Page 19 of The Prince's Sacrifice

“And it’s Tond’s citizens who are suffering. You wouldn’t like it if it were happening in Alossa, would you?”

“No,” Tor admitted. “I’d probably be out patrolling like Bavil and trying to get to the bottom of it. But I don’t want anyone to starve, Tondian or exile.”

Pel inclined his head in concession. “Yes, that’s true.”

Tor decided he would question Bavil more closely when he got back. Maybe it was as simple as the weather impacting the exiles and forcing them to do what needed to be done to survive. Pel wasn’t wrong about it being hard on Tond’s citizens, but from everything Tor had heard, there’d been little damage and no attacks. These seemed to be calculated incursions that didn’t take all of anyone’s supplies.

But they seemed to be drifting further and further into Tond, which was sparking people’s concern—but not quite as much outrage as Tor might have expected from the people who were impacted.

He’d encountered his first farm that had had supplies stolen this close to the capital, but it was a couple chickens and a sack of last year’s grain, not all of either.

And the farmers seemed more… resigned than anything, though they grumbled that it wasn’t right.

Tor took this to mean that at least for now, these people still had enough to survive. It was someone absconding with their hard work, but it wasn’t threatening their livelihood yet.

Pel assured him that Prince Bavil was out on patrol and keeping a close eye on the situation, as was King Forex. (From Tor’s point of view, King Forex mostly blustered and shouted, which wasn’t particularly useful.)

As they left, Pel said, “You think it’s unusual, don’t you?”

Tor considered this. “I don’t know what I think. I thought they’d be angrier, and I can’t quite decide if they’d want to help their neighbors if given half a chance or if they don’t expect anything better.”

The first could be a good thing. The second indicated some deep flaws in the overall safety and happiness of Tondians.

“Is that why the exiles are raiding like this?” Pel asked. “To try to prevent outrage?”

Tor pondered. “Maybe. That’s a good point. Perhaps they aim to reduce the chance of retaliation by reducing the damage done. Direct injuries to citizens or property would be more likely to cause outrage.”

“It’s hard to stop people you’ve been ordered not to pursue past the mountains,” Pel pointed out.

“True,” Tor agreed flatly.

It certainly didn’t go well when you did that.

They rode on in silence for a few moments, and then Pel leaned over his saddle to reach out and squeeze Tor’s hand.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Tor blew out a breath. “I know it wasn’t.”

Pel cleared his throat and sat back up. “So we can’t pursue them into the mountains. How do we convince them to stop?”

“Give them a viable alternative.”

“But they already have land of their own,” Pel pointed out.

Tor nodded. “I’m not sure we can figure it out without asking.”

To Tor’s mind, there was a big difference between laziness or a desire for revenge against Tond—King Forex’s favorite suggestions—versus taking just enough not to starve.

“But they’re not interested in conversation.”

“Are we sure about that?” Tor asked. “When’s the last time we tried to talk to them?”

“When your mother ordered them over the mountain never to return, probably,” Pel said, shrugging. “Our patrols rarely catch them—and they resist capture if cornered.”

Tor didn’t like the sound of any of it.

“I’m going to ask Bavil more about it when he comes back,” Tor said, his resolve from earlier firming. “Maybe I should go on one of the patrols.”