"How many?" Zen asked.
Zen watched a woman carrying a small child stumble and nearly fall. A man helped her up, and they kept walking, joining the kneeling crowd.
"Send them away," Zen said quietly.
Lysandra blinked. "My Lord?"
"Tell them we can't help. Give them... I don't know, some food for the road, and send them to the nearest town."
"My Lord, the nearest town is Millbrook, and it's twenty kilometers away. Many of these people are wounded. They won't make it."
"Then they can stay one night," Zen said. "One night, then they leave. I can't take responsibility for this many people."
It was the most logical and practical decision… the decision a smart businessman would make when faced with a liability he could not afford. But as Zen said it, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd heard something similar before in the past… in another life.
"Sorry kid, we're not a charity. You want to eat, you work. Can't work? Not my problem."
