Shadows on the Aegean by Suzanne Frank Page B

question.
    “We checked the omens of the wind priestess,” Daedalus said, twisting his Labyrinth key pendant. “She does not fear for him.”
    Phoebus and Niko exchanged dubious glances.
    A bigger group was gathering on the cliff’s edge. Word had spread that Dion was in the air, and groups of women from all over
     the two islands clustered for a chance to see him.
    “Phoebus, my master!”
    The Rising Golden turned at the cry and saw a palace serf running to him. Panting with exertion, the serf handed Phoebus a
     tiny roll of paper. Niko met his glance questioningly. “Nestor. He’s in Egypt,” Phoebus reminded him. Carefully he unrolled
     the note.
    “Egypt barters. We will win. N”
    “How goes it?” Niko asked quietly.
    “Egypt still seeks to negotiate, but Nestor is certain of victory.”
    “Is it necessary to rule Egypt, too?” Niko asked. His question was not meant personally or as a challenge, Phoebus knew. Niko
     was a Scholomancer: he viewed every situation from each known angle, then two more.
    “Egypt rules the Nile. They have honored their agreement to stay off the seas, but we need Egyptian grain. The clans cannot
     continue to support us completely. The soil is losing its strength. We will deplete it if we are not careful.”
    “Caphtor doesn’t provide enough?”
    “Not once she’s fed her own, nay.”
    “So how goes the plan?”
    Phoebus sighed, squinting up to see Dion’s tiny figure, still floating in slow circles. It was rather nauseating to watch.
     Phoebus was glad
he
wasn’t floating up there merely on flax and the word of a priestess. “Nestor has threatened invasion if they don’t send a
     fifty percent tribute on produce, grains, and cattle.”
    “Is not Egypt suffering a famine?”
    Phoebus shrugged. “That is what rumor says, but it is Egypt! They have so much space—”
    “Not much water, Phoebus.”
    “Actually, too much water, from reports I’ve heard. Anyway, those are Nestor’s demands.”
    “What will he settle for?”
    Phoebus looked at his friend. “Bulls.”
    “Aye, your rituals,” Niko said, understanding.
    The wind died suddenly and the craft dropped. The crowd gasped in unison, watching as Dion and his contraption fell below
     the level of the cliff. A moment before he hit the water, a gust of wind buffeted him upward. As the onlookers peeked over
     the edge of the cliff, Daedalus commanded the Scholomancers to prepare a launch to retrieve Dion should he land in Theros
     Sea. The wind pulled Dion back up, and Niko spoke as though nothing had happened.
    “Have we always gotten the Apis bulls from Egypt?”
    “Aye.”
    They watched in silence as Dion floated level with the edge of the cliff, only ten cubits away. “How is it?” Phoebus shouted.
     Dion’s mouth moved, but his words were torn away by the wind. They were close enough to see each other’s face, and Phoebus
     smiled as Dion shouted mutely, careening suddenly away from the safety of the islands, above the open sea.
    “But we have always paid for them before?”
    “What?” Phoebus asked. His clan brother’s figure was getting smaller and smaller.
    “The bulls, we’ve always paid before?”
    “Aye. We’ve paid well: gold, animals, Coil Dancers, stones. We offer tokens this time.” Phoebus ran a shaky hand through his
     blond hair. “Dion seems to be on an unfriendly wind.”
    “You don’t think the wind priestess would be wrong, do you?” Niko focused in the distance where the speck of white floated
     above the blue sea. “If Sibylla really does have direct communication to Kela, let us hope she is interceding now.” Two water
     craft, minuscule compared to the expanse of the sea, sailed swiftly after the runaway Dion. “Have you heard rumors of blessed
     stones?”
    Phoebus watched, his forehead damp, wondering how to get Dion back. Niko’s tendency to change the topic was sometimes bewildering.
     “Blessed how?”
    “Direct communication with a mighty god.”
    He turned