‘Rise,’ Solon said.

Glancing up at him as she returned to her feet, she saw he was more at ease than before. He still gazed at her with strangely hypnotic eyes and he was still so lean that his face was made entirely of sharp angles. But he appeared to be less troubled. She figured it must be the ebb and flow of the pain caused by his illness.

Kargan, by comparison, looked uncomfortable, as if he wished he were anywhere else.

‘Chloe, daughter of Aristocles,’ Solon said in his curt, clipped voice. ‘I have questioned Kargan at length and I believe I have learned all he has to tell. I will now ask you some questions, and I have asked that he remain present.’ He didn’t take his eyes off her. ‘If your answers do not match with his, then we will have a problem. If I believe you are deliberately hiding information, then we will have a problem. If you are too brief, too meandering, too obtuse, or simply too stupid to understand what it is I wish to come to the heart of, then we will have a problem. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, sun king,’ Chloe said.

‘If we have a problem, then blood will flow,’ he said. ‘I ask you again, do you understand?’

‘Yes.’ Chloe nodded, her heart racing and fingernails pressing into her palms. ‘I do.’

With the lords of his court looking on, Solon proceeded to ask Chloe questions about Phalesia. He asked her about the geography, the region’s natural resources, the produce of the workshops, and the system of governance via the consuls of the Assembly.

Chloe answered truthfully and succinctly. Despite the sun king’s threats, she didn’t volunteer more information than he asked of her, which meant she had to think swiftly to send his inquiring mind in directions that would interest him but wouldn’t compromise her city. When he asked her about mining she emphasized Phalesia’s lack of a gold mine rather than highlighting the steady output of the silver mines. As he asked her about the manufacture of weapons she spoke of the proud warrior tradition of Xanthos, remembering Kargan’s interest at her father’s dinner table. He kept her talking, and she kept her posture respectful and her expression earnest, but all the time she avoided answers that made Phalesia appear overly weak or temptingly wealthy.

When he asked her about the city’s layout she spoke at length on her city’s beauty and grandeur, elaborating on the proud temples and expansive agora.

‘Yes, yes,’ he said impatiently. ‘But tell me more of the city’s defenses. A bastion rises up from the shore, does it not?’

‘We have a sloped wall guarding the city,’ Chloe said. ‘Climbing up to the city from the water means ascending one of two narrow stairways.’

‘And the army . . . ? How many soldiers does your father command?’