She waited for a moment, but when no one moved, she nodded and continued.

‘The sun king pays archers well, but you have to provide your own equipment. If you fail this test you can still apply to fight with spear – you’ll be paid less but your armor and equipment will then be loaned to you. There’s no place in the sun king’s navy for paid oarsmen. War has been good to the king of kings. We have plenty of slaves.’

Roxana ran a hand over her short bleached hair as she paused to take a breath. Dion fixed his gaze on the closest of the round straw targets. At thirty paces, he could make out the individual bands. If he wanted to learn more about the biremes and their construction, and to get the money he would need in the coming days, he had to strike as close as he could to the target’s center.

‘Nock your arrows. I will tap you on the shoulder and then you will draw and release. I’ll be judging how swiftly you release after I tap you – speed and accuracy are both important.’

Dion’s quiver was at his feet. He bent to pick up an arrow and fitted it to the string.

‘We start with the closest target. Failure to strike at thirty paces means you’re out. I take only the best.’

Roxana circled behind the archers and tapped the man to Dion’s left on the shoulder.

The Ilean archer drew the string to his cheek and held it for a breath. A moment later the arrow whistled through the air, plunging into the straw target halfway between the center and the circle’s perimeter.

Roxana grunted. ‘Passable. Faster next time or you’re out.’

Dion sensed Roxana moving, but he kept his attention on the target, allowing his eyes to unfocus as he waited for the instruction to shoot.

He felt a rough clap on his shoulder blade, and in one swift movement he pulled back on the string, sighted along the shaft, and released.

Lowering the composite bow, he whispered a curse as he saw that while he was closer than the man to his left, he was three inches from the center.

The third archer loosed his arrow a moment later and struck the target an inch closer than Dion’s arrow.

Dion frowned. He had to do better.

‘Next target!’ Roxana cried. ‘Fifty paces!’

The extra distance meant Dion struggled to focus on the target’s center. He spoke a prayer to Silex in his mind, the familiar words calming him.

Roxana pounded the archer on Dion’s left on the back almost before she’d finished speaking. The Ilean pulled and held for a long time as he struggled to regain his composure. Finally releasing his arrow, he clipped the edge of the target but missed making a solid strike.

The archer sighed.