you nominate someone whose loyalty cannot be questioned. We have all had enough of conspiracies and betrayal. I suggest you consider a non-politician who understands the city’s needs and also knows the workings of the Assembly.’
Every set of eyes was suddenly on Amos, who stood in the center of the lyceum, looking both stern and commanding in his armor. Many of the consuls had been allies of Aristocles, and now they began to nod and murmur to each other, much to the surprise of Amos, who looked utterly speechless.
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Chloe said.
Later, back at the temple, Chloe was pleased to see her sister sit up on the pallet and reach for the water jug herself. Sophia’s arm was a little unsteady as she poured water into her cup, but Chloe knew not to help her.
‘The thing I don’t understand,’ Chloe said with a frown, ‘is why you were in Nikolas’s camp in the first place.’
Sophia looked uncomfortable. ‘I thought that I could help the wounded, and maybe I could do something to stop the fighting. But then he died, and the fighting stopped anyway, so I came home.’ She changed the subject. ‘What are you going to do about your studies at Athos?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You might be the next oracle.’
‘I don’t want to be an oracle.’
‘But if the visions keep coming . . .’
‘Maybe they won’t. I haven’t had another since I saw you.’ Sitting beside the pallet, Chloe reached out and stroked her sister’s hair.
‘But it came true.’
There was silence for a time.
‘I can’t believe Nilus escaped,’ Sophia said.
‘We’ll find him. But at the moment Dion needs me.’ Chloe looked in the direction of the harbor. ‘I’m going to have to leave you again for a time, but I promise I’ll be back.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘To find a ship. We have no idea who this hunchback was, or where he was going. Dion won’t even know what’s happened. Time is running out.’
‘You heard Amos,’ Sophia said. ‘They’ll be long gone.’
Chloe glanced at her staff, resting against the wall nearby. ‘There’s still a chance to catch them.’
27
It was late at night and, as he often did, Dion stood outside his bedchamber, on the tallest balcony of his palace, looking out at the distant horizon. A stiff breeze blew a chill wind against his face and snaking clouds passed across the moon, interspersing the ocean with moonlight and shadow. Down below, he could see one of the guards standing outside the palace walls; he waved, but the man didn’t wave back.
Leaning forward on the rail, his thoughts turned once again to Chloe and then to the woman he would soon marry. Chloe was alive, and he felt like a black hole in his heart had been replaced with sunlight. But he was having a child with Isobel. In time, he would come to love her. And the idea of having a son or daughter brought him more pleasure than he’d ever thought it would.
Lost in thought, he heard a throat clear behind him.
Dion whirled. A brawny man with a strangely stooped posture stood on the balcony, just a few feet away, regarding him with a cold stare.
Seeing the hunched shoulders and thick black hair, the dark eyes and grim expression, Dion was shocked to recognize Kyphos from his visit to Malakai. Like Dion, he was unarmed, but though shorter, the hunchback was by far the bigger man.
Dion’s eyes narrowed. ‘How did you get in here?’ He swiftly turned and leaned forward over the balcony rail. ‘Guard!’ he called out.
‘He can’t hear y
ou,’ Kyphos said.
The clouds crossed over the moon and in the sudden light Dion saw that the guard was leaning awkwardly against the wall, his dead body propped up by his spear. The sight sent a chill down Dion’s spine. He spun again to face the man who’d accosted him in his private quarters.
‘Don’t worry,’ Kyphos growled. ‘If I wanted you dead, you would be.’
‘What do you want?’
Kyphos reached into a pocket and took out something long and golden, a piece of jewelry. He spread it on his meaty palm for Dion to see, displaying the length of delicate chain and the beautifully crafted dolphin, rotating it.
‘We have your young bride. She tells me she is with child. Your child.’
Dion’s heart beat out of time. ‘If you harm her . . .’
‘Listen carefully, Dion of Xanthos. You belong to King Palemon now. You and I . . . We are going to travel together. You are going to change your shape . . . and you are going to carry me to Malakai.’
Dion clenched his fists. A stone was plummeting through his chest, sinking heavily into his stomach. Rage and fear swamped him in equal parts. But he knew he couldn’t fight the hunchback. He had to think about Isobel. Lifting his chin, he took a step forward, looming over Kyphos and staring him down. He pointedly touched the silver necklace at his throat. ‘I cannot control my changing.’
Kyphos smiled. ‘I am sure you can.’
The warrior from the frozen north suddenly rushed toward Dion and grabbed him. Pinned against the rail, Dion struggled to hold back his opponent’s powerful arms, but found himself off-balance. The two men wrestled, but despite his frame, Kyphos’s strength was overwhelming. The hunchback freed an arm to rip the silver necklace from Dion’s neck and threw it over the balcony. It was a long drop. Seconds passed before Dion heard the tinkle of metal striking the ground.
Kyphos’s nostrils flared as Dion tried to fend him off. Finally the hunchback gained the upper hand.
His face grim, Kyphos shoved Dion hard.
Dion found himself teetering backward uncontrollably. It was a drop of three stories – far enough to kill him if he struck his head on the paving stones. For a moment he wasn’t sure if he would fall, but then Kyphos pushed him again.
A heartbeat later he was in the air. His limbs flailed as his body turned over and over. He could sense the ground coming up to smash his body and, without meaning to, he felt his body . . . changing.
His scream became a piercing animal cry. His body thickened and elongated, mist enveloping him from head to toe. He realized what had happened only when he swept his wings down at the ground in time to arrest his fall. Two more sweeps of his wings lifted what was now a black-scaled dragon high. He flew up until he was eye to eye with the hunchback on the balcony.
He parted his jaws and roared in Kyphos’s face. But his enemy was undeterred.
Kyphos pointed out to sea. ‘To Malakai. Understand? Or we’ll cut your pretty bride’s throat.’
Dion roared again, a cry of pure rage and frustration, the sound shattering the stillness of the night. The barking of dogs and shouts of alarm filled the air, waking the citizens of Xanthos from their slumber.
Kyphos met Dion’s pale, almond-eyed stare and pointed again, out to sea.
The dragon snorted and lowered its head, and Kyphos climbed onto its back.
28
The lean galley pounded the waves. The sail pocketed the wind, sending the vessel leaping forward like a racehorse whipped at the gate. It was the same fast Xanthian ship that had carried Chloe to Phalesia, and she now stood in the very center of the vessel, legs apart, riding the motion of the sea.
Chloe’s jaw was clenched tightly as she clutched the staff in her hand. The silver cone glowed fiercely, summoning strange forces. She was channeling the wind, gathering it and throwing it at the sail, using it to make the ship ride the sea so fast that the hull was skimming over the waves, leaping from one set to the next.
She drew on the inferno within her, feeding the flame, calling forth the silver fire and then releasing it through her body time and time again. Meanwhile, as the captain called them to greater efforts, the oarsmen were pulling at the sea, oars churning the water into foam, wide eyes on the woman in their midst.
‘Remember, lads!’ called the captain, a veteran sailor with a round, bright-red face. ‘These raiders have captured a lady of Phalesia, the future wife of our king! Pull hard and you’ll all be rewarded!’ He crossed the deck to speak to the complement of twelve Phalesian hoplites, sourced at the last minute from Amos. ‘Men, keep your spears and swords close. If we catch ’em, we can’t allow harm to come to the lady. Our faith is in you.’
Chloe felt the encroaching grip of fatigue, but she used her anger and determination to keep going. The people they were trying to catch had killed Isobel’s father in cold blood, as well as High Priestess Marina. They’d beaten Sophia, and almost killed her too. They now had the mother of Dion’s unborn child, and the gods only knew what they intended to do with her. She forced herself to remember Dion’s excitement about becoming a father. After experiencing terrible darkness in his life, he had a chance to become truly happy. Whoever these people were, they couldn’t take that away from him.
She’d been sailing for two days now, and after her experiences at Athos, Chloe had become skilled at controlling the wind. The magi would be proud of her – if they ever forgave her for leaving. The glossy twist on her wind staff was showing only the slightest discoloration, and the color of the flame inside her was purest silver, with no taint to it at all. They’d long ago left Phalesia and then the island of Orius in their wake.
‘Sail ho!’ a youth standing at the bow called out.
The disciplined oarsmen continued to row, but everyone now tensed and looked to the captain. Some of the soldiers stood, unsteady on their feet as they shielded their eyes from the glare of the sun.
‘What ship?’
‘A small vessel,’ the lookout replied. ‘Single sail. We’re gaining on them!’
Chloe called on more of the fire raging inside, feeling it surge, channeled into her hand and released through the staff. The mast creaked as the vessel picked up still more speed. She glanced behind her to see the helmsman change their course, and now when she peered ahead, along with the crew she saw a triangular sail. Soon she could make out figures on the deck.
They were warriors, pale-skinned men in strange garments, staring back at the approaching vessel. And seated in the middle of the mid-sized sailing boat was a blonde-haired woman wearing a crimson chiton. A soldier sat on either side of her, and her eyes were wide with terror. Isobel!
The sleek galley was rapidly gaining on its quarry, but the sailing boat’s speed was surprising. It changed course, and Chloe frowned as the movement of the sail revealed another woman, standing in the middle of the vessel. Chloe could only see her back, but she was raven-haired and slender, and wore a supple, figure-hugging garment the color of the deep blue sea.
Like Chloe, she was clutching a staff . . . A staff with a metal twist of silver on its top.
Chloe remembered what the magus at Athos had told her about Nisos and the magic he’d brought to Aleuthea.
The people who had taken Isobel used magic.
The distance between the two vessels closed to a hundred paces. The woman slowly turned, facing Chloe. Her cold eyes narrowed. The sorceress was beautiful, with high cheekbones and straight hair as dark as deepest night. But her face was like stone; there was no compassion in it at all.
The conical spiral on top of the woman’s staff suddenly glowed fiercely and the sorceress’s lips moved.
It happened in an instant. A wave rose up, growing larger and larger with every passing moment. Forming between the two vessels, charging like a raging beast directly toward the pursuing galley, it sucked up the ocean around it as the sorceress’s magical wind gathered force. The wave grew to the height of the galley’s mast, so immense that the oarsmen turned in their benches and cried o
ut with fear.
Chloe had thought her abilities had been tested on the journey. She now realized that her true test was at hand.
Pushing past the transfixed crew, she raced to the front of the boat. Facing the looming wall of water, she lifted her staff high and cried out, drawing on more of the silver fire than she ever had before. She concentrated on the knowledge that in the open sea there was nothing to stop the wind for leagues; it was all around her, ready to be gathered and unleashed. Her skin prickled and her vision blurred as she unleashed the greatest force she’d ever controlled.
A second, challenging wave now formed in front of the Xanthian galley and grew in an instant, becoming so big that it matched the wave heading for the ship.
The two waves sped directly toward each other. If the sorceress’s was victorious, the galley was doomed.
The great walls of water collided, just fifty paces ahead, and spray filled the sky, shooting in all directions. Chaotic wind ripped the spray apart, tossing it in strange spirals and directions the laws of nature would never allow. The sea became a churned-up mess of peaks and troughs. Unable to change its path, the galley sped straight into the raging water, the crewmen crying out in fear as the bow lifted nearly to the vertical before slamming into a deep valley and almost tipping over. Chloe fell to the boat’s deck, gripping the gunwales on either side as water crashed over her head, soaking her through. She coughed, tasting salt, then wiped the stinging liquid from her eyes.
But the two waves were gone, and the galley’s tumultuous movement finally began to subside.
‘Onward!’ the captain roared.
Chloe climbed back to her feet. Legs apart, staff in hand, she drew in a deep breath. Eye to eye with the cold stare of the sorceress, she summoned yet another wave, while her opponent simultaneously called forth her own.
The cone-shaped silver device at the top of Chloe’s staff glowed before subsiding. At almost the exact same instant, the matching device on the sorceress’s staff lit up brighter than the most luminous moon, almost blinding.
Copper Chain (The Shifting Tides Book 3) Page 18
