‘I’ve seen it before at the Assembly,’ Nilus said, spreading his hands. ‘The more a swift agreement is needed, the more the consuls divide into factions. And the voting men . . . They don’t know the true state of our finances, but nor do they want to know. They want to belong to a proud, strong nation, and that is all they care about. The ark was sacred, and now we say it isn’t, but it’s still sitting there, high in the Temple of Aldus, with an eternal flame shining on it night and day. Some consuls say that their opponents – and you – simply want to take away a beloved public monument, and use the gold to enrich your personal coffers. When Aristocles reminds them that the ancient Aleutheans were victorious against Marrix only because they sealed the horn inside that very golden ark, he makes a convincing argument.’
Nikolas nodded. Nilus wasn’t telling him anything new, but it was useful to know where he stood. ‘So where a king would simply do what’s best and damn the people, Aristocles is weak enough to listen to weak voices, and weak enough to need weak allies in order to stay in power.’
Nilus protested. ‘Our system of governance is different, King, but it has its strengths. Phalesia’s great culture and prosperity is in many ways due to the fact every voice is heard at the lyceum. Our—’
‘Enough,’ Nikolas interrupted. ‘You’re a canny man, Nilus. You know who plans to vote with the first consul?’
‘He has his supporters. I know them all.’
‘And which way will the vote go?’
‘It will be close, but Aristocles is persuasive, and he is speaking words that his listeners want to hear. Phalesia is a proud nation. He will win the vote.’
‘And what then will be Phalesia’s contribution to our collective defense? The Ileans will be back.’
Nilus pondered. ‘I would suppose that Aristocles is already seeking alternative ways to fund the rebuilding of our forces. A proposal for income generation through taxation and trade tariffs will be debated, most likely in tandem with a loan from Sarsica. In time, another vote will ensue, this one with an outcome much closer to your heart, King Nikolas.’ He smiled. ‘Remember, democracy is directing a theatre of unwilling participants, not leading an army of loyal followers.’
‘And how long might that take?’
‘Well . . . It’s difficult to say.’
Nikolas nodded. ‘I want you to do something for me. I’d like to speak, in person, with those who will support Aristocles in the coming vote. I wish to have my say. Consul Nilus, please give me a list of their names and where I can find them.’
Nilus frowned. ‘I’m not sure if . . .’
‘If you’re not up to the task, I’m sure there are others who can give me the same names . . .’ Nikolas’s voice lowered. ‘Other consuls I can work with.’
Nilus was a long time in answering. He opened his mouth and then closed it, brow furrowing as he considered his position. ‘I can do it. Rather than give you a list, though, I’ll take you to each consul myself. I might need a few hours . . .’
Nikolas waved a hand at one of his nearby guardsmen. ‘This is Nestor. He has a perfect memory. Names and where I can find them. Begin.’
Nilus took a deep breath.
Aristocles was working late in his villa. Though he was speaking earnestly to his guest, Carolas, a young and ambitious consul charged with procuring supplies for the army, another part of him wondered where his two daughters were. Chloe and Sophia had left to make some purchases in the agora but that was some time ago now.
Concentrating on the task at hand, he paused in his speech as Aglea, a matronly servant, poured the wine, then with a nod of thanks he resumed.
‘So, my friend, we must choose our moment carefully. I need you to prepare the cost of recruiting, training, and equipping an army to match the size of the force Nikolas can field. Don’t hide what you are doing, obtain quotations from everyone you need, make the tanners fight over each other to give you a price for leather and the dyers argue about the qualities of their indigo. Word will get around, firstly that we need a vast quantity of silver to match our forces to the Xanthians, and secondly that the wealth will spread its way throughout the city. In a few weeks they’ll be begging for a motion for funding to cross the floor.’
Carolas slowly nodded. ‘I can do that, First Consul.’
‘Excellent,’ Aristocles said. ‘I’ll send Nikolas to see you in the coming days. I want him to see how serious you are about invigorating our army. He is a military man—’
Consul Nilus burst into the villa’s reception, startling the two seated men. His eyes widening with surprise, Aristocles saw that Amos, the veteran captain of the city guard, was with him.
Nilus’s round face was red; he looked like he’d run all the way to the villa. Amos was barely out of breath but his craggy face was filled with concern. Aside from his expression he looked the same as ever, an athletic man rarely out of armor, with short curly hair, a scar on his forehead, and stubble on his strong chin.
‘Nilus, what—?’
‘Get out of here!’ Nilus uncharacteristically barked at Carolas. ‘Now!’
Aristocles opened and closed his mouth, frowning as his puzzled guest looked to him for orders. He nodded, and the perplexed young man rose from his seat, glancing from face to face as he moved past the two newcomers and exited the villa.
‘Amos, what’s this about?’
Amos’s voice was grim. ‘Consul Nilus grabbed me just a moment ago. You need to hear what he has to say.’
Nilus held up his hand. He waited until Aristocles’ guest was long gone before speaking rapidly. ‘Aristocles, you have to get out of here. Now.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Listen to me. Nikolas is planning something. For tonight. We’re only fortunate he has no experience of politics. He thinks he’s hiding his plans but they’re plain to see. He’s asked me for a list, the names of all the consuls who are your closest supporters.’
‘And you simply gave him this list?’
‘You know as well as I do that if I hadn’t given him the names another would have. You have enemies in the Assembly, all of whom would happily see your allies get a rude visit from the king of Xanthos. Of itself the request seems innocent enough.’
‘I don’t understand. What is he planning?’ Aristocles asked.
‘What do you think?’ Nilus looked at him like he was a fool. ‘He’s going to kill them.’
Aristocles stood up so quickly that his stool fell backward. ‘He wouldn’t dare!’
‘He didn’t want the names himself, he’s giving them to his personal king’s guard. Have you noticed how many Xanthian soldiers are out tonight?’
Now it was Amos who spoke. ‘First Consul, pull your head out of the sand. This is happening.’
‘If he plans on killing your allies in the Assembly, what do you think he intends for you?’
Aristocles felt light-headed.
‘Listen, Aristocles, you know I believe in the Assembly. If I am not the ally I’ve convinced Nikolas I am, he will only find another. Then where will we be? You would be dead, and so would I.’
‘But he’s engaged to my daughter.’
‘And when he marries Chloe he’ll have a claim on Phalesia. He may intend to dissolve the Assembly of Consuls. He may even intend to become king of Phalesia, as well as Xanthos. He has a plan.’
Events were moving too quickly. Aristocles was a meticulous thinker. He worked in longer timescales than this. ‘Can’t Amos summon his men?’ He turned to the captain. ‘Can’t you do something, Amos?’
Amos shook his head. ‘You heard Consul Nilus, Nikolas’s king’s guard is out in numbers.’ His face mirrored the way Aristocles himself felt; it was the look of a leader caught unawares. ‘I could gather my men . . .’ He scratched the stubble on his chin. ‘He’s been planning this for some time.’
Nilus spoke. ‘Or he may have been holding this option in reserve. First Consul, do you really want confrontation between the soldiers of Xant
hos and Phalesia? Xanthos would win. What would happen to the Assembly, then?’
Aristocles drew in a shaky breath. ‘By the gods,’ he whispered.
Amos cocked his head to listen, then ran out to the terrace. A moment later he re-entered, his face drained of color. ‘There’s fighting in the agora. I can see Xanthian soldiers heading this way.’
Nilus cursed. ‘I thought we’d have more time than this.’
‘Who will warn the others?’ Aristocles asked.
Nilus shook his head. ‘It’s too late for them.’ He glanced at Amos. ‘And Amos . . . Nikolas has remarked on your loyalty to the first consul more than once.’
Amos clenched and unclenched his fists. ‘First Consul, tell me what to do.’
Aristocles looked at Nilus. ‘Nikolas will find out that you’ve warned me.’
‘Or he’ll find out that when the fighting started I immediately sought out the captain here to tell him to stand down and avoid bloodshed. I found him here with you.’
Realization dawned; there was no other option. Aristocles had to flee.
Nilus turned to Amos. ‘Amos, I think you know what has to happen.’ He pointed to the side of his head. ‘Make sure to draw blood.’ He nodded at Aristocles. ‘Take care of him. I’ll do what I can from here.’
Aristocles cast pleading eyes on Nilus. ‘My daughters?’
‘I’ll look after them, you have my word.’
‘Nilus, you can’t let Chloe marry him.’
‘One thing at a time. First we get you to safety. Then we can make plans.’
‘I want to see them.’
Amos shook his head. ‘It’s too risky.’
‘We’ll head for Tanus,’ Aristocles said, his voice shaking. ‘Queen Zanthe is a friend. When things settle here, I’ll make my return.’
‘You have gold?’ Nilus asked.
Aristocles nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘Take all of it.’
Aristocles lifted his chin. ‘I am the rightful leader of the Assembly of Consuls. I will return.’
Amos drew his sword, and the sound sent a shiver down Aristocles’ spine. With a sharp jab, he smashed the hilt across Nilus’s head.
13
‘Chloe!’
Someone said her name, anxiously tapping her on the arm.
Busy in the agora, browsing the bustling night market with her younger sister, Chloe turned in surprise. She recognized the blue-trimmed robe and copper medallion of a priestess of Aeris, but it was rare for the soft-spoken healers to be so bold.
‘Sophia,’ Chloe called to her sister.
Sophia turned in surprise and saw Chloe with the priestess. Leaving behind the jewelry she’d been inspecting, the girl tucked a lock of hair behind her ear as she came over to join them.
‘Alexis,’ Sophia said when she saw the priestess, who was young, just a few years older than she was.
Chloe nodded, recognizing the name. Sophia had recently started training at the temple, just as Chloe had at the same age. It was a common rite of passage for daughters of the nobility, their studies commencing soon after becoming a woman. Though Sophia was only twelve, her manner had changed since she’d started spending so much time with so many girls older than herself, making Chloe wonder if she’d ever been as confident at the same age.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you,’ the priestess said, ‘but there’s . . . an injured boy at the temple. We need additional help.’ The priestess’s manner was strange; she seemed particularly worried. ‘Could you . . . Could you come with me?’
‘Of course,’ Chloe said. ‘Should my sister come also?’
‘Yes.’ Alexis nodded. ‘Both of you. Come. Please follow me.’
Chloe took Sophia by the hand but the girl glared at her older sister and shook her hand free. Together they followed the priestess away from the market and crossed the expanse of multicolored paving stones before climbing the broad marble steps at the agora’s edge. The path leveled off before it split and they took the fork leading to the grand colonnaded temple with its peaked roof, nearly as familiar to Chloe as the villa where she lived with her father.
Hearing a commotion back in the direction of the market, she glanced over her shoulder and saw movement in the crowd. A gap opened up and she saw several soldiers of Nikolas’s king’s guard fighting with a pair of Phalesian soldiers with blue cloaks. She heard shouting before the crowd swallowed them again.
Chloe shook her head. It was never a good idea for soldiers from different nations to be housed in the same city.
‘Please.’ The priestess grabbed her arm, steering her until she’d once more started walking to the temple. ‘Come.’
‘What are the boy’s injuries?’ Chloe asked as they entered.
Though it was nighttime, braziers filled with crimson coals framed both sides of the stepped entrance and every marble column had a flaming torch on a pole resting against it. The Temple of Aeris was often full at odd hours – sickness tended to strike more often during the night – so Chloe wasn’t surprised to see dozens of people inside. Rugs, cushions, and bed pallets littered the floor. A groaning man clutched his belly while a priestess the same age as Alexis tried to get him to swallow a potion. More priestesses knelt by prone figures, administering medicines, discussing treatments, soothing family members and bandaging wounds. The scent of incense dominated the interior. The aroma was cloying, despite the fact that with only the columns for walls there was nothing to block the gusts of wind that came in from the sea.
Chloe was surprised to see two soldiers of Nikolas’s king’s guard standing at the edge of the colonnade, close to the open air. They were watching the agora below and had hands on the hilts of their swords.
She and her younger sister were following the priestess along a cleared pathway near the edge of the columns, away from the busy healers. Seeing that they were approaching the pair of Xanthian soldiers, she called out to the priestess. ‘Where are you taking us? Where is the injured boy?’
‘Please.’ Alexis turned, and her eyes were pleading. ‘Follow.’
Her suspicions now raised by the presence of so many Xanthian soldiers, even in the Temple of Aeris, Chloe stopped. She folded her arms over her chest. ‘What is the extent of his injuries? You still haven’t said, Priestess.’
Chloe heard a scream and her gaze shot out to the agora.
She saw something she’d never expected to see.
A Xanthian soldier of the king’s guard pulled his sword out of a bearded consul’s chest, in the middle of the square, just a stone’s throw from where Chloe and her sister were standing. Liquid gushed out of the white-clad consul’s mouth; red stained his robe. Staggering, he lurched and then fell down, toppling to the side, before sprawling out on the paving stones.
Chloe gasped. She knew his name, Consul Charon. He was a gifted storyteller and was particularly fond of Sophia. He was one of her father’s closest allies.
Horrified by the sight of a harmless old man she knew well murdered in front of her, she grabbed her sister, pulling her close. She had always felt safe in the temple of her goddess; it was her refuge when she needed to escape the cares of the world. Now she turned to the pair of helmeted soldiers and realized they were both looking directly at her.
‘Chloe?’ Sophia was close to wailing. ‘What’s happening? Why did they do that?’
Nikolas had soldiers in the agora, and a pair watching Chloe ahead. She turned back the way she’d come and saw yet another pair of king’s guardsmen approaching from the other side. There was no escape.
Chloe prayed to the gods that whatever was happening, her father was safe. Perhaps he’d requested Nikolas’s help in suppressing a rebellion. Perhaps Nikolas had discovered that some of the consuls were traitors, working for masters in Ilea.
But she knew the truth in her heart. Nikolas had run out of patience with the endless deliberations, constant bickering, and pandering to factions in the Assembly. He’d taken matters into his own hands. By silencing the opposition
, he would secure the vote in favor of the swift outcome he needed.
Chloe bent down and hugged her sister, her eyes never leaving the two watching soldiers. She wondered how much Sophia understood about what was happening.
‘Is Father going to die too?’ Sophia asked in a broken voice.
Chloe felt tears on her cheeks and shook her head, but she couldn’t answer. Inwardly cursing Nikolas, hating him with every fiber of her being, she felt powerless. What would happen to her father?
And if Nikolas was bold enough to do this, what would happen to her?
She heard a throat clear behind her.
Whirling, Chloe saw Nikolas himself, standing with a wrinkled and pale-skinned old man in a black robe that covered him from head to toe. She recognized a priest of Balal by his robe and the flame on the plate-sized iron medallion hanging from his neck. But why was Nikolas here, and why bring a Xanthian priest to the Temple of Aeris?
She thrust her sister behind her as she defiantly met Nikolas’s gaze. He looked weary, but he was also dressed in the finest tunic she’d ever seen him wear, a gold-trimmed garment of silk.
‘Where is my father?’ Chloe was proud when her voice didn’t shake.
‘For the time being he is alive,’ Nikolas said softly. His eyes narrowed. ‘But what happens next depends on you.’
‘On me? I don’t—’
The priest stepped forward. His cold fingers took hold of Chloe’s hand, and she felt dread sink into her chest when he spoke.
‘Chloe daughter of Aristocles, tonight, in the sight of the gods, you are to be married . . .’
14
Liana bent over the circular stone basin and gazed at her reflection in the water. A young human woman with wide, frightened eyes stared back at her.
The young woman in the reflection wore a dirty brown tunic – stolen from a farm the previous day – and had shoulder-length hair the color of fire, dyed with henna. Her heart-shaped face was covered in streaks of mud but displayed what the humans might call a fragile beauty.
Liana was short for an eldran and her grass-green eyes were captivating rather than alien. Staring at her own face, she told herself to be brave. She could do this.
Silver Road (The Shifting Tides Book 2) Page 10
