‘Too big,’ Palemon grunted, pacing the length of the throne room, his brow furrowed in concentration. ‘Kargan has moved swiftly. The barges were ready to depart. They’ll cross the Shadrian Passage and bring the army across. Then the Ileans will be heading our way.’ Palemon looked out to sea, wondering what his next move should be. ‘These relics of Nisos the Archmagus work as they should. We have six sets of copper chains, but only one dragon, a dragon that won’t eat and grows weaker by the day.’ He pounded a fist into his palm. ‘I can feel it. We’re so close! Power. We need power. We need to seize the initiative if we are ever going to get the ships we need.’

When Kyphos didn’t reply, Palemon turned away from the window, glancing at the stocky warrior, who was gnawing at his lip.

‘You have something to say, Kyphos?’ Palemon walked over and stared down at him. ‘Out with it.’

‘Sire, while you and the sorceress have been busy in the Sky Tower, I’ve been spending time in the city. There is . . . something I’ve been meaning to show you. The solution to our problem might be closer than you think.’

‘How so?’

‘Come, let me show you. You can make your mind up for yourself.’

Kyphos led Palemon out of the palace and through the city streets. As the two men strode side by side, walking quickly, Palemon occasionally glanced at his right hand man but stayed silent. Together they followed the broad avenue that led to the harbor before turning into a side street that took them to the city’s main market square.

The market was bustling. Stall after stall lined the square’s perimeter, where people in colorful linen tunics and desert dwellers in loose burnooses browsed the goods on offer. A central fountain spilled water from the mouth of a dolphin into a marble basin, and aromas of grilling meat wafted over from some of the food vendors. Palemon cast Kyphos an inquisitive look, but the hunchback was grim-faced and close-mouthed as he crossed the square. Anyone who saw the imposing king, unmistakable by his gray-streaked braided beard, and the stooped frame of the man who walked at his side, blanched and moved swiftly out of the way.

Kyphos came to a halt in front of a stall, unremarkable compared to any of the others on both sides, where a dark-haired young woman was selling fruit and vegetables.

‘Watch,’ Kyphos said.

The woman handed an old priest in a faded yellow robe a heavy cluster of grapes. Placing the grapes in his basket, he handed out a copper coin, but the woman shook her head.

‘You can pay my husband,’ the young woman said with a smile and a nod to the man at her side, who was taking coins and balancing them on a scale before offering change.

‘Well?’ Palemon asked. ‘What am I here to see?’