Dion and Cob sailed into Xanthos as the last vestiges of sunlight vanished from the day and flaming torches flickered on the beach to guide wayward fishermen home.

Dion was pensive; the two men had spoken little on their homeward leg. He always felt a little frustrated when he compared his home to Phalesia and saw only fishing boats pulled up on the shore and a grassy bank rather than an impressive bastion. Outside the city there were mines and farms, and inside the walls was a training ground and barracks larger than Phalesia’s agora. The Royal Palace at Xanthos was far grander than any of the villas of the consuls and merchants. But any successful craftsman, merchant, or shipwright that Xanthos produced inevitably made the journey to Phalesia and never returned.

However, this time there was more to Dion’s brooding. He was worried about the Ilean warship and what its arrival portended. What were Ilean vessels doing in Galean waters in the first place? The Galean continent was a long way from Salesia . . . It was supposed to take five days or more of hazardous sailing to cross the Maltherean Sea.

If Kargan sailed away and returned with a fleet of biremes, what could Xanthos or Phalesia do about it? Were they in danger? What was the situation in Ilea? Was the sun king eyeing the continent across the sea, or was he too busy with trouble in his own empire?

One thing Dion knew was that the leaders of both nations were dangerously lacking in information.

As the sailboat headed for shore, he imagined what would happen if Phalesia’s navy was defeated by an enemy that then sailed on to Xanthos. The three-storied palace was walled on all sides, but the surrounding city was walled only where it faced the land.

Attempting to banish his growing concern, Dion leaped over the gunwale as the boat approached the shallows, plunging into water up to his calves and wetting the hem of his short tunic. A moment later Cob jumped out and the two men grunted as they pulled the boat above the high-tide mark and demounted the mast.

‘Leave me here,’ Cob said. ‘You have a lot to discuss with your father.’

‘You go,’ Dion said as he bunched up the sail. ‘I’ll set the boat to rights.’

‘You’re a good lad,’ Cob said, clapping Dion on the back.

The short old man stumped away, leaving Dion to work alone. Just as he finished he sensed eyes on him and looked up.