Shadows on the Aegean by Suzanne Frank Page A

Ileana.
    How he would love to sink a knife in her belly.
    “So have we heard about the sea skirmish’s outcome?” Phoebus asked. Niko slid Eumelos off his shoulders, and the boy raced
     away.
    “Everyone is watching from Myknossos,” he said.
    “What are the odds this time?”
    “Aztlan will be victorious, as always.”
    Phoebus didn’t ask how Niko knew. Despite his seeming removal from the commonplace world, Niko knew everything; he was a fountain
     of information. “I asked about the odds.”
    “As good as the chances of your becoming
Hreesos,”
his friend said with a rare smile.
    They walked through the press of people. Women in bright skirts, dark hair curling and kohled eyes flashing, stood in clusters
     like bunches of flowers. Men in short kilts or long belled skirts mingled with Mariners carrying shields and quivers.
Hreesos
’private guards with their cropped hair guarded the far doorway. A school of scribes sat in one corner. Damp clay plates
     lay before them, over which their fingers moved rapidly, embossing tiles tied to their fingertips and knuckles, pressing into
     the clay the language of Aztlan in pictographs of men, shells, weapons, and symbols.
    Once outside, Niko looked at him. “Where are we going?”
    Phoebus smiled, squinting at the sunlight shining off the Pyramid of Days. “Dion invited us to view his newest experiment.”
    Niko frowned. “I am supposed to be in the library doing research for Spiralmaster, Phoebus.”
    “I know, but this will take only an afternoon. You can spend all night in the library if you need.” They walked toward the
     land bridge that attached Aztlan Island to the crescent-shaped Kallistae Island. Mount Apollo rose before them, harsh and
     forbidding in the winter light, its slopes bare and brown. Two other bridges, designed by the finest
mnasons
in the priesthood, attached Aztlan to the northern and southern tips of the crescent-shaped island of Kallistae.
    “What are you researching for Spiralmaster?” Phoebus asked as they walked to the north bridge.
    “You remember his elixir?”
    “Aye, his eternal project.” Phoebus smiled at the Scholomance pun for Spiralmaster’s obsession.
    “His eternity project,” Niko corrected. “Aye, well, he is convinced there is a secret ingredient.”
    “That he will find in the library? What is it, dust?”
    Niko’s gaze was solemn. “Nay. Something our forefathers knew and we forgot. I’m looking for it.”
    “That means you are reading every scroll, every tablet?”
    “Aye. Every one.”
    Phoebus slapped him on the back. “You are too dedicated, my friend.” He stopped. The bridge, carefully wrought from woven
     metal, cording, and enormous
ari-kat
stone pylons, stood before them. Narrowing his eyes, Phoebus turned to the left, the edge of the cliff approximately eight
     hundred cubits above Theros Sea.
    What mischief was Dion up to this time? Then they saw it, a square of white floating in the air between the tip of Kallistae
     and Aztlan. “By the stones of Apis,” Niko breathed. The men ran, joining a few Scholomancers and one of the head instructors,
     Daedalus.
    Suspended between heaven and earth in a cradle amidst wings of flax and bone, Dion floated. Niko and Phoebus watched as gusts
     of wind coming through the channel carried him higher and higher. “How will he get down?” Niko asked. Pretending not to hear
     or ignoring him, Daedalus laughed as the inheritor to the Clan of the Vine rose upward in his air sail.
    “What do we tell Sibylla if he gets hurt?” Niko whispered.
    Phoebus blanched. Though Sibylla was exquisite and blessed by Kela, her temper rivaled that of Ileana. Sibylla had rescued
     Dion from a cave of wolves, where
Hreesos
had hidden him after Ileana had killed his mother. The two were the same age and almost inseparable, though not linked by
eros
. Sibylla would make them all eat wood if Dion were hurt.
    “Pray the winds are gentle,” Niko said in response to his own