Given the number of carts that had used the road for the Spring Festival, they could be certain of the main passage being clear. The road to the cloister would be another matter. Few went there unless they absolutely had no choice, even the priests overseeing the spellsters seemed to dislike being reminded where they were.
“Why do some of these trees have wispy leaves?” Darshan asked. His gaze hadn’t left the trees since entering it. Hamish had mistaken the intensity of the man’s look for apprehension. “Are they sickly?”
“They’re nae sickly,” Gordon replied, his brow furrowing. “It’s what they always look like in the spring. They shed their leaves every autumn and start growing new ones after the snow melts. Is it nae like that in Udynea?”
“There are very few trees in Minamist, but we’ve an estate just near the border of Stamekia. Spent a few winters there in my youth. The trees near our house were lush and green all through the winter. Except for some of the nearby orchards. Are these fruit trees, perchance?”
Shrugging, Gordon glanced Hamish’s way. His brother could march a company of soldiers through the densest of forests, but he was terrible at remembering much about the different trees beyond their uses. “It’s just your usual forest,” Gordon mumbled.
“Do none of the trees in Udynea lose their leaves, beyond the fruit trees?” Hamish asked. It seemed a bit farfetched, but the kingdom of Obuzan lay just across the strait south of them that the locals called Freedom’s Leap and he had heard plenty of tales about their lands being nothing but untameable jungle in places.
“Some do, of course,” Darshan confessed, shooting him a glance that clearly queried Hamish’s acumen. “But it is more typically in the dry season—what I believe you refer to as summer—not winter.” He frowned at the trees anew, seemingly disgusted with their lack of leaves.
Carts started appearing on the road as the sun rose higher. Some travelled alongside them for a spell, idly chatting about the weather or this and that rumour. But the larger flow of people were those hastening towards the city with their wares, likely trying their luck at the Spring Festival before buyers’ coin pouches grew lean.
Gordon took the opportunity to buy a few supplies from a handful of the merchants, ambling beside the carts to bargain, then trotting back with his haul to divide it amongst them. For the most part, that haul consisted of withered fruits from the last harvest along with a few loaves of day-old bread.
They halted on the side of the road come midday to rest the horses.
Darshan groaned as he slithered to the ground. He took a few wobbly steps, massaging his backside and thighs as he stretched. “Well, that certainly tenderised the old buttocks.” Even so, he made swift work of the saddle, unbuckling it and setting his gear at the base of a tree with the others.
Hamish reached for a loaf of bread stashed in his pack, giving a hunk to his mare to chew before her questing mouth could slobber over the whole thing.
“I’m surprised you’ve managed so well,” Gordon said as he unwrapped a block of cheese bound in wax cloth, a parting gift from the castle kitchen. He broke off a sizable chunk and handed it to Hamish, swapping the cheese for some of the bread. “Wouldnae have thought you’d have many opportunities to spend the day on horseback.”
Darshan laughed. “Not as much as I used to, sadly.” He tethered the pony with the rest of the mounts, leaving them to quietly graze in the dappled light breaking through the branches. “But do you honestly think one gets to look this good just lazing around the palace? If I ate but only half of the rich food back home without some form of training, I would be the size of the palace by now.”
“To be honest,” Gordon mumbled around a mouthful of cheese and bread. “I wouldnae have a clue what you lot do down in that empire of yours.”
Humming, Darshan broke off a piece of cheese as the block passed to him and popped it in his mouth. “Granted,” he said after he had finished chewing. “We are not as ravenous as elves when it comes to sustenance, but magic certainly demands much of our energy.”
“Aye, take Zur,” Sean piped up, clapping a hand on his fellow guard.
Zurron grimaced and tugged at the hood of his cloak in an attempt to pull it over his head. Both Sean’s arm and one of the elf’s own ears seemed to hinder him.
Sean continued, oblivious to his companion, “I’ve seen him devour a whole lamb leg and still go looking for more.”
“I have no doubt he has done so many times,” Darshan replied, a faint smile lifting the corners of his mouth. He’d likely seen his fair share of elves and their eating habits, more than Hamish could say. “The dwarves have many theories about elves and food. I believe the current one is that, due to the sharpness of certain teeth, the original elves had a diet primarily of meat and they would have consumed a lot of it.”
The elf fingered one of his canines, then ran the tip of his tongue over the points.
Odd. Hamish hadn’t noticed their sharpness before. Or their length. Akin to that of a young bear in being slightly longer than the rest.
“The dwarves think elves were predators?” Sean mumbled, his brows pulled low in thought. “As in hunting down things bare-handed and all that?”
Bubbly laughter shook Darshan’s body. He
