it’s been out of what we share. So long as we don’t add any more Citizens, we’ll be fine. I suggest then, that we keep today’s business focused and not get sidetracked on the food issue.”
Ben Staunten, the Master of Stores, stood up from his seat. “Davel must have been drinking too much of his own bloodwater,” he said, his voice a resonant baritone. “We’re eating through our dried foodstuffs. Keep on the way we’re going and sooner or later we’ll have to cut back.”
“Devils haven’t always been this scarce,” Mancini responded. “We’d be foolish to expect them not to return.”
Father Klein nodded. “I have been in Hell the longest of us, and I can agree with Mancini. I have never seen the devils as thin as they are now, but Hell definitely has a balance. That balance will be restored.”
“I think we can all agree that we cannot feed the villagers from the Fore’s storeroom,” Ben Staunten chimed in.
“Of course,” Michael said. “No villager would brave the wilds, looking for new sources of food, if he didn’t think there was a Citizenship in it for him.”
Chelsea, who had been playing with her long, red braid stood, letting it fall down one shoulder. “It’s not just the meat. Our villagers are on the edge of starvation. Sure, there is enough to feed them now, but the produce of the wilds is not always constant.”
She sat down quickly and resumed toying with her hair.
Aaron spoke next, “It’s true. I mean, look at little Julian. He feeds over one hundred of our villagers with his devilwheat. What would happen without him?”
“He’s a bright kid. He’ll be fine,” Copperfield, who made Harpsborough’s torches, said loudly.
“He might stay alive or he might not.” Mancini stood up from his bench and walked along his row towards the center of the Citizens. “Can we afford to lose him?”
Staunten shook his head.
“Then we should have him followed,” Mancini suggested. “We should demand that he show us where he roams, and where he finds this devilwheat. If it is so important, then the Fore should control it.”
“No!” shouted Michael. “I will not let it happen. We would break our trust with the villagers. They trust us to protect their right to their own findings. I will not have that compromised.”
“And if he dies?” Copperfield asked.
“We know about where he ranges,” Aaron said. “It’s pretty close. Give my hunters a few days and we’d be able to find his stash.”
“And if you can’t?” Davel asked.
“Aaron’s assurance is good enough for me,” Michael said.
Chelsea stood again. “That’s not the problem. The problem is that there are too many of us. Citizens never die. We keep the rule of one for every ten, but what happens if we start losing villagers to this famine? We Citizens grow our number when we can, but when we need to shrink, we can’t. I know a thing or two about hunting from the old world. If you harvest an area too hard, you run out of game. Why can’t you comprehend that this is happening here?”
“What are you suggesting?” Staunten snapped back. “That we’ll kill off all the devils in Hell?”
“Of course not. Just all the devils here. If we want them to return, we should stop hunting them for a while. Almost all the meat is being eaten in the Fore. The villagers don’t eat hardly any. If we just eat as they do for a little while and let the wilds recover—”
“This is ludicrous!” Mancini shouted. “Hell is far too vast for us to deplete it. If we could, what kind of damnation would this be?”
“It does sound ridiculous,” Michael told Chelsea, leaning back against the pulpit. “Aaron, is there any truth in your mind to what she says? It has been some time since I’ve been in the wilds.”
“We’re never going to run out of demons,” Aaron answered. “But something does have to change. My men are ranging as far as they can within their restrictions. If you want us to pull in more
Ben Staunten, the Master of Stores, stood up from his seat. “Davel must have been drinking too much of his own bloodwater,” he said, his voice a resonant baritone. “We’re eating through our dried foodstuffs. Keep on the way we’re going and sooner or later we’ll have to cut back.”
“Devils haven’t always been this scarce,” Mancini responded. “We’d be foolish to expect them not to return.”
Father Klein nodded. “I have been in Hell the longest of us, and I can agree with Mancini. I have never seen the devils as thin as they are now, but Hell definitely has a balance. That balance will be restored.”
“I think we can all agree that we cannot feed the villagers from the Fore’s storeroom,” Ben Staunten chimed in.
“Of course,” Michael said. “No villager would brave the wilds, looking for new sources of food, if he didn’t think there was a Citizenship in it for him.”
Chelsea, who had been playing with her long, red braid stood, letting it fall down one shoulder. “It’s not just the meat. Our villagers are on the edge of starvation. Sure, there is enough to feed them now, but the produce of the wilds is not always constant.”
She sat down quickly and resumed toying with her hair.
Aaron spoke next, “It’s true. I mean, look at little Julian. He feeds over one hundred of our villagers with his devilwheat. What would happen without him?”
“He’s a bright kid. He’ll be fine,” Copperfield, who made Harpsborough’s torches, said loudly.
“He might stay alive or he might not.” Mancini stood up from his bench and walked along his row towards the center of the Citizens. “Can we afford to lose him?”
Staunten shook his head.
“Then we should have him followed,” Mancini suggested. “We should demand that he show us where he roams, and where he finds this devilwheat. If it is so important, then the Fore should control it.”
“No!” shouted Michael. “I will not let it happen. We would break our trust with the villagers. They trust us to protect their right to their own findings. I will not have that compromised.”
“And if he dies?” Copperfield asked.
“We know about where he ranges,” Aaron said. “It’s pretty close. Give my hunters a few days and we’d be able to find his stash.”
“And if you can’t?” Davel asked.
“Aaron’s assurance is good enough for me,” Michael said.
Chelsea stood again. “That’s not the problem. The problem is that there are too many of us. Citizens never die. We keep the rule of one for every ten, but what happens if we start losing villagers to this famine? We Citizens grow our number when we can, but when we need to shrink, we can’t. I know a thing or two about hunting from the old world. If you harvest an area too hard, you run out of game. Why can’t you comprehend that this is happening here?”
“What are you suggesting?” Staunten snapped back. “That we’ll kill off all the devils in Hell?”
“Of course not. Just all the devils here. If we want them to return, we should stop hunting them for a while. Almost all the meat is being eaten in the Fore. The villagers don’t eat hardly any. If we just eat as they do for a little while and let the wilds recover—”
“This is ludicrous!” Mancini shouted. “Hell is far too vast for us to deplete it. If we could, what kind of damnation would this be?”
“It does sound ridiculous,” Michael told Chelsea, leaning back against the pulpit. “Aaron, is there any truth in your mind to what she says? It has been some time since I’ve been in the wilds.”
“We’re never going to run out of demons,” Aaron answered. “But something does have to change. My men are ranging as far as they can within their restrictions. If you want us to pull in more
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