When Mark stepped into the corridor, he was ready for anything.

What he found was Delia. Alone.

Trying not to show his anxiety he looked around. Strangely, there were no guards anywhere in sight.

The anax’s daughter bowed her head. “Master Mar’Doug. Delios took the guards with him. On the anax’s orders.”

Mark frowned.

“He will delay mistress Bel’Sara as long as he can,” she said, pausing for a second. “He can only use his wits to do so. I hope you understand.”

Mark nodded slowly. “…it takes a magus to stop a magus.”

“Yes,” Delia said. “If you allow – you should hurry. My former teacher is a sharp person.”

Great, Mark thought, now we just have to find another magus. Distracted by his thoughts he glanced back to the door behind him.

“I will ensure that nobody enters until you return,” Delia said.

Mark studied the young woman. Unassuming and keeping to the background he’d never taken the time to look at her closely before. The one thing that had changed was the eyes. Delia was meeting his gaze, without looking down. What he saw was resolve. Trust me, her expression seemed to say.

“You…knew what was going to happen?” Mark asked carefully.

Continuing to meet his eye, Delia shook her head. “I guessed. I watched you with Atissa and I am seldom wrong about people.” She leaned her head slightly to the sight. “Master, you are a father, right?”

Mark felt his face harden. “…an older brother.”

Delia nodded, dropping her gaze. “I am sorry for your loss.”

Mark turned away. “You see a lot.”

After a couple of steps, he stopped and turned back. “Damn it.”

Surprised by his sudden movement Delia retreated half a step.

“Hold this, please,” Mark said, handing her his staff.

The young woman looked shocked, her hand almost flinching away from the wood.

Mark ignored her reaction. He quickly opened the buttons of his suit jacket and took it off. Folding it carefully he handed it to Delia before taking back the staff.

Seeing her looking up at him in confusion he pointed at the jacket. “Don’t give it to the servants. Don’t let anybody attempt to clean it without me being there, okay?”

“…yes.”

Mark nodded. Was there something like reverence in the way she was holding the jacket? The people of this world were still strange to him.

He finally turned away and fell into a jog. Did the dignity of his false identity allow for running? No choice, he thought. The ship could leave the harbor at any moment.

While he jogged down the corridors of the palace, his mind started to analyze the foolishness of his current actions. He’d killed the ruler of this place. Murdered him. And now he was going to challenge the single most dangerous person in the entire city.

Mark hadn’t seen mistress Bel’Sara throwing lightning around, but he had no problem believing it. Seeing the Assanaten magus wielding fire on multiple occasions had widened his horizon. You’re about to challenge a tank, he thought. And with what? Some grappling and a stick?

Turning around another corner, he reached the entrance hall that doubled as the main temple. When he passed by the big altar, several priests and palace servants stared after him with wide eyes.

Crossing the square in front, he ran past a young man he knew. “Hey Niceos, do you know the quickest way to the harbor?”

Mark had been there before, but he couldn’t be sure that the route he was familiar with was the fastest.

The young man stared up at Mark, frozen in place, his mouth open.

“Quickly!” Mark snapped.

“Ah, yes! Master! You must…”

“Lead the way!” He grabbed Niceos by the shoulder and turned him around, giving him a push.

They ran.

Every couple of steps Niceos glanced over his shoulder anxiously. He was a servant running errands for Elaiadoros. Mark had never spoken to him directly, but he’d made a point of remembering the names of the people around him. Humans usually react positively when addressed by their names. Especially if it was by a superior who couldn’t necessarily be expected to recall it.

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They reached the lower palace and made for the gate. As they crossed under it, Mark contemplated if he should call for the warriors there to follow him but decided against it. Not knowing how much authority Memnostis had given to Bel’Sara, he might just bring her reinforcements.

If violence couldn’t be avoided to take Atissa back, the best approach would be to surprise the sage. He’d been able to do it with the burning Assanaten magus. Everybody watching had believed that they’d seen Mark’s magic at work. Of course, Mark knew better.

Still, the fact that he’d been able to do it, had been a clue. One of several. Why had the magus at the hut retreated? Had it just been the staff? And then there had been the time they’d met mistress Bel’Sara for the first time.

He didn’t have enough information by far to draw definitive conclusions but maybe challenging a magus wasn’t as suicidal as it seemed.

Let’s not run straight into a stream of fire just yet, Mark thought.

Leaving the palace hill behind the houses around them became progressively poorer. Instead of limestone, their walls were made of clay.

The citizens of Riadnos went about their daily chores all around them and Mark could see signs of war preparations at every corner. He hadn’t been in the city for long, but he’d noticed that the amount of people had increased steadily.

Groups of armed men were led by the anax’s warriors to or from exercises. There was a steady coming and going around the workshops of craftsmen. He saw a lot of children, but none were playing. The older were carrying loads or running errands while the young worked with the women.

In the back of his mind, Mark contemplated how much the GDP could be raised if children were allowed to join the workforce earlier. The number of years he’d spent in school compared to the limited number of useful skills he’d been taught there had always seemed ridiculous to him. But then again, he’d worked from the time Anne and he had been alone.

Niceos led them off the main road and down a couple of stairs. The harbor lay at a lower elevation than the city’s center and the main road snaked down in a serpentine fashion. Cutting straight through this neighborhood would save them time.

Also, the direction was obvious, Mark recognized that he’d made the right decision. The young servant led him reliably through the jumble alleyways between the houses hugging the slope.

When they came closer to the foot of the hill, Mark could feel the breeze coming from the lake. He subconsciously took in a breath of relief.

This primitive city was fairly clean. That had come as a surprise to Mark, who had dreaded something like the muddy medieval towns portrayed in movies. But still, it was a large number of people living packed together in a pre-deodorant society.

They hurried down a narrow alley, interrupted by flights of stairs every so often. Niceos called ahead for people to make way. Having to jump to the side the citizens’ angry comments followed them. Of course, they ceased at once when they recognized Mark.

After a last short flight of stairs, they left the maze behind and stumbled onto the main street again. The harbor was just ahead.

“Where now, master?” Niceos asked carefully.

The harbor had been built in a natural bay. The opening to the lake wasn’t small, but it still could be blocked by chaining a couple of gallies together. At least in theory. According to Delios, no enemy fleet had ever entered the lake.

Unsure, Mark stared ahead. From here he could see the masts above the rooftops.

Due to the council, a lot of ships lay in the harbor. Many had to anker out in the bay because there just wasn’t enough space at the quay. Without a clue, it would take forever to find the right ship.

Mark thought feverishly. He guessed that Memnostis wouldn’t give up a gally plus crew with the war about to start. “We are looking for a ship that is ready to cast off. Not a warship.”

Before Niceos could respond they heard a loud commotion up ahead.

“That’s coming from the market,” Niceos said nervously. It seemed to dawn on him that he was following Mark toward potential danger. The memory of the nightly Assanaten assault was still fresh on everybody’s mind.

“Let’s go,” Mark said. “Carefully.”

Now Mark led the way, Niceos following a couple of steps behind, looking ready to bold at any moment. Before they could reach the next intersection, the screaming became louder. People, mostly women, started to stream around the corner. They had to jump aside, to avoid being trampled by the panicked mob.

Mark grabbed a passing girl’s arm and pulled her over. “What happened?”

The girl tried to free her arm, seemingly not hearing his question.

Niceos stepped up and slapped her over the face. “Answer the master!”

Holding her cheek, she stared up at Mark in confusion.

“What’s going on over there?” Mark asked. Depending on her answer he might have to rethink his rescue attempt.

“Snakes!” she said hurriedly when Niceos raised his hand once more. “They’re everywhere. It's magic!”

Mark looked down at her in incomprehension. As he relaxed his grip the girl took the opportunity and bolted.

“Damn you!” Niceos shouted, ready to run after her.

“Let her go,” Mark said.

The poor thing hadn’t seemed like she could provide him with a detailed understanding of what was going on up ahead. He would have to go and see for himself.

He’d visited this part of the city before to meet Linos. The shipbuilder’s workshop was located at the very end of the harbor. Mark had asked Delios to guide him through the market to familiarize himself with the city’s economy. Seeing how the locals handled raw meat and fish had killed his appetite for the rest of the day. It had been a reminder that in this world he was always just one sickness away from death.

As they turned around a corner, the entirety of the chaos became more apparent. People were running in all directions. Stalls were turned over. Crates and their content lay sprawled all over the place.

Children dressed in ragged cloth grabbed whatever they could hold before following the rest of the mob.

A man was helping a woman back to her feet. She’d fallen into a broken jar and was bleeding from her hands.

A young girl was hitting something on the ground with a stick. A group of people ran by momentarily obscuring Mark’s view. When they’d passed the girl was scooting backward on her butt, her face white with fear. A snake of at least seven feet was crawling over her legs.

The girl screamed and the snake struck.

A millisecond before the reptile could sink its teeth into the girl’s throat, its head flew off.

Only sparring the shaking girl a single glance, Delios stepped passed her, surveying the situation. He looked nothing like had less than an hour ago before the council. His hair was disheveled and his sword and tunic were splattered with grime and blood. When his wandering eyes met Mark’s, his expression changed from grim concern to relief.

Oh great, Mark groaned mentally. Expectations.