Hamish tipped his head up to eye where the crest of the sphere had been. Raising a child who was capable of this had to be vastly different to the way childrearing was done in Tirglas. Nae paddles on the arse, for one. Certainly not after the first crack. “How do you stop wee bairns from burning down your houses?”
“That sort of magic does not manifest itself until about five years of age.”
Quinn gave a low whistle. “That’s a young age to have that sort of power.”
Extremely young. Especially when most Tirglasian spellsters discovered their abilities in their seventh or eighth year.
Darshan chuckled. “Strength is something that typically grows with time and practice, but there have been cases of a young child’s inexperience being behind a tragedy.” His expression had sobered the longer he spoke until he stared at his meal from beneath heavy brows. “I believe that was the theoretical cause of a fire that gutted half of the Pits in Nulshar some years back.”
“The Pits?” Hamish echoed. “What’s—?”
“They’re slums,” Zurron answered, sneering. “Mostly full of former slaves and elves. Those who are sick or injured, who cannae work well enough for a better home, live there.”
“And not generally safely,” Darshan added. “Or with much degree of health. My father has spent the better part of his life as Mhanek trying to find a way to improve the lives of people there. But I fear it may take the rest of it to see any sort of movement there.”
The group fell silent. They munched down the rest of their lunch, watching the odd cart go by and occasionally speculating what was within the sacks. Once everyone had eaten their fill, they threw the gear back onto the horses and returned to the road.
They encountered a few carts heading towards Mullhind—sadly carrying no more food than a traveller needed—but the vast majority seemed to have already passed by. Fewer still came by as they veered off the main stretch for the less-maintained road that would lead them to their destination.
“I would like to query one small detail,” Darshan eventually piped up, glancing over his shoulder at the guards who had, since lunch, been silently trailing them. “Will three men be enough to keep us safe?”
“Why wouldnae they be?” Gordon replied, his brow furrowing in confusion.
“What if we are attacked? You must admit, three princes is a respectable target.”
“I dinnae think the wildlife care who we are. And the bears are nae too much of a problem at this time of year, you’d be lucky to see one let alone have it bother you. Plus, with me brother around, we’ll be fine.”
“Why?” Darshan’s cheeks fattened with humour. “Does he speak bear?”
Gordon laughed. “Nae, but he can shoot them dead in the eye on the first go.”
Darshan swung his head around to shoot Hamish an incredulous look. “Really? Well, I hope we have no cause for you to use such a skill. But what of brigands?” he asked Gordon. “Would they not seek to rob us?”
“You’d be hard-pressed to find folk like them around here. It’s easier for them to find honest work in the farms, where food and a warm bed are part of the deal, than trying to pick out a living hiding in the forest. Those few who dare are soon caught or find themselves picked off by nature.”
“I find that highly implausible. The roads leading to Minamist are generally the worst for banditry.”
“Does your army nae patrol the imperial roads?”
Hamish held his breath. That question came perilously close to fishing for defence and tactics information.
Darshan laughed. “The imperial army patrol roads? The general would not have them be seen doing something so mundane. He only tolerates them getting involved in feuds only at the behest of the Mhanek.” He shook his head and gave a hiccupping snort. “No, the empire has an entirely different sector responsible for her roads and the safety of the people on them.”
“And yet, people still try the bandit life?” Gordon pressed. “They’re that desperate?”
“Desperation comes in many forms. Your first thought was of hunger and the home comforts of a bed. We must contend with war-broken families, slaves who have been abandoned or fled, even those who have been set free without the proper freedom fee…” He wrinkled his nose and pushed his glasses back up it. “People are doing that more and more, you know. It is a disgusting trend, worse than abandonment.”
Hamish shook his head. He didn’t understand one piece of what Darshan was saying. Leaning back to give his brother a surreptitious glance revealed Gordon to be none the wiser, he frowned at Darshan as if the man had lost his mind.
Darshan huffed and rolled his eyes. “When a slave is unwanted by their owners, a large portion of them are sold at market, but—” He held up a silencing finger as he audibly strained his voice in emphasis. “—there are a few who choose to free them. A fee is then paid to both the empire and the ex-slave. It is supposed to be enough to see them settled into a new life, but it often barely covers a single meal, if they see a single coin at all.”
“I ken all about what can happen to slaves, your highness,” Zurron muttered behind them.
Hamish twisted in the saddle to eye the pale-skinned guard. “Were you nae born in Tirglas?” He had spent so many years travelling alongside the man that he sometimes forgot Zurron had different experiences of the world, but surely the man would’ve mentioned being from another land.
“I am,” Zurron replied. “As is me mum. It’s me dad who came from the empire. He was just a wee lad still clinging to his mum’s apron, granted, but the memory of scraping by
