Palemon straightened, standing tall. He set his jaw, took a deep breath, and then left the bedchamber, which until a few weeks ago had been occupied by Malakai’s viceroy, Agathon.

Striding along the palace corridors, Palemon ignored the slaves who shrank against the walls and climbed a short series of steps until he came to the palace’s audience chamber. A huge, rectangular room with a high ceiling held up by evenly spaced columns, it was high enough to afford a direct view of the sea as well as most of the city’s districts. The windows were all without curtains, and as Palemon began to pace, he glanced out at the circular Sky Tower, the city’s tallest structure, lit up by the rays of the rising sun.

Palemon’s gaze took in a city both grand and old, with marble facing on some of the oldest walls and broad avenues built at perpendicular angles. Every square had a central fountain or statue and every street was paved, with gutters on both sides. Hanging guardens draped from the balconies of the three-storied houses, built one against the other in long terraces. Sections of the city were in disrepair, and the newest architecture was ugly and functional, basalt and alabaster giving way to reddish structures made of mud brick, but it was clear that Malakai’s long-dead builders possessed far more skill than today’s. Palemon was looking at a city constructed by his ancestors, who had once ruled the world from the island nation of Aleuthea.

His pacing took him past the oversized wooden throne – rarely used; he wasn’t a man who liked to sit still – and to the end of the chamber before he turned on his heel and strode in the opposite direction. He furrowed his brow as he thought, tugging on his beard and occasionally murmuring to himself.

Working with Kyphos, he’d determined that to make the journey to Necropolis they would need a dozen ocean-going vessels, with skilled crews and plenty of supplies. At least finding the way wouldn’t be difficult, for Zara said any of the dozen sorcerers they’d brought with them could find their way back to their brethren left behind. The golden light of their sun staffs would guide them, but unlike when they’d followed the pull of the ark, there would be no chance of the path becoming lost.

From the captives taken during the conquest of Malakai he knew that the king of Ilea had more than enough ships for their purposes. The king of Xanthos also had a sizeable fleet. The vessels he needed would have to come from one or the other.

‘So it must be war,’ Palemon muttered. ‘And despite capturing this city, we are weak.’