The granary keeper set a small brass weight on the arm of her throne.
"Who do you think fed the people beneath your mountain during the long winters? Someone counted the sacks. Someone decided what each household could take. Let everyone claim what they pleased, and the last child in line would go hungry."
That, Kali understood. She had kept stores in her settlement. Someone among her servants had seen to their distribution, a tedious business she had seldom troubled herself with.
"What would you have me do?"
The instant she asked, her stomach cramped. Hunger cut so sharply through her that she tasted dust, and for a moment she would have sworn she was back on that barren road, contemplating another mouthful from an almost empty flask.
The woman held out a piece of bread. "Kneel and receive your share."
Kali eyed the bread, then the gold burning brightly beneath the woman's shoes.
"You may keep it."
