‘It wasn’t just greed for our space,’ Caldason told him. ‘Look around you, Bhealfa has room to spare.’ His manner had begun to be brooding.
’What else would you attach the bigotry to?’
‘Our independence. There’s little taste for those who don’t conform. The fact that we’re a warrior race doesn’t sit comfortably either. The first thing put into our hand when we enter this world is a sword. Our ideal is to leave it holding one.’ What might have been a wistful glow briefly mellowed the hardness in his eyes. ‘But if you want to know the real reason we’re shunned, it’s simply because we’re different.’
‘People who hate you for that must be stupid,’ Kutch decided.
‘Never underestimate an enemy. Often it’s not brains they lack, it’s scruples.’
‘Well said,’ Karr offered.
For the past few hours they had been travelling through a landscape of abundant trees and foliage. Now the terrain grew sparser. Ahead, the road forked, with a rougher track going towards the west.
‘Turn here,’ Karr instructed.
Caldason frowned. ‘Why?’
‘Just a small diversion.’
‘I thought you were in a hurry to get back.’
‘I am. But we’re still at least two days from Valdarr. We need water and provisions, and we can get them not far from here.’
‘How far?’
‘A couple of hours at most. Besides, there’s something I want you to see.’
‘I’m not keen on surprises, Patrician.’
‘You might find this one enlightening. Trust me, there won’t be much of a delay.’
Caldason said nothing and made the turn.
The road they followed was potholed and overgrown with weeds. On either side the country was more scrub than grassland.
Above an hour later they came to the beginnings of a moor. There were clumps of heather and outcroppings of bleached rock, choked by moss. The few trees were infirm and skeletal. Distant stretches of marsh glistened in the frail sunlight, and the smell of rotting vegetation was in the air.
As they topped a low hill, Kutch remarked, ‘This is a godsfor-xsaken place.’
‘A location nobody else wanted,’ Karr agreed. ‘It was all they could find.’
‘Who?’ Caldason said.
Karr pointed. ‘You’re about to find out.’
They were coming to a small, shallow valley, housing a modest cluster of buildings. These conformed to no single style of architecture; a ramshackle appearance was all most of them had in common. Alongside the shacks, lodges and barns there were several thatched round houses, not that different to those Reeth had grown up in.
The settlement, or whatever it was, had no protective walls, ditches or watchtowers. People could be seen; carrying loads, leading animals, conversing in groups.
Karr knelt in the back of the wagon, watching over the others’ shoulders. ‘Pull up. There’re one or two things you should know before we get there.’
The horses came to a ponderous halt, tails swishing, as Caldason tugged on the reins. ‘What’s going on, Karr?’ he demanded.
‘That’s the Broliad commune, or what’s left of it. Named for its late founder, who set it up a decade ago. He was a nonconformist too, Reeth, who persuaded a number of like-minded people to join him. They were a motley bunch, but shared a passion to be free of state interference. Commonly, they’re known as the Disobedients.’
‘I’ve heard of them,’ Kutch said. ‘Aren’t they pacifists or something?’
‘Mostly. They’ve tried to oppose imperial domination by non-violent means, and by living as divorced from authority as they can. It’s been pretty tough for them.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ Caldason remarked, gazing down at the commune, ‘if they insist on making themselves sitting ducks out here and refusing to fight.’
‘Quite so.’ Karr paused and added, ‘I realise this is going to be hard for you.’
‘No, I can respect a peace-loving man who has the guts to stand by his beliefs.’
‘Very commendable. But that wasn’t what I meant.’
‘What did you mean?’
‘This is a
pacifist
co-operative, Reeth. That means no weapons. Visitors have to surrender their arms on entering. No exceptions.’
From Caldason’s expression, Kutch thought he was going to strike the patrician.
Instead, he rumbled, ‘Forget it. Asking a Qalochian to give up his weapons is like…’ He struggled for a comparison.
‘So cheat,’ Karr suggested.
‘That’s the politician speaking, is it?’
‘It’s common sense. Give up your more obvious weapons but keep something concealed, if you must. Though going armed down there is about as necessary as carrying an axe to defend yourself against a basketful of kittens.’
‘They’ll take my word that I have no hidden weapons?’
‘No. But they’ll take mine. They know me.’
‘And you don’t think that’s a betrayal of their trust?’
‘If you don’t use your weapons it can’t be, can it?’ Before Caldason could reply, Karr turned to Kutch. ‘And you can wipe that smirk off your face, young man. They don’t allow magic either.’
To Kutch, this was much more shocking than a weapons ban. ‘No magic?
None?
How can they function?’
‘They have some sense after all, it seems,’ Caldason muttered.
‘I thought that would interest you,’ Karr said. ‘The fact is they don’t permit either of the things you pair are wedded to. Live with it, just for a while.’
Caldason gave a resigned sigh and drew a knife. ‘What are we doing here anyway?’ he wanted to know, slipping it into his boot.
‘As I said, I’m acquainted with some of the communards. It was always my aim to connect with them when I came to see Grentor. I have one or two matters to discuss with them. They’ll let us have victuals for the rest of our journey, in exchange for a modest swelling of their coffers, and you get to see one way people resist.’
‘I’ve seen plenty of resistance, most of it futile.’
‘I’m not saying you’ll find anything more effective in Broliad. But I’m honour-bound to meet with these people, and I’d appreciate you both being with me.’
‘
I’d
like to see the place,’ Kutch said.
‘You’ve not left us a great deal of choice, Patrician,’ Reeth put in.
‘You could walk away. Or ride away, with the wagon and team. You’re Reeth Caldason, after all. I would have thought an outlaw capable of such a thing.’
Caldason stiffened, his neck and arm muscles visibly knotting. ‘Ready?’ Without waiting for an answer he slapped the reins smartly across the horses’ hinds.
They rattled down the slope in silence.
When they reached the settlement, people came out to meet them. They were dressed plainly in homespun greys and browns. There were roughly equal numbers of men and women, upwards of two score perhaps, and around a dozen children. A small menagerie of unfettered dogs, goats and fowl accompanied them.
Karr’s claim that he knew the communards was borne out by the warm welcome they gave him. There was much in the way of hand-shaking, back-slapping and hugs. Reeth and Kutch were introduced only as friends; Karr withheld their names. The greeting they got was naturally less demonstrative than his, but seemed as open. And although Reeth’s light olive cast and slightly angular facial bone structure testified to his birthright, no one showed any hostility at having a Qalochian in their midst.
Having handed over his pair of daggers, Karr turned to Reeth. ‘You must give up your weapons,’ he told him.
Caldason bit down and unbuckled his swords, then took a sheathed knife from his belt. He dumped them into the outstretched arms of a waiting Disobedient. The man went off with them, smiling. Caldason glowered.
‘I have business to discuss with our hosts,’ Karr announced, nodding towards a particular group of communards. They were dressed as humbly as the others, and beyond the fact that they stood apart there was nothing to indicate they might have any authority. ‘It shouldn’t take long. In the meantime, they say you’re welcome to go where you please in the commune. Rest, eat, refresh yourselves. I’ll join you later.’