Kody chewed on that as he made his way back to the kennel. Suppose the sister was right, and whatever Raiyen was up to was supposed to be for the benefit of the clan. Maybe he was even trying to earn himself a pardon, a way back into the elders’ good graces. So what could the clan possibly get out of all this? What is it they need?
An idea was forming in his head, but he needed to knock it around with someone. Fortunately, he knew just the right sparring partner.
“Izar!” he called as he stalked purposefully across the kennel.
Sergeant Izar was hunched over his desk, scribbling something on a sheet of parchment. He looked awkward, his bowed posture and splayed knees making the desk seem like children’s furniture. Not for the first time, Kody marveled at the man’s height. Being well over six foot himself, Kody figured Izar had to be just under seven.
The Adal glanced up as Kody approached. “What is it? I have a lot to get done by the end of the day.”
Kody was not deterred by Izar’s abruptness; it was simply his way. “This won’t take long. I just have a couple of questions.”
With a reluctant grunt, Izar gestured for Kody to grab a chair. “Five minutes.”
Kody didn’t waste a single second. “Is it true that the Adali don’t use currency?”
Izar’s expression darkened immediately. Like most Adali, he was suspicious of any line of questioning linked to his race. “What’s this about, Kody?”
Kody spread his hands in a mollifying gesture. “Izar, you know I respect you. Just humor me, all right?”
Izar considered him for a moment, his amber eyes scanning Kody’s face for—what? Hostility? Disdain? Kody was a little hurt that Izar wasn’t prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt. Granted, his question was sensitive, but they’d known each other for years.
“The Adali use currency,” Izar said eventually. “Every culture uses currency, Kody. It’s what sets us apart from beasts.” Kody did not miss the subtle irony in Izar’s tone. There were plenty in the Five Villages who wouldn’t set the Adali apart from beasts.
“What I mean is, they don’t use gold or paper money, or anything like that,” Kody said.
“Not traditionally, no, although that is changing. In Adali culture, wealth is measured in cattle. To a lesser extent, in goats or sheep.”
“That’s what I thought. So the Asis clan—that group camped near Berryvine—they’re about as poor as it gets.”
Izar didn’t respond. He was waiting for Kody to explain where he was going with this.
“Here’s what I don’t understand. Wealth is power, right? Influence. But it seems to me that if a clan’s wealth is measured in cattle, there’s a certain degree of luck involved. If you have a bad year—boom! You’re at the bottom of the heap. And the reverse is also true, presumably.”
Izar smiled faintly. “And what would be wrong with that? Do you think that a society where status is based on an accident of birth makes more sense than a system where those who are most skilled at husbandry—or agriculture, or industry, or whatever—earn a privileged place?”
“I had no idea you were such a philosopher,” Kody said dryly.
“You brought it up.”
“I’m just trying to figure out what it takes for a clan that’s going through a bad patch—the Asis clan, say—to get out of it. Sounds like it could be pretty easy, in principle. Couldn’t someone just buy them a bunch of cows?”
“That might work. The Kennian Ladies’ Society of Benefactors, maybe.”
Kody rolled his eyes. “Very funny. Seriously, would that be enough to change their fortunes for a while?”
“I doubt it. Cows are a currency, so their value comes when they’re traded—as tribute to the more powerful clans, or as a bride price, that sort of thing. A clan that had its cows given to them for a single season might be able to move a little ways up the social ladder, but without a way of sustaining the herd size, it would not last.”
It made sense; a one-off gift could never replace a steady income. “So how does one sustain the herd size?”
“Skill, but mostly access to water and plentiful grazing. And that is bitterly contested.”
“The clans fight over it?”
“Sometimes, though not as much as they used to. A couple of hundred years ago, just about every conflict the Adali fought was over grazing land. Fortunately, the elders eventually came up with a more civilized way of carving up the beast.”
“And that is?”
“Every spring, there is a conference of all the major clans in Kigiri. It’s called the Orom. The migration routes for the season are decided there.”
“The Orom,” Kody repeated thoughtfully. The apothecary had mentioned something about an annual meeting of the clans. “How does it work?”
“It’s sort of like an auction. Clans buy the right to pass through the prime grazing lands. They pay in cattle, of course.”
“Who do they buy the rights from?”
“Each other.”
Kody frowned. “I don’t get it.”
“It’s a different concept of land ownership than we have in Braeland. Land is a collective good, owned by the people. So it isn’t bought and sold, exactly. It’s more like leasing, with the rights going to the highest bidder. In theory, title is only held for a single season. But the richest and most powerful clans always buy the rights to the best migration routes, those with fertile land and plentiful water. The same clans tend to buy the same routes year after year, because no one can outbid them. Every so often, though, a lower-ranking clan has a really good year, and a route changes hands. It’s an investment, because access to good grazing land strengthens the herd.”
“But if everybody owns the land, then who gets paid? I mean, say I give a thousand cows for a tract of land. Who gets the cows?”
“The people,” Izar said, as though it were obvious. “The payment is put into a pool, and at the end of the auction, the pool is divided amongst the poorest clans. That’s how we make sure that no one is completely destitute. It doesn’t end up being much once it’s split between a handful of clans, but it is enough to prevent the people from starving.”
“So . . . the cows that are paid for access to grazing routes go to charity?”
Izar shrugged. “That’s one way of thinking about it.”
“Huh.” Not a bad system, Kody thought. “Imagine if the rich folks of Kennian had to pay into a pot for the poor every year. Life would sure be different.”
“The Adali take care of their own, Kody. The people are a herd, and a herd must stay together to survive.”
“Then what happened to the Asis clan?”
Izar winced. “Like I said, the payment they get from the Orom isn’t much, and sometimes it is not enough. Things are hard for Adali everywhere, especially with the droughts these last couple of years. Even the richer clans are losing animals, which means they have less to pay into the pot, so there is less to go around. I guess the Asis have decided that staying put, even where they are not welcome, is better than taking their chances heading north.”
“But if somebody were to give the Asis enough cattle, they could trade for a good route next season.”
“Maybe, but what then? If they had to trade away most of their herd to get access to the land, what good would the land be? They would just be in the same place all over again the next season. It takes years to build up a herd.”
“Maybe the system isn’t so great after all,” Kody said sourly. “Seems to me that it all but guarantees that the powerful clans stay powerful, and the poor stay poor.”