‘It’s quite exciting, isn’t it, Reeth?’
‘You see this as very romantic, don’t you, Kutch?’ Caldason replied. ‘A bit of an adventure.’
‘Well, I suppose -’
‘It’s not. It’s about real people taking real risks and maybe dying because of it. It’s about somebody’s wife or brother or father being maimed, tortured or worse. Why don’t you tell the boy about that side of it, Karr?’
‘You, sir, are a cynic.’ The patrician said it with good humour, though he couldn’t keep a mild undercurrent of genuine criticism out of his voice. ‘It’s all those things, yes. People will be hurt, and die, and misery’s unavoidable. It’s a dangerous enterprise. But Kutch is right, too; it
is
an adventure. Probably the greatest we’ll ever see. As for romance, what grander than the romance of liberty?’
Caldason didn’t answer.
People were leaving, let out in ones and twos by the pokerfaced guards. Those who stayed were being shepherded into units by their minders. Goyter moved among them, urging, smoothing tempers, answering questions.
‘What now for us, Karr?’ the Qalochian finally asked.
‘One more task. Though I hope you won’t see it that way. I thought it was time you met those people I told you about earlier. The little band of escapees who washed up on our shore.
Ah.
’ He turned to the door.
There was a minor commotion there. A small group was being brought in, cloaked and hooded. Several of the newcomers were obviously seasoned Resistance members, acting as guides and protectors. Their charges were a man, two women and a pair of children. Even at first glance they seemed an oddly assorted bunch.
Diverse
, Reeth thought.
No one, least of all Caldason, knew everything was about to change.
20
The new arrivals rolled back their hoods and doffed their cloaks.
At least, the women did. Both of them shook loose their hair, releasing a cascade of blonde and raven locks. Caldason immediately recognised the brunette as a Qalochian. Such meetings were rare enough to mean something to him, and he thought she had the same feeling. The children, who proved to be a boy and a girl once unwrapped, and quite young, looked bone tired. They all did.
The man, on the short side and well-built, kept his cowl in place. There may have been a good reason for this, but all it did was arouse interest.
Caldason was intrigued by the prospect of meeting another Qalochian. He was curious about the man who remained hidden. But he had eyes only for Serrah Ardacris.
He instinctively knew another warrior, and would have even if Karr hadn’t already spoken about her. She had the effortless grace common to good dancers and good fighters – athletic, supple, light on her feet, with a muscular potency that didn’t submerge her femininity.
There was a certain comeliness, too, under the wear and tear. It was to do with strength. Caldason knew that when people spoke of character it was usually strength they meant, and this woman’s face was etched with it. She had a
presence
, a bearing that spoke of confidence shot through with wilfulness. And maybe a dash of something a little like insanity.
From across the room, she studied him in turn. A natural process when two people who live by violence recognise each other. Her gaze was unblinking, but not devoted exclusively to him. She constantly surveyed her surroundings and the people, seemingly relaxed but actually alert. It was the way of Caldason himself, though he was better at concealing it, having practised for so much longer.
Somebody released the lever and the cogwheels started up again.
‘This is not the place for a meeting,’ Karr shouted over the racket, ‘even if we are among our own. We need privacy.’ He gestured to Goyter. After a hasty, whispered consultation, he said to Reeth and Kutch, ‘One moment, please.’ Then he went to the newly-arrived group at the door.
Reeth glanced at Kutch. ‘Been a long day, hasn’t it? Lot to take in.’
The boy nodded.
‘Are you all right with it?’
‘Yes. Well, kind of. A bit overwhelmed. Knowing I might be a spotter, hearing the Resistance plan… finding out about
you
.’
‘After a flurry of events, things have a way of settling down.’
‘They never seem to when you’re around, Reeth.’
As Karr said something to the new arrivals, they all looked Caldason and Kutch’s way. What Reeth noticed most was the stare Serrah gave him. Proud, penetrating. That strength again.
Karr rejoined them, the fresh group in tow. ‘Come on, there’s somewhere we can go.’
Caldason and the boy fell in behind the newcomers and Karr led everybody to a small door on the far side of the room. He opened it and ushered them through, slamming it behind him at the last.
‘That’s better,’ he announced.
It was quieter, and cooler. They were in a storehouse; a long, low building with sacks and barrels piled along each side of a central aisle.
Glamour globes gave light here too, though there were fewer than in the mill, making it shadowy. Caldason quickly scouted, satisfying himself that they were alone.
‘I think you can remove the hood now, Kinsel,’ the patrician said.
The stocky man did so, revealing an amiable, neatly bearded face. ‘Thank goodness for that.’ His voice was bass and smooth. His open smile was genuine.
Karr returned it. ‘Time for introductions, I think.’ He gestured to the others. ‘Reeth Caldason, Kutch Pirathon.’
Kutch said hello. Caldason gave one of his small, almost indistinct nods.
Karr indicated the other group. ‘Serrah Ardacris, Tanalvah Lahn.’
Serrah said nothing, and remained perfectly still. Tanalvah smiled and greeted them, adding, ‘And this is Lirrin and Teg.’ The children clutched her hands and studied the floor.
‘Hello, kids,’ Kutch returned. He got a shy peek from the youngest.
‘And Kinsel Rukanis,’ Karr continued. ‘Who you may already be familiar with.’
‘Not me,’ Caldason stated bluntly.
Rukanis took no offence. ‘I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance.’
‘I know about you, Master Rukanis, sir,’ Kutch volunteered. ‘I saw a likeness of you once. I’ve never heard you sing, but people say you’re very good.’
‘Thank you, Kutch. I hope you’ll have the opportunity to hear me some time.’
‘Kinsel is one of the most respected and talented classical singers in the empire,’ Karr explained.
Rukanis tried waving away the compliment, cheeks colouring.
‘Oh, yes,’ Caldason said. ‘The pacifist.’
‘This isn’t exactly luxurious accommodation,’ Karr cut in, ‘but, please, sit down.’
Tanalvah perched on a crate, Teg in her arms, Lirrin beside her, holding Tanalvah’s dress and bashfully sucking a thumb. Kinsel lowered himself onto another crate nearby. Kutch choose a heap of plump sacks. The patrician settled for a barrel. Caldason and Serrah remained standing, eyeing each other.
‘So, how have things been for you?’ Karr asked the newcomers. He added, ‘It goes without saying, by the way, that everyone here is to be trusted, so we can speak freely,’
Serrah Ardacris took him at his word. ‘We’ve been dragged from pillar to post and back again,’ she informed him crisply. ‘How do you think we feel?’
‘Yes, my apologies.’ To Reeth and Kutch he explained, ‘It’s been necessary to keep our friends moving since they sought our help.’
‘It would be good to stop,’ Tanalvah said, glancing at the siblings, ‘for the children’s sake if nothing else.’
‘Of course. We have secure accommodation for you now. You’ll be going there soon and you can rest properly.’ He turned to Rukanis. ‘But your situation’s different, Kinsel, and we need to discuss it as a matter of urgency.’
‘Do they know the circumstances?’ the singer asked, nodding at Reeth and Kutch.
‘Some of it.’
‘I’ve been involved with the Resistance for seven years,’ Rukanis told them. ‘I won’t bore you with my reasons, though they’re simply enough expressed in terms of my beliefs about liberty and freedom. My creed, as you pointed out, Caldason, is one of non-violence. I don’t think that means I’m any the less useful to the cause. My profession involves a lot of travel, and access to certain echelons of authority, and that has been of benefit to the Resistance. Everything went smoothly until…’ He looked to Serrah. ‘I…