The Pillars of Hercules by David Constantine Page B

snapped Barsine. “His traitor brother sits on a false throne.”
    “Sure,” said Lugorix. “But even if Athens stops Alexander, how does that free Persia?”
    “Alexander is going to throw the bulk of his and his father’s power against Athens,” said Barsine. “Break that power, and you break Macedonia. And as soon as Macedonia loses its ability to control my homeland, tens of thousands of Bactrian cavalry will sweep into Persepolis and Babylon.”
    “And put you on the throne?” asked Lugorix.
    She smiled, but her eyes held Lugorix in a way that made him feel like a mouse gazing at a bird of prey.
    “Females cannot rule in Persia,” she said.
    “And magi can’t be female either,” said Lugorix.
    That made her laugh. “Look at me,” she said. “I’m just nineteen.” Laughing now, she looked younger than that, but Lugorix wasn’t fooled: this was a girl who’d had to grow up fast. “I can’t rule Persia and I can’t lead my people. But I can do my best to save them.”
    “And where do we fit in and how much are we getting paid for it?” asked Matthias.
    She stared at him in disgust. “Money is all mercenaries ever think of, no?”
    “It’s easy for rich girls to say money doesn’t matter,” replied Matthias.
    “You’ll get paid,” said Demosthenes. “In silver.”
    Matthias’s face was the picture of indignation. “We were told in gold!”
    “But you weren’t told how much.”
    “Oh?”
    “We’ll give you and your friend two talents apiece.”
    Lugorix and Matthias looked at him open-mouthed. A silver talent was a decade’s wages. Demosthenes was offering them enough to retire on. Which led to the natural question—
    “In exchange for what?” asked Lugorix.
    “Accompanying me and Damitra to Syracuse.”
    That took Matthias aback a little. “That’s all? We escort you to Sicily, and get two talents each?”
    “It’ll be dangerous,” said Demosthenes.
    “Any sea voyage is,” said Lugorix, thinking of the journey from Syracuse to Egypt he’d made less than a year before. The Athenian recruiters who’d hired him at Massilia in the south of Gaul had herded him and the other newly hired tribal mercenaries into the holds of great grain transports that had reached the coast of Sicily after four days of choppy sailing down the boot of Italy. Half a day after that, they pulled into Syracuse’s aptly named Grand Harbor. At that point in his life, Lugorix had never seen a city so big—even now it remained the third largest he’d laid eyes on, after Alcibidia and (of course) Athens. From there, the haul to Egypt was about another week. He guessed it would be a little less time trying to reach Syracuse from Athens—
    “I’m not referring to the voyage,” said Demosthenes. “That should be simple enough.” He pointd to the map. “From here around the Pelopponese, and then a straight run to Megale Hellas. Probably make landfall in Tarentum, on the boot of Italy. And then from there to Syracuse.”
    Lugorix’s brow furrowed. There was something about all this that wasn’t quite adding up for him. “If you want to fight Alexander, shouldn’t we be remaining in Athens?” he asked. “If Alexander overruns the city, it’s all over anyway.”
    “He might try,” said Matthias. “But I think he knows he won’t succeed.”
    Lugorix shook his head. “Won’t succeed and Alexander are words that don’t go well together. Didn’t they say Tyre couldn’t be taken?”
    “Athens isn’t Tyre,” said Matthias.
    Demosthenes cut in. “In terms of physical defenses, that’s certainly true. The moats of Athens are half a mile wide, and patrolled by the latest ironclad dreadnaughts. The walls are lined with rapid-fire bolt-throwers and sulphur-fueled flamethrowers. Each tower contains lenses that concentrate the sunlight into rays capable of frying flesh at a distance of more than two miles.”
    “Doesn’t mean Alexander can’t find way his through,” said Lugorix.
    “I’m