Page 71 of Elvenbred

“Sire?” said a very timid voice from the back. “About the rations—”

All the lords parted to reveal the lone woman in the room, a very young widow of one of the last of the lords who’d built their fortunes on their farms. Obviously now a very impoverished widow, since those farms were long gone. Haldeen recalled the talk about the country lords and their impoverishment. It never occurred to him to consider that one had been standing a few feet away.

She visibly gulped, then, at the king’s nod, continued to speak. “There are many small resources, that combined, could add a few more days to the rations, or even make up for the losses. All those people with tiny gardens, potted plants—I’m not saying confiscate those, I would suggest that the produce be counted against their daily rations. That returns more to the common store. And,” she added thoughtfully, “that will encourage them to make their little plots even more productive.”

The king’s eyebrows slowly rose, as he nodded his agreement. “Lord Provisioner, make it so. Organize it however you need to.” He continued to gaze at the young widow. “You have more?”

She licked her lips, nervously. “There are potential ration makers we have not touched yet. Noble families. The bare-yellows, people who can only make a bar or a handful in a day. And an enormous labor pool in the children and the elderly. Even if the children cannot yet use ambient magic, they can tend algae vats. Cancel schooling and install vats in the schools. Move all the elderly into central housing so their bars are easy to collect. Gather everyone not working a critical job and get them to make single bars a day, or half-bars, or crumbs. Make that their ration so they aren’t pulling on common stores.”

Haldeen almost uttered a nervous laugh at the idea of his ladywife being told she was going to be working in the ration room. Someone else burst out in a guffaw, which was quickly stifled at the king’s glare. “She’s right. We no longer have the option for a few to spend their time in pleasurable pursuits when there are mouths to feed. The bare-yellows can help feed themselves. And our children will have to grow up now. Lord Provisioner, find places and things we can convert quickly to vats and production stations, with a minimum of labor. Everyone must work, unless they are too young to stand or sit behind a table. No work, no ration. If someone wants to share theirs with someone who can’t work, that’s their outlook. Even an old cripple in a wheeled chair can tend a vat or a row of plants.” Haldeen noted what had not been spoken. If someone actually was too sick or elderly to even do that? Leave them with nothing but water and allow them to starve to death, I reckon.

Someone else tittered nervously. “I don’t fancy telling my wife she’s going to have to put on a smock and make ration bars ….”

“You won’t have to,” the king said, iron in his voice. “Lord Provisioner, you will make up orders under my seal and send them personally to the female heads of households throughout the city. Make it very clear that anyone who objects is going to have to find accommodations elsewhere.” His lips thinned into a hard line. “They can always try their luck outside the gates.”

Haldeen watched Alliard working through the details. “Team effort for the Gate. Amethyst leads the charge to take the Gate. Gatekeepers get it up and running. Evacuees pass through the corridor and out. Lord High Provisioner tells us to the crumb where we stand food-wise.” Everyone noticed the vast silence around who would be evacuated, and in what order. “Then, it’s up to Haldeen to tell us how we beat them. Hard and fast. I take as fact that we will lose a lot of troops taking and holding the corridor between Amethyst and the Great Gate. Questions.”

One of the lords Haldeen couldn’t see raised his voice. “Sire, I’d like to commend you on your quick thinking ….”

King Alliard cut him off. “Horseshit. The Kings have been debating and discussing variations of this plan for at least five forevers. I just need to get my counterparts off their fundaments. Everyone is staring at the same food math, and black mold is a thing in at least ….” He looked at Pelias. “Two other cities, High Lord Provisioner?”

Pelias nodded. “Aye, Sire.”

King Alliard ran his gaze across the assembled nobles, meeting their eyes in turn. “You know what you have to do. Reach out to families and contact. Sell this. Kaeltwyn, two stout lads, by the door, then attend me in the Farspeaker chamber when I go to wrestle some sense into my fellows. In the meantime, get some tea. Lords Marshall, High Provisioner, and Gatekeeper, walk with me.”

Haldeen caught Pelias’s eye. The younger man cracked a huge yawn. The Lord Marshall ignored them to catch up to the king. Once they were well away, Alliard led them to a small room. Once inside, he set a sensor to sniff for ambient magic, then whispered the incantation to bring a wall of silence down around them. Haldeen had never mastered the spell, a complex mix of brute power and subtlety.

Haldeen braced himself for a second scalding, perhaps worse that the one delivered in front of the Council. Alliard’s anger appeared to have passed, and his tones were conversational. They might have been discussing the weather. “The others heard what they needed to hear, and no more. I have questions. Haldeen, was she really that powerful?”

Haldeen tried to temporize, to find an evasion, but couldn’t think of anything. So, lacking any better options, he went with honesty. “I don’t know, my king. She made the yellow gem glow, and only flickered the orange. So, a firm low-middle according to our testing. She couldn’t do the ration volume … she said she couldn’t touch the ambient. Hit a guard with something powerful enough that we thought it was a weapon, until a search proved there was no weapon, so it was something she did. Stunned him. Didn’t kill. Don’t know if it was just the once, if it required anger, or something else. Her interrogator said she described herself as ‘weak,’ but we don’t know what that means either.”

Alliard looked at the Lord Marshall, considered a moment before answering. “We take it at face value. Her kind can cast some kind of stunning, if not killing blow, from a distance. We can too, if we have a firelance, but we’re limited to how many we can make and carry.” He shifted his attention to Haldeen. “Provided there is ambient magic when the operator triggers the spell.”

Haldeen nodded.

Alliard rubbed his nose, as he thought. “First task, Haldeen. Find a way to package ambient magic into a firelance. Just enough to complete the spell. That will put us on an equal footing with their casters, at least until we run out of lances.”

Haldeen exhaled, and nodded a quick yes.

The Lord Marshall took a deep breath. “There may be another way, my king.” He trailed off.

Alliard looked hard at him. “Go ahead. Out with it.”

The Lord Marshall’s expression suggested he’d wished he kept his mouth shut. “The girl you were talking about, that was supposed to be handed over, she was from this new world. Yes?”

“Yes,” Haldeen and Alliard responded together.

“She got sick, then. Got better?”

“Yes,” Haldeen replied.

“Where are we going with this, Lord Marshall?” Alliard snapped.

“Bear with me, Sire,” The Lord Marshall pressed on. “This may be important. She got sick here? After she arrived?”

“Yes,” Haldeen replied. He most emphatically did not want to talk about Triana. “After she got here. Yes.”

“Was it something she brought, or something she got from us here?”