‘Er . . .’ Finn thought furiously, his pulse racing. He swirled his cloak once again to gain a few moments. ‘Great King, it is the name that will bring your glory to the world. I, Fustalonious of Lyre, have come halfway across the world to chronicle your return . . . The return of the King of Kings, descendant of Aleuthea, ruler of the world.’

Finn gave another bow. He struggled not to look away from the king, at the slumped man chained to the wall a few paces from the throne. Part of him wanted to cry out Dion’s name, but he had to act his part if he wanted to help his friend.

When Palemon didn’t reply, Finn pressed on. The king’s face was emotionless, giving away nothing. Finn knew he had to hide his fear.

‘I will give anything to be able to document your past, present, and future, Great King. Telling your tale will be its own reward. Aleuthea sank beneath the waves and your people were never seen again, but behold, here you are!’

‘We aren’t all here,’ Palemon growled. ‘I brought but one tenth of my people with me. I left many behind. Too many.’

‘And I want to see you aid their return also. I will help you, Great King, in any way I can.’

‘You are familiar with the noble families of the Maltherean?’

‘Of course!’ Finn’s face lit up. ‘I can name every member of the council of five in Koulis. There’s Lord Tavin, Lord Bradlock, Lord Zarmos . . .’

‘Enough,’ Palemon said, cutting the air with his hand. Finn breathed an inward sigh of relief. He’d been naming sailors from the Free Men, and was worried he’d slip up and name Tanny the Sour or Redknuckle.

‘So, chronicler, you will know, then, who this is behind me?’

Palemon watched Finn’s face intently while he peered at Dion, as if trying to match features in his memory. ‘By the gods, is that Dion, king of Xanthos? Son of Markos and brother of Nikolas?’

Palemon tugged on the braids of his beard. ‘It is.’ He pondered for a moment. ‘So it appears you are who you say you are. Chronicler, I intend to claim the entire Realm of the Three Seas for my own. This record you want to transcribe . . . Will it help me achieve this?’

Finn put certainty into his voice, adding a touch of indignation: Fustalonious was a man who took himself very seriously. ‘Undoubtedly. I can hold my head high and tell you with certainty. Of course! I will write my chronicle – with you, Great King, tall and magnificent, with a braided beard and the biggest sword the world has ever seen, as the central figure. All will know of your power and presence. Mothers will tell their children, and men will regale each other with tales of your exploits. Your name will be known across the land.’