The letter from Alpha Caden of the Ironwood Pack arrived on a Wednesday.
Theron read it at breakfast and set it down without expression, which meant it was bad. I'd learned to read his silences the way I'd learned to read everything else about him — by paying attention until the pattern became obvious.
"What does it say?" I asked.
"Tribute demand." He slid it across the island to me. "Third one this year. He's been testing borders since his eastern alliance collapsed."
I picked it up and read it.
The language was formal but the meaning was clear. Ironwood wanted fifteen percent of Silver Crescent's eastern grain surplus. In exchange, they'd guarantee safe passage through their northern trade routes. It was dressed up as partnership.
It was a shakedown.
"How much does the northern ro
