Robin said nothing, confirming Ian’s suspicions that she was sacrificing more than just her bed.
“You cannot sustain this,” Ian said, keeping his voice gentle. “Soon, you will have nothing left to give, and then what will happen to those who rely on you?”
“I know that!” Robin’s voice was tense again with quiet anger. “But what can I do? I have no other options. I cannot feed people on wood chips and straw!”
“I know, Robin,” Ian said. “I see that. I see what you are doing, and I understand how important it is. I know how it feels to sacrifice every part of yourself because you can see no other way forward.”
He walked the next several steps in silence, hoping that his words had reached her.
She said nothing, so he continued with their original discussion. “For the scarcity problem, would you feelcomfortable implementing a system based on supply and not on justice?”
“I do not know what that means,” Robin replied. “But I am listening.”
“If we can eliminate the villagers’ fear of scarcity,” Ian said, “we can still distribute food in the way that you have been while building trust with the villagers—that there will always be another cart and it will be on time, before they run out of food again.”
“We cannot do that, though,” Robin said. “I just told you the wagons are unpredictable.”
“Exactly,” Ian agreed. “And so you are treating every distribution as though it might be the last one. That fear is palpable. If we were to create a way for you to store at least one wagon’s worth of food at Lockwood—preferably two or three—then we could guarantee the next distribution day.”
“I see how that would help with the fear and scarcity,” Robin said. “But I do not know how quickly I can get another wagon from Allys. Our contacts there are already spread thin helping us as it is.”
Ian stopped walking, forcing Robin to stop as well so as not to run into him. “Butmycontacts there are not spread thin.” He turned to face her.
“No,” Robin replied quickly, shaking her head. “I cannot rely on a system that relies on the crown. I will not answer to someone else or bow to their idea of justice.”
“Wait.” Ian held up a hand. “I did not explain that well. I was not suggesting that I or my father support every cart and delivery. Simply allow me to discreetly request one or two wagons from nobles in Allys whom I trust so that you can build a backup of stores to help with the predictability.”
“Oh,” Robin said, her shoulders visibly deflating. She nodded her head.
When she said nothing further, Ian turned and continued down the forest path, letting a comfortable silence reign as they walked toward home.
Despite the pre-dawn hour, Ian found himself still quite awake when they arrived back at the manor. To his surprise, Robin, Nele, Jette, and Rigelt followed him, Ulli, and Lane back to the small fire the three men usually slept around.
Ulli raked the hot coals to life while Lane added a few fresh logs.
As the flames burst to life, Robin and the rest of the bandits settled themselves onto nearby stumps and logs.
Ian sat down with them.
“We always finish a raid together,” Lane said, reaching toward the flames to warm his hands.
Ian nodded, glad for a moment of rest together while his body was still quite awake.
A moment later, Lane jumped from his seat and headed toward the manor house.
Ian turned to see Willa approaching them with a large iron kettle, which Lane took from her.
“You didn’t need to get out of bed for us,” Robin said when the young cook joined the circle, sitting on one half of the log Lane had just vacated.
Willa yawned. “I know,” she said. “But you must be hungry after all that walking.” She reached into a large bag tied at her waist and started passing out small wooden cups to everyone.
Lane moved around the circle, pouring hot, steaming liquid into each cup.
Ian held his cup to his nose, inhaling the salty, savory scent of a slow-cooked broth. In that moment, nothing else would be more appetizing.
“Ian,” Robin said softly from the stump next to his. “Please reach out to those you mentioned.”
Ian nodded. He knew just who to ask.
