The way Syrus raised his voice when he said it had to be deliberate, making sure the people nearest to them heard it. Their reactions ranged from surprised to outright disgust, with most falling somewhere between. Not a single person appeared happy about it.
“For now, let’s start with getting something to eat andgetting back to the palace before that storm hits,” he suggested, nodding toward the horizon. “It looks like it’s going to be a bad one.” Given the direction the storm was moving, it’d likely hit Canjir a day or two ago, and he made a mental note to write to Akari. Despite growing up on an island prone to storms, they still scared her.
Except… he couldn’t write to Akari, could he? His letters were to be given to Kien to send, to ensure they left Lodie untampered with. What would he do now that he could no longer trust the one ally he’d had here?
“Is everything all right?”
Eiri shrugged. “Just thinking that the storm had likely already hit Canjir. Let’s keep moving. If we have to walk, we’re not going to make it back before the rain hits.”
“A little rain never hurt anyone, but you’re probably right. Here, let me get us something,” Syrus said, crossing to one of the food stalls along the road. Like most Eiri had seen, this one was on wheels with a canopy that could fold out to provide shade from the sun or cover from rain. It was small enough for the owner to pull without help, with just enough space for him to work. The feel of magic tickled his senses, and he noted several sigils carved into the wood, including one on a small box that appeared to keep whatever was inside warm. The owner must either be a mage or know someone who was, because Eiri had seen how much mages charged for spells like that to be recharged.
“Your Highness. You honor me,” the man purred when Syrus approached. His eyes darted to Eiri and narrowed, lip curling in that all too familiar look of disdain, before dismissing him and turning his full attention to his prince.
“We’d like two of your meat pies, please.” Syrus must have missed that quick look, or he didn’t care, because he just handed over two coins for the food.
“Of course. Give me a moment and I’ll make you a fresh one. Can I get you anything else?”
“No, thank you. We’ll wait over here,” Syrus said, and it was the friendliest Eiri had ever heard him. Was this the side of Syrus everyone else knew? His charm clearly worked, because the man was all smiles when Syrus turned away, at least until he saw Eiri. The smile dropped, and Eiri decided on the spot that he wouldn’t be eating anything this man prepared for him.
“Have you ever had pork hand pies?” Syrus asked when he rejoined Eiri, oblivious to the byplay from the vendor.
He shook his head. “We have a version with fish back home, but pork is rare in Canjir.”
“Really? Wild boars can live just about anywhere, I’d thought?”
“They can and do. There are quite a few on the island, but actually hunting one is more difficult than it’s worth, usually. It’s much easier to cast a net and catch a few hundred fish than send a dozen people out to catch one boar.”
“I suppose I never thought of it like that. We have pig farmers that supply the city, and while some people hunt boars for the sport of it, they usually bring along at least one mage to make it easier.”
“How is using magic against a wild animal sporting?” Eiri asked, arching an eyebrow. He knew the nobles of Vaetreas were idiots, but hunting for sport was one of the most ridiculous things he’d ever heard.
“That’s a good question. I’ve never been one for such hunts, myself, though I’ll admit I enjoy the results,” Syrus said with a little laugh.
“Maybe it’s because it’s what I’ve known all my life, but I prefer fish to any other meat I’ve ever had.” Not that other meat was plentiful in Canjir. Raising animals for food took resources that could be better put to keeping the people fed, most ofwhom struggled daily to get enough. There was nothing extra to give to livestock.
“Meanwhile, I’ll take just about anything else over fish. Eating fish every day didn’t make you hate it? I was thoroughly sick of them by the time I was a teenager.”
“It was a simple way to make sure I went to bed with a full stomach. Good fishing days for the crews meant everyone in the community got enough to eat for once, so no, I don’t think I will ever be sick of fish,” he said with a shrug.
For some reason, that drew a frown from Syrus. Before Eiri could ask about it, though, the vendor hurried over with two wrapped parcels.
“Here you are, Your Highness,” he said, bowing. He offered one to Syrus, then surprised Eiri by handing one to him as well. While he’d like to believe the man had gotten over his initial reaction and was attempting to be kind, he couldn’t help but think he’d done it to ensure Syrus received that specific pie. The way the vendor steadfastly refused to look at him only affirmed to Eiri that he would not be eating what he’d been given.
Syrus thanked the man, his smile back in place as he and Eiri started walking again. They were miles from the palace, but apparently that didn’t concern him, because he kept the pace relaxed.
“This smells amazing. Let me know what you think,” he said, unwrapping the parcel to reveal a steaming meat pie, the crust perfectly golden brown. That must be what was in that spelled box under the cart, then.
“I think I’ll save mine for when we get back,” Eiri replied easily.
“It’ll be cold if you do that, and these are best when they’re still warm.” Syrus took a big bite of his, groaning with pleasure in a way that Eiri had never associated with food before. He had to admit, itdidsmell good.
He had two options. Either he could argue and insist on waiting, which would likely lead to an argument, or at least upset Syrus. Or, he could concede and hope that he’d read the vendor wrong and the food was safe.
Sighing, Eiri unwrapped the thick paper wrapping and peeled back the edge. At first glance, it looked just like the one Syrus was eating, with a perfect crust and a gentle swirl of steam coming from the little vents cut into the pastry. For just a moment, Eiri wondered if he’d overreacted. Then the wind shifted, and he caught the scent of it. Cooked meat, heavy with spices, but there was an odd sweetness that lingered, subtle but distinct.
Resigned, he tore off a corner of the pastry. Where the meat in Syrus’ pie was pink and succulent, the pieces he could make out in his own were gray, with a grainy, mealy texture. His stomach twisted as the smell of rancid meat hit him, and he quickly wrapped it back up, swallowing back his nausea.
“I suppose I’ll take your word for it,” he muttered. When he got only silence in response, he glanced over at Syrus to see him staring at the parcel in Eiri’s hands. The sharp look on the man’s face was so reminiscent of the soldier he’d fought for years that his first instinct was to reach for a weapon to protect himself. It took a moment to realize that the anger in Syrus’ dark eyes wasn’t for him, for once.
