"Huh."  He nods.

"And... It's not just a question of sins against Abadar as if they were the same everywhere. It makes a difference, whether people live in a normal decent country, or in one that wants to make them all Evil and wants to hurt them while it does it.  It's not as if everyone's life in Taldor was good and just either, and I don't know much about what Infernal Cheliax was like, but... if half of what I've heard about it was true, of course it'd drive people to despair and crime and give them few better ideas for how to live, and I don't think it makes sense to blame them for it, if you think their country is awful enough that you needed to conquer it to make it stop."

"And this entire time the Andorens were sneaking into Cheliax, freeing slaves or helping other people get out.  I'm sure they stole plenty of horses while they were at it.  Why should it be all right when they did it, and not all right when someone in Cheliax did the same to get away from whatever awful thing was going on in his life?"

That was... too much emotion, he thinks, and even without that it would not be the kind of thing Ferrer would have more than a one-word reply to.  He half expects it to be incomprehensible enough to the man to be dismissed out of hand as Good nonsense.  But he needed to say it anyway.

"O'course she was right to do it an' we're all grateful,"  Ferrer says immediately, and then takes a few moments to consider the rest of what he said.  Eventually he ventures, "Pretty sure theft 's still illegal when it's Andorens doing it."

Marcus winces a little at the rote reply (because it's horrifying, but he's gotten used enough to Chelish people not to show his emotions so much), looks like he's going to say something, doesn't.  (If he tells Ferrer it would be all right to not think that, it will sound like he suspects Ferrer doesn't think that, and that conversation goes nowhere helpful.  He wonders what Iomedae would do about it. Something better than this, but he doesn't yet know what it is.)

"Right, but... the Andorens are some of the people who conquered Cheliax and are helping govern it now, aren't they? They're not going to suddenly start upholding the law about their own people who stole horses in Asmodean Cheliax, so I think they shouldn't uphold it about anyone else either."

... He is, perhaps, being a paladin.  "Of course they might do it anyway.  It's not as if it's hard to have a law that says it's okay if you do it but not if someone else does.  But that kind of thing will bother enough Good people that they might not."

Slow nod.  "S'pose it makes sense Good laws'd go like that.  Th'old Crown laws were- twisty."

"Yeah. You're not supposed to have twisty laws to make it easier to catch people in them, that's not fully Lawful the way I'm used to people thinking about it. Of course it still happens, but if you're taking all the laws and redoing them from scratch..."

"Huh."  Ferrer looks like something about that is thought-provoking, but he's evidently ventured as far on the subject of Law as he's willing to go.

After a while, he adds, "Folk say Old Taldor had twisty laws too- meanin' no offense, o'course."

A smile for Ferrer being brave enough to say these things.

"Oh, it did, and still does.  There's a reason I left."

Ferrer generally prefers to ride in silence, but doesn't mind being drawn out on less-fraught subjects;  Marcus can learn that he's never had real salmon but it's his favorite way to get his stew flavored when a wizard is in the mood for it (branzino is his favorite fish out of the ones he has eaten); that Artigas is the best commander out of all the ones he's served under because he's Lawful enough that holding the Wound is actually his first and only goal, and Wise enough to actually act like it, so if you don't fuck up you'll generally be fine;  that in his opinion the worst season isn't really the dead of winter, but that bit of spring when you just barely don't need Endures and everything is mud and unpredictable freezes and thaws; and as much fort gossip as he cares to hear.

Marcus tends to ask the wizard or his table companions for stew flavoring recommendations, and has to think for a moment to decide his favorite food is lamb stuffed with dates.  He's not sure who his favorite fort commander is (the one whose fort he's normally stationed at is notably absent from the list of possibilities), but he thinks he likes Ser Irabeth in Kenabres better than all of them.  His least favorite season is the early part of winter, because he doesn't mind the cold so much but he hates the dark.  He is endlessly interested in, and gradually learning to be less shocked by, Chelish fort gossip, but will let Ferrer do some riding in silence. 

At the next fort the guards first argue about something while their patrol waits in the cold, and then hurry through the verification procedures until Marcus feels bound to correct them, earning some very tired glaring. 

The Mendevian patrol they came this far with is heading back home from here, and might manage the two legs back before stopping for the night.  The current fort commander's reaction to the remaining party planning on continuing on toward Kenabres is "There's four of you? Great, you can be the next patrol while I figure out where to get the one after that.  Eat your stew and be out of here in twenty minutes."

Marcus (whose job it clearly is, to deal with this) does not look happy with the idea, but glances around the hall – the men are too few and too exhausted – and gives half a nod.  "Let me talk to my people, sir."

      "What d'you need to do that for?"  A sharp glare at the rest of the party.

"Learned Khalida is in command of," he not only cannot lie but cannot mislead, "her Chelish escort."  Turn away before the commander has a chance to get in an argument about that too, and give him enough of a respectful nod while doing it to avoid looking outright impertinent-- "Learned, do you think we can go on by ourselves?"

She chews her lip a moment, glances at him and Ferrer, and clearly makes the same calculation he just did.  "Lloris would mislike it were he here, but- better the four of us against a stunned demon than seven or eight against a live one?  If we've room for the horses in my channel especially."

He nods at the assessment.  "We do, I'd bet you there's not enough people in this entire fort right now to fill a channel radius."

He goes back to the commander, who's been scowling at them from he stairwell and looking on the verge of simply leaving, for all that their conversation took barely five sentences.  "We'll be out of your way as soon as we can, sir.  With a channel in the stables before we head out, if you want to announce it."

The man gives a short nod, not exactly placated but at least less annoyed, and makes the announcement. ("But don't drag your friends out of bed for it unless they should be getting up anyway. They need the sleep more.")

"Well, let's have our stew quick as we can."  It's worse stew than usual, but plenty of it.  Marcus looks around in concern as he eats.

Khalida prestidigitates her stew after a couple of bites and wordlessly offers it around to the rest of them.  (Ferrer picks salmon, Cambra wants apples-and-onions.)  

"Was it so bad when you came north?" she murmurs after a bit.

(Marcus can try salmon like Ferrer, why not.)

"Not this bad, but... one serious problem from it.  A lot of places are."

And now his stew can taste like salmon, although she hasn't picked up the trick of varying how much to flavor different parts of it yet and it still has the texture of mostly barley and unidentified dry greens.

She nods, and holds onto her little mask briefly with the hand that isn't busy eating stew, and doesn't say anything for a bit.

"May Hell be denied- um."

He-- holds back from supplying a better wording for a moment, with a faintly encouraging look, to see if the men think of something else themselves. It would be good for them.

(Marcus can read Ferrer well enough by now to tell that the look he's giving Cambra is also a subtly encouraging one.)

"May Heaven- be granted another soldier, I mean."

A solemn nod, and then the words he's used to: "May the dead see Paradise, and the living in their turn."

A few quick spoonfuls of stew, because they do not have time to waste, but he's clearly thinking. 

"How urgently do you need to be back?  We could stay here a few days, help with the patrol schedule, hope it's enough for them to get back on their feet."  One patrol group is not much, but it's something.  And just knowing someone cares enough to help is something too.

"I don't-  I-"  Khalida pushes some stew around the edge of her bowl.  

"I'm a third the total channels of a length of seven forts.  And without considering the way across the northern front back."

"Of course you're right.  I'm sorry."  He does sound it.  

It's easy to get the impression that the Chelish forts are doing better than the ones here – likely they are, on most measures – but with that little healing, things could go downhill so much more quickly.  She's right that they cannot let that happen, however overstretched Mendev is.

Unhappy nod. 

"I'm not the only healer, many wizards there know Infernal Healing, but, um, it's not agreed whether it's yet legal-"

-and no one is sure, even if it's currently legal, whether it'll continue to be; and her fellow wizards are pushing themselves deeper into Evil to give the others time to struggle out; and it takes a spell slot that competes with Endures, which you need every day and you only might need a heal and don't know how many....

"... I want to know what that is and why it might or might not be legal, but we should eat first and talk on our way."