‘Ditto,’ Ralph said, though it was obvious the main focus of his thoughts was elsewhere. At last, he said, ‘Will Cir’s soldier’s have done anything, do you think?’ It was apparent from his tone of voice, as well as his visage, that he was visibly upset by what he was thinking. ‘I mean, they are soldiers. They will just take civilians prisoner, until they get further orders, won’t they?’
‘That,’ Pran said, his face pale with his own unspoken fears, ‘depends entirely on what they were initially ordered to do. Regardless, many of Prince Cir’s soldiers can’t be trusted to follow orders, and many take licence from the Prince’s actions.’ In a barely audible voice, he added, ‘There is no telling what his soldiers will do . . . or what they are capable of.’
Rani extracted her hand from Nevana’s impatiently, and walked ahead with Zuic and the other children. Arlon and Durphel walked in the lead to either side, Arlon carrying a rusty old sword that looked much too big for his thin arm to wield, and Durphel using his long-tined hay fork like a walking stick. In the rear, Mari and Durus, also bearing sharp farm-implements, were silent and watchful, though they acted as though they were merely taking a stroll in the country.