‘The famed city of Malakai!’ Finn said, gazing at the walls and the soaring circular tower behind them, so high it appeared to brush the sky. ‘Once Aleuthea’s gateway to the heartland of the south. Picture it . . . Ships coming and going between Aleuthea and Malakai . . . picking up precious metals, ivory, and lion skins. There would have been a proper harbor then, with docks, shipyards, and dozens of piers, rather than just the one.’

For a moment Dion scanned the shoreline and imagined the scene, but then shook himself when he remembered his purpose.

‘Cob,’ he said. ‘Remind the men below to come out fighting if they hear the bell—’

‘Wait,’ Finn interrupted. ‘Who’s giving the orders here? You’re the captain’s mate.’

Dion scowled at Finn, while Cob shook his head.

‘We need to get into our roles,’ Finn explained. ‘The best actors at the theatre practice constantly. Then, when they’re on stage, they know exactly what they’re doing.’

Cob chuckled. ‘He has a point.’

With a sigh, Dion turned to face the crew and called out, ‘Men! From now on we are merchants. Cob is your captain, and I am his mate. Finn here represents the ship’s owners.’

There was no discernible change in the crew, but they were all prepared and could answer any questions posed without giving themselves away. As the drum tempo slowed and the Liberty’s oarsmen backed to slow their momentum, Cob issued orders and slowly brought the ship alongside the pier.

Finn’s eyes studied the clamoring merchants on the platform, evidently taking note of the pecking order among them, identifying those with the richest clothing and gaudiest jewelry. Meanwhile Dion felt tension in his shoulders. When the first bireme had arrived at Phalesia, neither the Phalesian consuls nor Dion’s father had known much at all about the Ileans.

Now there was a new potential danger, and he didn’t intend to repeat the same mistake.

The Maltherean Sea was at peace. If there was going to be any threat, any change in the balance of power, he wanted to know what it was.

With the ship fastened to the pier and Finn already on the platform, thriving under the attention of so many buyers, Dion also played his role, helping the sailors carry up barrels from below decks. He continued unloading, making no change in his behavior as he watched two soldiers approach the Liberty, pushing through the merchants to stand at the edge of the platform and call up to the deck.

‘Your captain. Where is he?’

Cob stumped forward, crossing the deck where he’d been coordinating the activity. Meanwhile Dion set down his barrel near the mast and pretended to fuss over one of the ropes, hanging back, partially hidden, where he could appraise the soldiers more carefully.