“Try and show a bit of decorum, lads,” Hamish grumbled at the trio. “You’re in the public eye, for Goddess’ sake. What would your mother say seeing you lot dirtying up your clothes like wee pigs in a pen?”
Darshan discreetly covered his hands with a faint layer of ice and rubbed until it melted. It didn’t remove all of the stickiness, although the remainder was more tacky bits of crumb that he could easily—
The street opened out into what had to be the central market square.
He slowed, the remnants of his honey cake all but forgotten. With what had to be the vast majority of Mullhind crammed into such a space, Darshan had to stand on his toes and crane his neck to see more than a few feet in front of him.
It wasn’t that there weren’t similar squares dotted across Minamist’s merchant quarter, because there were a great many that were more expansive and draped in far richer trappings. Nor did the elements of a spring festival faze him for, with as many deities as the Udynea Empire had, there was bound to be some sort of celebration each month. Sometimes there would be two or three festivals within a few days of each other.
But nothing back home had the same warm rustic air about it. Shops with their lush awnings and signage lined the outer edge whilst temporary stands crowded the middle of the square, rubbing shoulders with more permanent stalls.
Darshan remained rooted to the spot, hesitant to move on and be disappointed by what he would find amongst the stock. Oh Ange, how I wish you were here. His twin would’ve adored this. She’d a fondness for all things… “Quaint.” Could he perhaps find a trinket for her amongst these stalls? He swung towards the children. “Right, boys. I have gold burning a hole in my money pouch and siblings to buy for. Where to first?”
“I know!” Ethan declared, grabbing Darshan’s sleeve and towing him through the crowd. The boy moved with an agility that spoke of numerous times dodging around those far taller than he and with a distinct air of determination.
They halted roughly a third of the way into the centre of the square. Stalls bearing all manner of wares flanked him just as expansively as other stall spread out before him. He perused a nearby stall from a distance. Sadly, they had little more than the same trite baubles he’d seen echoed amongst the festivals markets back home. Cautiously hopeful, he strolled along the stall fronts, with the other two boys and Hamish easily catching up to them.
“It would probably help if you told us what you’re looking for,” his lover suggested. “Otherwise, you could be hours here and find nae even a sign of a gnat’s knee.”
“I wish I knew,” Darshan confessed. His twin was perhaps the hardest to find a gift for, if only because she already boasted a great deal. Modest trinkets were always greeted with delight, but—
He halted before a stall displaying a number of carved chunks of stone. Animals were a favourite of Anjali. She had a few crudely-carved statuettes from Cezhory, a finely-spun glass figurine of a dolphin leaping from the water that’d survived a heart-stopping trip all the way from a prominent glass baroness in Niholia, and a scrimshawed shell gifted to her by the ambassador of the Independent Isles. What would fit best amongst those pieces?
“What about this?” Mac asked, holding up a painted, stone statue of a tortoise almost as big as his head. If the merchant had also made it, then the man had some skill for both the fine detail in the stone carving and the paints. Combined, it gave the piece an unerringly life-like air. “It’s pretty.”
Extremely. The habitual noncommittal grunt passed his lips before Darshan could check it. “You have quite the eye. However, my oldest sister has a real one.”
Mac’s eyes widened. “Real?” he squeaked. “Really real?”
Darshan grinned. The boy couldn’t have looked any more amazed if he had been told dragons were real. “Yes. She calls him Mani. He came from the Independent Isles about ten—maybe twelve—years ago.” Anjali had acquired quite a number of gifts back then, before the man courting her realised she wasn’t at all interested in… anyone really. Whilst most of his sisters sought marriages, Anjali preferred her animals and her books. “I would say it is about the size of the average dog now. Looks quite like that, actually.” He tapped the stone tortoise on the nose.
The boy stared at the statue as if he held a live animal rather than stone. “Uncle ‘Mish,” he said, his voice little more than a peep in the crowd. “Can I have this?”
“You already have three,” pointed out Mac’s oldest brother.
“And you broke those within a day,” Hamish grumbled. “The last thing you need is another one to destroy.”
“Have a heart, Uncle ‘Mish,” Darshan purred, batting his lashes and nudging his lover. “It is the Spring Festival after all; a time for frivolity and excess.” At least, that’s how the nobles in Minamist celebrated the Fresh Year. He assumed they were comparable. “Who actually spends their festival money on necessities, anyway?”
“I do,” Hamish shot back. “And you should think about acquiring something a wee bit warmer than that.” He indicated Darshan’s modest attire of fine linen and silk. “Especially if you plan to journey with us tomorrow.”
Darshan flapped a hand, dismissing the idea. If he was cold along the way, then his magic could serve to warm him well enough. “I am certain Mac will take good care of this one,” he said, returning to his original point. He handed two gold coins over to the merchant. “Especially with it being a gift from a friend afield.”
If he thought Mac’s eyes couldn’t get any larger, he was wrong. “I can keep it?” he whispered. The boy hunched
