The summons came at dusk.
Lysander had been in the supply office since midday, hunched over the grain allocation tablets with Doros, trying to squeeze another month out of the reserves. The Egyptian barley was holding up well, the salted fish distributed efficiently, but the settlement's population kept growing. Every week brought new arrivals, every arrival another mouth to feed.
"Two more months," Doros said, running his finger down the tablet. "That's what we have at full rationing."
"And if we cut by another fifth."
"Three. But people are already hungry. Cut more, and the militia can't train. The children in the schools start fainting."
Lysander rubbed his eyes. The numbers blurred in the lamplight. "Keep the rations where they are. I'll find another source."
Doros nodded and gathered his tablets. He had learned not to ask where the other sources would come from. Lysander always found them.
