‘We’ll build our own ships and go to their cities. Much of what they consider Phalesian produce actually comes from us. When they see what we have to offer they will come. Surely Father knows that an army costs silver, and the more silver we have, the better an army we can maintain?’

‘If I were Phalesian and you were a consul, you would have my vote,’ Cob said. He moved the tiller to adjust the boat’s course, shading his eyes with his hand. ‘Right at the Spire of Kor,’ he muttered.

‘There it is!’ Dion pointed.

It was a hundred feet ahead, a tall plume of solid rock, twisted like a potter’s mistake.

‘Bleed a bit of speed, would you?’ Cob asked.

‘If we slow too much we will lose steerage.’

‘Lad.’ Cob spoke in a tone that Dion had rarely heard him use. Looking to the rear of the boat, he saw the old sailor regarding him with gravity. ‘I let you have control before because this is your father’s boat and you know what you’re doing. But if we’re sailing the Shards, despite the fact that every fool knows it should be done with oars, I will be the one in charge.’

Dion met the man’s eyes and held them, then nodded. ‘Understood.’ He opened up the sail to allow the wind to brush past rather than pocket it.

‘Too much, a bit more on.’

Following the order, he pulled in the sail a touch.

‘Good. Well done, lad.’ Cob scratched at the stubble on his chin. ‘Have a look down.’

They were now approaching the Spire of Kor, and Dion had been fixated on the sight of the strange formation looming larger with every passing moment, but when he stared down into the water he gasped.

Rather than looking at a sandy ocean floor, such as existed in the harbor of Xanthos, or one filled with a carpet of smooth white stones, as in Phalesia’s bay, under the water here there was nothing but a field of jagged black rocks.

Dion was a capable swimmer and diver and knew that the water magnified what was below, but even so he had to suppress a shudder. Experience told him the rocks were at least a dozen feet under the small boat’s keel, but they still appeared far too close for comfort. Some were the size of his hand, others as big as the boulder that had sheared off the cliff back at the narrows. There were different types, with rocks that were smooth and worn by the passage of time, akin to the approaching spire, but most were sharp and jagged.