He continued up the road and climbed a series of steps, deciding to try to get closer to the palace. Turning into an alleyway, he wrinkled his nose at a smoky stench and saw two youths huddled in a doorway, furtively passing a pipe between them. They were both stick thin; in another place Dion would have assumed they were deathly ill. One sighed with apparent exhaustion, slumping as he let out a stream of thick smoke while another leaned back and stared at the sky as if seeing deep meaning above.

The youth with the pipe looked up, saw Dion, and scowled, revealing a face with a feverish cast. Deciding to try a different path, Dion went back the way he came. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that the youth had returned his attention to the pipe.

Dion climbed until he emerged onto another avenue, home to a small fruit market. His stomach rumbled at the sight of all the bright fruits and vegetables. The magi from Athos had gifted him with food, but he hadn’t had a proper meal since leaving Xanthos.

He realized he was standing in the wrong place when the people shopping at the market scurried out of the way and a marching column of soldiers in yellow cloaks pushed through. Narrowly avoiding them, he inspected them carefully as they passed. They wore leather skirts over cloth trousers and leather breastplates above tunics. Each carried a triangular shield and a spear, with a curved sword at his waist, longer than the swords worn by the hoplites of Xanthos. These were professional soldiers, he saw. His brother’s warriors were better armed, but the sun king’s men marched in tight formation and their hands were scarred from regular practice.

Dion’s bow was in his satchel but he had seen several Ileans with swords at their sides. He decided he would be safe to carry his bow openly, if he needed to.

Resuming his climb as he searched for the palace, he left the square and followed a steep road leading to a wealthy residential district. Heading up to the ziggurat’s highest tier, he finally came to a tall red wall the height of three men. A wide road followed the wall, curving with it, and he knew he was skirting the exterior of the palace.

He traveled along the wall, looking for the entrance, noting the sharp wooden spikes at regular intervals along the top. He walked for a time but still couldn’t see any gates. Rounding a corner, he stopped and stared as the ground ahead dropped away, revealing the lower city all the way to the wide brown river.