‘A foreign warship,’ Dion said. ‘But like no warship I’ve ever seen. It was eighty feet long, with two banks of oars, one above the other. It had a sharpened bronze ram, as long as a tree is tall.’

King Markos scratched at a small white scar on his cheek, looking pensive.

‘Father, this ship makes the Phalesian ships look primitive, and we rely on their navy to protect us from attacks by sea. Aristocles met with the captain, a man named Kargan, who says he has many more vessels under his command.’

‘Did Aristocles say where this ship was from?’ Nikolas asked.

‘Ilea, from the capital Lamara, where the sun king Solon rules.’

Nikolas spoke again. ‘Did Aristocles reveal anything of the sun king’s intentions? Is he looking to open up trade?’

‘Aristocles is worried. This man, Kargan, gave his rank as admiral. He’s arrogant and contemptuous of Phalesia. He expressed interest in the Ark of Revelation.’

Peithon’s eyes widened. ‘Interest?’

Dion hesitated. ‘By interest, I mean desire.’

‘But it is sacred!’ Peithon exclaimed.

‘That was explained to Kargan. Yet he persisted.’

‘Do you think he’s planning to return?’ Nikolas asked.

Dion felt honored that his brother was asking for his opinion, rather than that of Aristocles. ‘There’s no way to say. They may return for trade, for war, or they may never return at all. The Salesian continent is far away.’

‘Hmm,’ King Markos said. He hadn’t spoken in some time. ‘I’ve heard rumors of this sun king and his growing power. Word is that he has subdued his neighbors. It’s unclear whether he has his eyes on our side of the Maltherean Sea.’

Dion leaned forward. ‘You and Nikolas have been building up the army. We’re strong on land. But if Phalesia falls or becomes a satrap, subservient to the sun king’s power, we’ll be next, and we can’t stand alone. We must develop a navy.’

The king put his hands on his knees and also leaned forward, jutting out his chin. ‘Do you have any idea how much coin we would need to build a navy? With skills we don’t have? How much time it would take?’

‘The army requires a great deal of our resources—’

‘All necessary,’ Markos bit off the words. ‘Our army is our strength. We are a warrior nation. A nation of the sword, the shield, and the spear. We worship Balal, the god of war, not Silex, the god of the sea. Bah!’ He clenched his fists. ‘Perhaps we were better off with the narrows blocked. Perhaps you have done us no service after all.’

‘Father,’ Nikolas urged. ‘That wouldn’t help our alliance with Phalesia. Nor would it help Peithon. We need trade, which means we need the sea.’