Hamish’s heart leapt as the ship bumped against the pier. This was it. The first proper leg of their journey across the empire. Nothing left but to follow Darshan’s lead.
The dock planks creaked and clattered under his foot no differently to those back home. When he breathed deep, the air was no less briny or pungently fishy. Nor was the chatter, now he understood a fair chunk of the language, any different. People still yelled at their underlings and merchants hawked their wares just as boldly.
His chest ached with the familiarity of it all.
But one thing was lacking. Where are the guards? This was a border city and of a size almost twice that of the port they’d left. There should’ve been people patrolling the docks if not the streets. Or did the threat of upsetting a spellster keep people in check?
They waited for their mounts to be unloaded and brought to them by one of the sailors. She bowed upon handed them the reins before returning to assist her crew in unloading the rest of the ship’s cargo. The horses were already saddled and laden with their gear, a little on the lean side food-wise.
Hamish gave his mare a hearty pat on the shoulder as she blew into his face, pleased to see her again after the days she had spent stabled below deck. She seemed no worse for wear despite never having travelled aboard a ship before. It seemed he had worried over the possibility of leaving her behind in Tirglas for nothing. “Do you think they’ll handle the warmer weather once we head south?”
“I am certain,” Darshan replied, speaking entirely in Udynean. His voice rose as they left the dockside. “That the stable hands in the palace will keep them comfortable. But we could always clip their coats if they appear distressed on the journey.”
They pressed deeper into the city, entering a busy market square.
This, too, looked no different to home. The vendors, the shops, even the people were common. Before their arrival, he had thought his clothes would have him standing out, but they were a close enough cut for him to blend in with the crowd. He supposed the similarity in terms of climate helped there.
Still, a touch of disappointment gnawed at him. He was in another kingdom, on the fringes, yes—the port city being not even a week’s ride from the Tirglasian border—but it all looked the same.
Darshan jerked his head at a white-walled building on the other side of the square. “This way.”
Hamish tilted his head as they passed through the building’s archway and into a small courtyard. Was that music? It was difficult to tell over the chatter of the square at their backs, but he could’ve sworn his ears picked up the hushed beat of a drum—just audible over the quivering thrum and sigh of stringed instruments.
Were they headed for an inn so early in the day? He had thought for sure that Darshan would’ve sought out funds first. Or contacted his family in Minamist. Although, Hamish understood the urge to dither on the latter. Darshan couldn’t be looking forward to explaining the mess they had made of the trade negotiations.
Nevertheless, he followed his husband’s lead in handing over his horse’s reins to a waiting stablehand and trailed inside, pushing aside a gauzy curtain.
The building’s interior looked no less hazy, largely thanks to the men and women puffing away on long pipes. Thin plumes of smoke curled out one end, pooling in the arches and painted panels that made up the ceiling. Visions of pastures and mountains adorned the wood, the greens and whites stained a tar brown by the smoke. Hamish’s eyes watered the longer he lingered in the doorway. His chest burned, but coughing did little to clear it.
The music he had heard came from a trio of elven men seated upon a dais in a corner. They swayed with each note, their surroundings lost to the sound. Being bare to the waist, the lantern light shone dully on their collars.
Slaves. He knew he would’ve come across them eventually—not perhaps this soon.
“What is it?” His husband had vanished from his side for the brief moment Hamish had taken to survey the room, but Darshan now stood before him with a frown furrowing the space between his brows. He turned his head, those hazel eyes searching the dim corner with the musicians before realisation slackened his face. “Would you like me to see them removed?”
Hamish shook his head. Whilst the idea of slaves was an unsavoury one, he couldn’t expect them to be hidden for the benefit of him forgetting they were there. I’d like to see them free. Even as the thought surfaced, he knew it wasn’t as easy as he had once thought. Darshan had spent a great deal of their journey on the water explaining the rules Udynea had about their most precious commodity.
A woman appeared from behind another gauzy curtain sectioning off a corridor. She trotted over and bowed. “How may we serve you today…” Her gaze darted over Hamish, and clearly dismissed him with a flattening of her lips, before turning back to Darshan. “…my lord?”
“Two cups of your finest blend,” Darshan replied, lifting his left hand before him and almost idly rubbing his thumb over the ring on his forefinger. The ring bore a seal that only one man wore; that of the Udynean crown prince.
Gasping, the woman bowed even lower than before. “Right away, vris Mhanek.”
“My husband and I shall seat ourselves outside.”
Hamish’s throat tightened, any attempts at speech momentarily beyond him. My husband… They’d only been married a few days, how did the word fall so easily from Darshan’s lips? His gaze darted to the woman, looking for the same hint of the distaste he had met during their time travelling down to the Tirglasian port.
If she thought strangely of them, she seemed to know better than to show it. “Of course, vris Mhanek.”
“Come with me,” Darshan said, entwining their
