“These hill-folk are ignorant, lord.” “These hill-folk are mine, Pym. Their ignorance is…a shame upon my house. Their continued ignorance anyway,” he amended in fairness. It still made a burden like a mountain. “Is this message so complex? So difficult? ‘You don’t have to kill your children anymore.’ It’s not like we’re asking them all to learn–5-space navigational math.” That had been the plague of Miles’s last Academy semester. “It’s not easy for them,” shrugged Dea. “It’s easy for the central authorities to make the […]
It’s a twisted poor world we were both born into, that rejects us without mercy and ejects us without consultation.
The Mountains of Mourning by Lois McMaster Bujold