Free Golden Age (The Shifting Tides Book 1) by James Maxwell Page A

always. Dion fingered the silver medallion with a trident in a circle that he wore on a chain around his neck. The shrine dedicated to his personal deity, Silex, the god of fortune and the sea, was down in the lower city; he doubted he would have time to visit.
    As he wondered how he would find the first consul, his gaze traveled over the several hills dotting the city’s upper level, crowned by palatial residences, the homes of the wealthy. He knew one of the villas was the home of Aristocles, but he didn’t know which.
    The market ended halfway into the agora, and now on his right there were steps leading upwards to the library and the lyceum. He had once visited the library and was awed by the thousands upon thousands of clay tablets, astonished that with nothing more than the simple act of reading he could find out the price of wheat on the day he was born.
    He paused and rubbed his chin as he looked at the lyceum and the bronze statue of the god of justice just outside. Shaking his head, he continued walking. His father the king would be angry enough that he had visited Phalesia, let alone announced himself to the consuls.
    Looking around, scanning the hilltop villas and the merchants’ homes below, he could see occasional signs of the recent tremor. It had evidently struck Phalesia much harder than Xanthos, but already men were repairing the buildings. The sight reminded him of his task. He knew that clearing the narrows would be worth risking his father’s ire.
    Then Dion saw someone he knew. A stocky man in leather armor with a weathered face of crags and wrinkles was walking toward the market. He had an athletic build, square jaw, and dark, somber eyes.
    ‘Captain,’ Dion said warmly.
    Amos frowned for a moment, then smiled as recognition lit up his visage. ‘Dion of Xanthos.’
    ‘It’s good to see you, Captain.’
    ‘I’m not with my men. You can call me Amos. What brings you here?’
    ‘The tremor. A piece of cliff broke off and now blocks the narrows. Our two nations are cut off from trade.’
    Amos’s eyebrows registered surprise. ‘I was not aware. A dark night, that was. How fares Xanthos?’
    ‘It appears the quake struck Phalesia harder.’
    Amos nodded. ‘We lost over a hundred souls.’ His brow furrowed. ‘And what do your magi say? Was it a punishment for deeds done, or an omen of darker days to come?’
    ‘You know Xanthos. The priests of Balal are consulted above all. The signs point to war.’ Dion gave a ghost of a smile. ‘My mother says that Mount Oden erupted and caused the tremor, with the gods having nothing to do with it at all.’
    ‘I won’t criticize the queen, but no Phalesian doubts the gods are telling us something.’ Amos frowned. ‘Some here say it was a punishment for the growing acceptance of eldren, others that it heralds a great threat to our nation.’
    ‘Whatever it was, my father and brother both train the men constantly.’ Dion hesitated. ‘The warship. Who are they?’
    ‘Ileans from across the sea. Their ship was damaged in the tremor. I met their commander, a man named Kargan. He’s paid the city for the use of the harbor and declares his intention to leave as soon as his repairs are finished.’
    Dion sensed there was more. ‘But . . . ?’
    ‘It’s nothing.’ Amos was pensive for a moment. ‘Only that Kargan barely hides his contempt for our ways.’
    ‘I suppose he’s no emissary. To command a warship he must necessarily be a hard man.’
    ‘The oarsmen are all slaves.’ Amos shook his head. ‘Not a back without the scar of the whip.’
    Dion didn’t mention the fact of the warship’s obvious superiority to the ships of Phalesia’s navy. He was a visitor here, and Amos was a military man.
    ‘How is Nikolas?’ Amos asked. ‘I hear your brother has a son?’
    ‘He’s well, a proud father. The boy is now seven. He has yet to be given a man’s name but he’s a strong lad.’
    ‘And your father?’
    ‘The king is well.’ Dion