Following Memnostis and Delios out on the terrace, Mark took a deep breath. The presentation and subsequent debate had taken hours. He closed his eyes for a second, enjoying the afternoon sun on his skin. A slide breeze blew from the direction of the lake.

He’d never been to a meeting like this. Surrounded by battle-scarred warriors of all ages, glaring at each other. With every hour deodorant had wandered further up his list of things this world lacked.

I really need a cigarette, he thought.

“I guess this was a success,” Delios said.

“The decision has not been made yet,” Memnostis said, filling a wine cup from a pitcher that had waited for them on the table. “The council still has to vote.”

Mark and Delios exchanged a quick glance. The anax’s tone had been neutral. They still didn’t know where he stood.

Delios had explained that the basileis on this side of the sea wall would follow his father, whatever he decided. The leaders of the coastal towns and villages would be more reluctant but were unlikely to resist Memnostis. His reputation cowed most opposition.

“Your basileis seemed to like the plan,” Mark said carefully, accepting a cup from the anax.

“Acanthos and his people loved it,” Delios said.

Memnostis looked down in his cup while speaking. “The warriors from the homeland are mostly young and greedy for glory and fame. They are easy to excite.”

What do you want? Mark asked himself. He had to deal with enough managers over the years to know that his customer was taking his time to go somewhere. He was competent enough to play this game, but he didn’t like it. In his heart he was an engineer, preferring to think in terms of problems, solutions, and efficiencies.

Mark sipped on his wine. If Memnostis wanted to be convinced personally, he had to show a bit more of his hand. The customer set the pace. That was how it worked. As a consultant, you had to swallow your feelings and smile. And get even when it was time for billing.

The anax turned around. “Delia, what do you think? How will the vote go?”

Mark hadn’t noticed Delios’ sister following them. She stood slightly behind her brother, holding herself back in a way you would think her a servant if you didn’t know better.

For a moment Mark saw surprise on Delia’s face but she quickly hid it by bowing her head.

“Yes father,” she said.

Her brother didn’t react as quickly, staring wide-eyed from Memnostis to Mark.

Am I let in on something here? Mark thought.

Going quickly through his memories, Delia seemed to always have been around. Yet, she’d never been directly involved in any important conversation. It seemed that she played a much more important role behind the curtain than he had realized. But then again, he hadn’t mapped out all the formal and informal relationships within the palace yet.

I miss my laptop. He sighted mentally. It had stayed behind when he’d crawled out of his rental car.

“Master Mar’Doug and Delios were very convincing,” Delia said. “The vast majority is convinced that the plan can work. Especially the lake basileis and the leaders from the homeland believe this plan to be the best option.”

Delios crossed his arms. “When the Assanaten come down from the mountains, the villages around the lake will be the first to be destroyed.”

“The coastal basileis will follow the anax’s direction,” Delia said, nodding towards her brother. “The older leaders are not enthusiastic about sending their men into the mountains, but they will comply. Some of the younger ones are almost as eager as the warriors from Helcenaea.”

The anax continued to stare into his wine, slowly circling the fluid.

What will you decide? Mark asked himself. The terrace was filled with a nervous atmosphere with the anax at the center. Glancing to the side, he saw the siblings were aware of it too. Delios' eyes moved back and forth between his father and his sister, clearly unsure of the situation.

Delia was watching the anax. On the surface, she seemed her normal reserved self. But looking closer, Mark noticed a tightness in her posture. She was nervous. Maybe even afraid. If she was talented in judging people, she might have guessed what was going to happen next.

A thought snapped his brain out of consulting mode. Am I in danger? How many guards had he passed on their way here? Were there armed men inside, waiting for Memnostis’ signal?

Calculating his options, Mark came to a clear conclusion. If it goes that way, I am fucked!

“Master Mar’Doug”, Memnostis said, “I want you to stay in Riadnos. For the war and beyond. I have heard about all the ideas you have shared with my people. You have inspired many, including my son.” He waved towards Delios. “You will have a position directly under the anax and share in the city’s prosperity.”

Mark kept the surprise off his face. He’d hoped to work his way to such a position over time. It being offered even before his plans for the defense had shown success, was unexpected. Until now, the anax hadn’t shown that much interest in the Office’s activities.

The position offered to him would allow him to live a somewhat adequate lifestyle until he found a way back home. It would also greatly help him with his research into finding a way to accomplish that. So far, he’d had no clues. His best option had been to speak to mistress Bel’Sara but due to the circumstances regarding Atissa, he hadn’t dared to.

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And then it clicked. Mark could feel his face harden.

The human mind was a fascinating thing. Sometimes it just needed a small realization, a little nudge, and everything fell into place.

“Mistress Bel’Sara did not join the council meeting,” he said, trying for a neutral tone.

Memnostis' face lost his cordial expression. He placed the cup on the table and straightened his shoulders. “Yes.”

“If I wanted to go and see Atissa”, Mark said slowly, “would I find her in our quarters.”

The anax answered him with a silent stare.

For a couple of seconds, their eyes met in silence.

Memnostis looked away first, shifting his gaze to his children. “Leave us. The master and I need to discuss the future.”

Mark quickly examined the siblings’ expressions as they received their father’s order. Neither of them was extremely surprised. Had Delios known? The younger man looked nervous.

Delia bowed her head to him and her father. “We will retreat then. Goodbye, father.”

Memnostis had already turned his back on them, refilling his cup from the pitcher. He drank deeply and sighed. “I do not want a conflict with you,” he said when his children had left. “As you can see, I have no warriors here.” His gesture encompassed the terrace. “My offer is genuine.”

Outwardly, Mark stayed calm. In fact, he was surprised about the turmoil he felt within. He’d seen situations like this before. Managers switched directions because of changes in the political landscape they faced all the time. As long as the bills were paid, Mark didn’t care. Mostly. He preferred not to have to care.

Be careful, he told himself. You aren’t really the lightning-swinging magus Memnostis thinks you are.

“Please, continue,” Mark said as calmly and cordially as he could.

The anax’s face relaxed a bit. He held up the pitcher, in question.

Mark shook his head. “I am still good.”

“Of course,” Memnostis said, filling up his own cup. “I have to say, I was deeply impressed by the things you showed us. Delios told me a bit about it but I will admit that I did not take the idea of building a defense in the mountains seriously until today.”

“Then why did you let us work on it?” Mark asked carefully.

He fought the urge to push the conversation to Bel’Sara and Atissa. If he wasn’t careful, he would die on this terrace. Memnostis was a man of violence, so much he had learned from Riadnos’ history. How much that meant in this world he couldn’t tell but that didn’t matter right now.

In addition, the anax wasn’t well. Mark had learned to read the signs of somebody who had lost control over his drinking when he was very young. The dark memories were just another reminder to tread carefully.

“As I said”, Memnostis gestured with his cup, “I want you here. Your wisdom will bring Riadnos greatness. I will make all our resources available to you. Men, gold, ships.”

Mark just nodded. “May I ask what kind of deal you made with mistress Bel’Sara?”

Memnostis' hand froze halfway to his mouth. He studied Mark for a second. “There is no bargain. Your fellow sage came to me and explained that the girl is a prophesized hero. A champion of the gods. She said that…things are not as they should be. The girl needs to be brought south to Saggab. The gods need it to happen!”

“The gods?” Mark asked, keeping his tone neutral. He tried not to give anything away under the anax’s searching gaze. No doubt, the balcony would be filled with warriors the moment Memnostis believed he couldn’t come to an agreement with him.

“The priests have been reading the entrails every day,” Memnostis said, gesturing with his cup. “I have sacrificed an entire herd at this point. But the gods are not talking to us. The future lays in darkness.” He stared across the bay toward the mountains. “We have received no guidance. Nothing. Delios and you want me to send my warriors into the mountains without the blessing of the gods. Without Ajaxos to lead them!” He shook his head. “Mistress Bel’Sara explained that sending the girl where she belongs will restore the order of things. The gods will guide us. We will see if they approve of your plan.” His eyes returned to Mark.

“Sounds reasonable,” Mark said. “I will take some more wine now.”

There was something in the anax’s eyes that made him weary. It went beyond a certain haziness that could be attributed to the wine. Fear? Desperation? Reading people wasn’t Mark’s forte. But he could tell that the man in front of him was off.

Desperate people make desperate moves, he thought. In business that often meant high-risk investments, tax evasion, and fraud. And in a primitive, smelly bronze age world where gods seemed to be real? Holding out his cup for Memnostis to fill, he decided not to think about it.

It wasn’t a bad offer. With the anax’s support, they would be able to start immediately after the council vote. Delios and he had created a core group of people they would send out to organize the different components of the plan. It would alleviate Mark from having to go everywhere in person.

A thunder-like sound roared in the distance, startling both men.

“Ah, damn,” Memnostis said, quickly straitening the pitcher.

Mark grimaced as the spilled wine soaked into the sleeve of his jacket. It had to be red wine, he thought.

“What was that?” he asked, switching the cup to his other hand.

Memnostis turned and pointed with the hand holding his own cup towards the mountains behind Riadnos. “It is Rehala. She is making her anger known to us.”

“Is the volcano erupting?” Mark asked alarmed.

Memnostis shook his head. “She sends the molten stone down the other side toward the sea. The goddess's infrequent rage keeps us safe on that side of the mountains.” Memnostis walked up to the parapet. “The ship has not left yet. Rehala must be angry about the delay.”

Mark joined the anax, feeling the wetness of his sleeve on his skin. “Mistress Bel’Sara’s ship?”

Memnostis nodded. “It is the fastest way to travel. And the safest now that the Assanaten hold Piro.” He glanced over to Mark, gauging his reaction.

Does he expect my approval for trying to ensure Atissa’s safety after kidnapping her? Mark asked himself.

“That should keep them safe unless the Assanaten take to the sea,” he said, improvising.

“I doubt they will,” Memnostis said. “But I have ordered the ship’s proprietor to sail as wide as possible around Piro. And mistress Bel’Sara is with her. I assure you the girl is safe.”

Mark hid his feelings behind the cup. He knew Atissa didn’t want to go. Not with her uncle and everybody else she knew in danger. There is nothing I can do about it, he thought, swallowing the sour fluid. He had to focus on his own survival first.

“I am sorry you could not say goodbye,” Memnostis said, maybe to fill the silence. “Mistress Bel’Sara insisted on it. I would have liked to get to know the girl a bit better as well.”

There was something in Memnostis’ eyes that bothered Mark. A lot. He was actually surprised by how much it bothered him. As the anax flew through the air, Mark decided that he would have to reevaluate some things.

The mass of Memnostis’ body times gravity and whatever extra acceleration Mark could generate with his limited Judo technique resulted in a wet cracking sound as the anax’s head made contact with the terrace’s stone floor.

Oh, Mark thought.

Automatisms formed over endless hours of training kicked in and he fell on the anax’s upper body, pinning him to the ground. Sliding a stranglehold in place, he pulled the man’s body tight to his.

Memnostis made some incomprehensible sound. One of his arms flapped against Mark.

Reacting to the movement, Mark slowly pulled his hold tighter. The way of applying a good strangle was making adjustments without relieving pressure. And patience.

Mark knew from experience that most people went unconscious after six to twelve seconds of interrupted blood supply to the brain. Some needed longer. Settling in, he started to count. Counting all the way to five hundred gave him time to think through the situation his emotional outburst had just put him in.