Finn entered grandly. Chloe trailed after him, but she couldn’t help herself.
Her eyes immediately went to Dion.
He was slumped against the rear wall with an iron collar around his neck and his hands behind his back. There were manacles around his wrists, connected by a chain to a metal hoop embedded in the wall. His sharp jaw was clean-shaven, his flaxen hair was oiled, and his tunic was clean – but his downcast face was pained; she could see that at a glance. She felt a surge of emotion, wanting nothing more than to rush to his side, but she tore her eyes away.
Her gaze then moved to the tall king standing at one of the windows and staring out to sea.
Palemon was everything Finn had said he was: tall and regal, with flowing dark hair streaked with gray, and a long beard fashioned into braids. He wore a bleached leather vest, black trousers, and high boots. When he turned to acknowledge Finn’s entry, his eyes were narrowed and penetrating, his strong jaw fixed with determination.
Chloe’s hands felt clammy and sweat broke out on her brow. She was suddenly extremely grateful for Finn’s presence, for his confidence and habit of drawing attention.
‘Great King,’ Finn said, walking with his head held high to the center of the room. ‘I hope this day finds you well.’ He gave a complicated bow, twirling his cloak, and then glared at Chloe.
Shaking herself, Chloe scurried to stand just behind Finn before sinking to her knees and putting her head on the floor. She wondered if she was doing it right: the customs of the south were novel to say the least, and she only had her memories of the sun king’s court in Ilea to go by. Glancing at Finn, she saw him jerk his chin for her to get up, and climbed to her feet, although she kept her eyes fixed firmly on the floor.
‘Who is this?’ Palemon’s voice was like his appearance: bold, commanding, solid. His accent had the same clipped inflections as the men who’d taken Liana.
‘She is my scribe, Great King,’ Finn said.
Palemon’s gaze flickered to Chloe. ‘A female scribe?’
‘The city is short on scribes,’ Finn said with a smile and a shrug.
Palemon’s eyes lingered on her for an instant before dismissing her.
‘Once again,’ Finn continued, ‘I thank you for allowing me to chronicle your rise to greatness. I am sure you have many matters to attend to, and so I will keep these visits short. Please, continue doing what you were doing before I arrived. May I begin by taking note of your description?’
‘Whatever you think best.’ Palemon turned back to the window, staring out to sea, in the direction of the Lost Souls, the peaked islands that marked the sunken city of Aleuthea.
‘Close to seven feet tall,’ Finn said softly, ‘with eyes like coal – eyes that can penetrate a man’s flesh to peer into his soul. Scribe?’
With a start, Chloe remembered what she was supposed to be doing. She swiftly unrolled the papyrus, looking around for somewhere to work before finally seating herself on the floor. She took two small clay pots out of her satchel and set them down on the ground, the first containing water, the second pigment. Taking a reed, she dipped it in water and then rubbed it over the powdered coal.
She wrote as Finn elaborated, describing his subject’s virtues. Her hand moved furiously, and Chloe silently thanked her father, Aristocles, for insisting that she study at the temple.
Palemon suddenly turned. ‘The king of Xanthos tells me that recently wildren roamed the seas, the land, and the skies, but that this is no more. Tell me, chronicler, is this true?’
Chloe fumbled, making a mistake in her work. As soon as she heard that Dion had given Palemon information, she couldn’t stop herself from staring at him. But he made no sign at all, still sitting slumped and dejected, staring at the ground. Her heart reached out to him as she thought about how hard it must be for him to give Palemon the knowledge he wanted without betraying the people he loved.
‘Yes, Great King,’ Finn said. ‘The eldran king, Eiric, blew the horn, and—’
‘What name did you just say?’ Palemon’s eyes flashed. He glanced at Dion, and then rounded on Finn. ‘Did you just say Eiric?’ He marched over to Dion and put his fingers under his captive’s chin, lifting Dion’s head. ‘This one told me his name was Triton.’
‘Triton is correct, Great King,’ Finn said hurriedly. ‘He has one eye, and leads with a strong hand—’
Palemon let Dion’s head fall as he turned again to Finn. ‘Then why did you say Eiric?’
Chloe knew Finn well enough to see the tightness in his eyes. Even so, his manner was still poised and confident, despite the danger they were in.
‘Eiric is the Ilean name for him,’ Finn said. ‘In their ancient language, it means “He with One-Eye . . .”’
Chloe had a sudden realization, accompanied by a faint stirring of hope. Dion was lying to Palemon. The fact that he was filling his enemy’s head with nonsense told her that perhaps he wasn’t as broken as he appeared to be.
‘Hmm . . .’ Palemon began to pace the length of the room, evidently thinking about the eldren and their king.
‘Great King.’ Finn licked his lips.
‘What is it?’
‘Today I will set the scene, taking note of physical descriptions and principal actors, and tomorrow we will begin on the detailed story of your exile and return.’ Finn paused. ‘But there is one thing I would like to see first. The great sword that you wielded when you conquered the city. Perhaps we could fetch it? And on the way you could tell me about the land you came from. My scribe can remain here and take note of this impressive audience chamber, with its throne and royal captive.’
Palemon glanced at Chloe. He waved a hand.
‘Scribe.’ Finn nodded at her. ‘Make sure to capture the full magnificence of the throne.’ He then turned to Palemon. ‘Now, King Palemon. What was it like? This land across the sea?’
‘It was cold,’ Palemon said. ‘I did not realize how cold it was until I came to these lands . . .’
Palemon and Finn walked out of the room together, their voices drifting away.
Knowing that the time had come, Chloe’s chest began heaving nearly as fast as the tempo of her heart. She collected her materials and quickly shuffled over to Dion until she was sitting beside him.
‘Dion,’ she whispered. ‘It’s me.’
Close up, the suffering was written across his face. Her eyes burning, she saw him through blurred vision as she waited for a reaction. Finn had said he was a broken man, but even that description hadn’t come close to what she was seeing now. She prayed for some sign that he was still in there, somewhere.
‘Please, Dion. It’s Chloe.’ She blinked and a tear fell from her eye, trickling down her cheek. ‘Please . . . Dion, look up.’
Suddenly he spoke in an undertone, growling with surprising vehemence. ‘I know it’s you. Leave. Get out while you can.’
‘We’re here to help you.’
‘I can’t be helped.’ He lifted his head to look up, and now the expression on his face was pure malice. ‘I’m waiting for my opportunity, and then I’m going to kill him.’
‘Dion, listen to me. You can’t. You’ll be throwing your life away.’
‘My life is gone already. They killed her in front of me. They took all I had.’
The low murmur of Finn’s conversation with Palemon suddenly returned, becoming louder. Chloe’s breath caught. As soon as the two men entered the room, she realized it was too late to leave Dion’s side. With a shaking hand she dipped her stylus and started making marks on the parchment, pretending to be taking note of her surroundings, including the chained-up man beside her.
But then there was a new sound of approaching footsteps and she heard a strong, female voice.
‘Sire,’ the woman called, her speech as sharp as a knife, telling Chloe that she was someone who had no qualms about interrupting her king. ‘I need to speak with you. Alone.’
‘This is Zara,’ Palemon said to Finn. ‘I am sure you will hav
e no problem taking note of her appearance.’
Chloe glanced up and her eyes shot wide open.
The cold-faced sorceress she’d faced on the Maltherean Sea stood barely a dozen paces away. The woman was exactly as she’d been when they’d faced each other in a contest of wind: straight, midnight-black hair, high cheekbones, brilliant blue eyes, and skin like stone. If she saw Chloe’s face . . . the deception would be over.
‘Who is this, sitting there with the half-breed?’ The sorceress’s eyes narrowed when she saw Chloe. Chloe kept her head down, like a lowly scribe should, allowing her long, dark hair to fall around her face.
Finn’s voice sparkled with forced jocularity. ‘She is my scribe, and documenting the physical features of your captive – eye color, hair color . . . I’m sure you understand. However, I am here to chronicle, not to impede. Scribe, you are finished. Come.’
The sorceress glared, but Chloe continued to keep her head down and back to the woman. She collected her possessions and then hurriedly followed Finn out of the chamber.
‘Well?’ Palemon raised an eyebrow, but Zara waited until the fool and his scribe had departed before she spoke.
‘I have news, sire. It is as we predicted. A great fleet is embarking from Lamara. King Kargan leads personally.’
Palemon looked out at the sea. ‘So, sorceress, the moment presents itself, our crisis and opportunity. Everything hangs in the balance. You are certain you can expose the sunken city?’
‘Not all of it, of course, but from Cape Cush I believe we can hold the sea at bay while we explore the vault beneath the Great Tower of Aleuthea.’
‘Hmm.’ Palemon rubbed his eyes; his sleep had been even worse lately, visions of his people in Necropolis making him cry out in the night. ‘Let us say for a moment that we are successful – if we are not, then nothing will help us. Let us say that we find dozens of magical chains. How would you suggest we capture so many eldren? It has been a long time since a half-breed turned up in the city.’
‘A carefully planned raid. We take the dragons we have to Sindara, arriving in the dead of night. We collar and capture as many as we can before returning and chaining them.’
Palemon shook his head. ‘There’s so much that can go wrong.’
‘There is no other way.’
‘How far is Cape Cush?’
‘With soldiers and slaves . . .’ Zara replied. ‘No more than a few days’ travel.’
‘This Arch of Nisos? You still have no idea what it might do?’ Palemon asked.
‘None.’
His scowled, but he finally nodded. ‘Six dragons are not enough to achieve our goals. If we can get more chains from Aleuthea then we can bend more beasts to our will. Your magi are ready?’
‘They are, sire. All we need is the order.’
‘Then tell Kyphos to prepare for our departure.’
42
The day after visiting the palace, Chloe sat in a corner of The Trader’s Rest, staring into the dregs of her tea. She heard a voice call her name and looked up to see Cob approaching. He glanced around before seating himself opposite her.
‘Where have you been?’ Chloe asked.
‘Exploring. Talking to people. Learning. Aren’t you supposed to be with Finn?’
Chloe explained what had happened, telling Cob about Dion’s quest for revenge and her almost being seen by the sorceress. ‘And so Finn thinks it best I don’t go back with him.’
‘He has the right of it,’ Cob said. ‘He’s there now? At the palace?’
Chloe nodded. ‘He’s hired a real scribe. He’ll simply say that he finally found a man.’
‘Fair enough.’ Cob sighed. ‘So the poor lad’s not as broken as he appears.’
‘He’s vengeful,’ she said. ‘I’m worried that he’ll do something that will get him killed.’
Cob rubbed at the wrinkles on his forehead before sighing again. ‘Chained as he is, I can’t see a way to free him. You think Palemon would ransom him?’
‘Not for gold. For ships, maybe.’
He shook his head. ‘Dion would die rather than give up the fleet he’s built.’
‘I know,’ Chloe said sadly.
‘Listen,’ Cob said. ‘While you and Finn have been busy . . . I think I might know where your friend is.’
Chloe looked up sharply.
‘People talk,’ Cob said with a shrug. ‘They’re keeping dragons in that tower, somewhere in a vault underneath. Meanwhile anyone with odd-colored eyes gets rounded up and is never seen again. When you put the two together . . .’
Finn entered the tavern. Scanning the room, he finally saw Cob and Chloe and hurried over. ‘I have news.’
‘Is it Dion?’ Chloe asked. ‘Is he all right?’
‘Just as you last saw him. Didn’t meet my eyes, not once.’
‘What is it?’ Cob asked.
‘They’re planning some kind of magic, something big,’ Finn said. ‘Parting the sea, they called it. There’s a promontory a few days’ march from here – Cape Cush . . . Cob and I saw it from the Liberty when we last came to Malakai. It’s the closest point between the mainland and the Lost Souls. Everyone’s going there. They’re assembling slaves and almost all their soldiers on the shore.’
Chloe lifted her head. ‘This could be our chance. While they’re away, we can—’
‘No such luck, I’m afraid.’ Finn interrupted. ‘Palemon wants me there, and he’s bringing Dion too.’
There was silence for a time as they pondered. Chloe again remembered the Oracle’s words, a suggestion of danger, a fork in the road, rather than prophecy. If unchallenged, they will gain the power of artifacts better left at the bottom of the sea.
‘I have an idea,’ she said slowly. ‘The sorcerers plan to part the sea. We all know the reason why. There is something they want in the sunken city. Something important.’ She met Cob and Finn’s eyes. ‘We can’t let them have it.’
‘But how can we—’ Cob began.
‘There’s only one way I can think of them going about it.’ In response to their puzzled expressions, Chloe explained. ‘The four materia – gold, silver, copper, and iron – each correspond to a power. Gold can bring light. Silver can harness the wind. Copper can manipulate sound. Iron can project fire.’ She paused. ‘Only one power would allow them to part the sea. They are going to use the wind.’
Cob and Finn exchanged glances.
Chloe continued, ‘We’ve worked out that they brought perhaps a dozen sorcerers with them from the place they left. Have you seen any in the streets lately? My guess is they are all busy working on the spell. Something that powerful is going to require their combined strength. But,’ she said slowly, ‘wind is dangerous and unpredictable. The magic is easily disrupted.’
‘What are you saying?’ Finn asked.
‘I think I can break the spell.’
Cob frowned, while Finn looked merely puzzled.
‘Think about it,’ Chloe said. ‘The sea parts, exposing the city. They enter.’ She clapped her hands together, making Cob jump. ‘The sea rushes back in.’
The old sailor’s brow furrowed. ‘We’d kill them all. It would be chaos.’
‘And in that chaos we could free Dion.’
‘How?’ Finn asked.
‘With Liana’s help.’ She held out both her hands, and first Cob, and then Finn, clasped her palm. ‘And with yours.’
It was just after dawn, a time when only a few early risers walked the streets. Chloe forced down her fear as she followed Finn to the gaping maw of the archway at the base of the Sky Tower. This time, she wasn’t pretending to be a scribe. She clutched her reassembled staff in one hand, the silver spiral just above her clenched fingers. This time, she was ready to fight.
Chloe’s mouth tightened. Her friend was somewhere under the tower. Liana had come to Chloe’s aid when she’d been drifting on the Maltherean Sea.
Now Liana needed her.
Two soldiers stood guard outside, both holding huge
crossbows, the weapons cocked and ready. Pale-skinned men from across the sea, they were clad in armor of metal links and wore two-handed swords in sheaths strapped to their backs. The scars on their hands and their cold-eyed stares made it clear that these were men who weren’t afraid of fighting.
As she and Finn approached the guards, Chloe saw something on the ground that almost made her stop and stare. It was a faint, reddish-brown smear, staining the paved stones of the road. Chloe swallowed, remembering how Isobel had met her end. With an effort she kept walking.
Wearing his expensive crimson cloak, Finn strode up to the closest soldier, a young man with a bristling black beard, and looked him straight in the eye.
‘I am Fustalonious, king’s chronicler, here on the orders of King Palemon.’
The two soldiers lifted their crossbows and exchanged glances.
‘Let us in,’ Chloe said firmly.
‘Who are you?’ The bearded soldier asked Chloe. He glanced at her staff, seeing the silver twist at the top. His frown deepened. ‘You are not from—’
Chloe pointed her staff at the guard and released her power. In an instant the silver device flared up with white light and a blast of air struck him in the center of his chest. His eyes shot wide open as he flew back and slammed against the tower wall. With a sound like the crack of a whip, his back broke before he crumpled.
The next soldier fumbled for the lever of his crossbow as she turned to him. Chloe brought forth a second surge of inner fire, feeling it flow through her body, channeled into the silver. She leveled her staff and wind punched into his chest, throwing him back against the stone, his feet several inches above the ground as his face became filled with terror.
Chloe’s eyes narrowed as she thought about the smear of Isobel’s blood on the ground. She walked forward, still holding the staff pointed at the soldier, with the constant surge of silver flame cascading through her mind, scattering her thoughts but leaving her anger intact. She summoned more of the white fire, her staff glowing fiercely as she moved it from low to high, sending the man sliding up the tower wall until he was high above the ground. His eyes were wild as he shook his head from side to side.
Copper Chain (The Shifting Tides Book 3) Page 26