Kushiel's Chosen - Jacqueline Carey [232]
SIXTY-TWO
Phaistos was a worldly city indeed, bustling with activity and markedly different from the calm of the Temenos. It is not so large as other harbor cities I had seen, Marsilikos and La Serenissima, but it lies along the trade routes and one sees folk of many nations mingled among the Kritians. There was an Ephesian ship at harbor that day, and a handful of Umaiyyati in the markets, as well as Hellenes from the mainland and a number of Caerdicci from one of the southern city-states. I kept my eyes and ears sharp for D'Angeline faces or voices, but none were forthcoming.
Most of the streets are narrow and meant only for foottraffic, although there are a few broad avenues to the marketplace, the harbor and the Palace. We plodded slowly along one such, making for the hill of the Palace; here and there, Kritians touched their brows. The oxen nodded their heads as they trudged in harness, dipped their gilt-tipped horns as if in acknowledgment.
I am city-born and bred, and it was good to be once more in a familiar atmosphere. I noted the strata of society all mingled in one place, commoners rubbing elbows with lords and ladies. A rich array of odors pervaded the air; the salt tang of the sea, perfumed oils, lamb kebobs sizzling on charcoal braziers, fresh-caught fish, sharp spices and human sweat, and occasionally a waft of distant incense.
Spiridon and Gavril stared in bewilderment, and it came to me that they had never seen a proper city before.
"There would have been Illyrian traders here too," Kazan said in a low voice. "Twenty years ago, eh. Now the Serenissimans have taken all our trade-rights, and there is a heavy fee for those who would trade directly with any but they. And yet I am called a pirate, I! They would take Kriti if they dared, yes, and all of Hellas, but Kriti has never fallen."
It is true, although Tiberium tried during the golden years of her empire. When all of mainland Hellas fell under Tiberian rule, Kriti retained its sovereign status. Although the isle no longer rules the Hellene seas, when her shores were breached, the Kritians retreated to the mountains and fought with ferocity and cunning, luring Tiberian troops to their doom. So the island was never conquered, and when the Tiberian empire crumbled, the Kritians reclaimed their shores.
We came at length to the gates of the Palace, and here the Archon's guards mounted a shrewder watch, Our driver conversed with the leader of the squadron, and I presented Pasiphae's letter. He examined the seal, sun glancing off the steel of his bowed helmet, then gave a courteous nod.
"You are welcome, by order of the Kore of the Temenos.
Please dismount from the oxcart, and I will send word to the Archon."
Obeying, we waited, ushered within the gate. Our driver touched his own brow in farewell and set about turning the oxcart, making his slow way back through the city. I occupied my time in studying the Palace of Phaistos, which was far grander than that of the Temenos. It climbed the low hill in terraced layers, red-columned porticoes looking out at the city sloping down to the sea. Presently, a Palace attendant came to greet us, a distinguished Kritian of middle years, with a chain of office about his neck and a white tunic worked with embroidery at the edges. He bowed, addressing us in Hellene.
"Phèdre nó Delaunay of Terre d'Ange, Kazan Atrabiades of Epidauro, I will conduct you and your men into the presence of the Archon."
I translated briefly to Kazan and the Illyrians, and we followed the attendant across the courtyard and mounted the wide staircase, passing beneath a great alabaster archway to enter.
It is a lively place, the Palace of Phaistos. We passed fine Kritian lords and ladies, travelling on foot and in servant-borne palanquins, bound to and from the city's market; they chattered amongst themselves, laughing and gesturing. They dress for the heat in Phaistos, and I saw Spiridon and Gavril stretch their eyes to see noblewomen in linen so fine it showed the contours of the bodies beneath,