“Always,” the burly man replied, teeth flashing in a brief grin that held no humour.
“What kind?” Girard asked, in that same tone.
The dark-haired man frowned at Girard. “Are you making fun?” The sharp suspicion in his voice made Hallie wonder if a lot of people teased him. He didn’t seem to be particularly quick-witted, but he did seem very stubborn. That was probably a useful quality to have in a gate guard.
“No. Not at all. I’m trying to get information. So, what kind of trouble do you get here?”
The man grunted. “Trouble from Jonah, the governor.” He seemed to think that was enough explanation and, perhaps thinking he’d got as much as possible, Girard didn’t ask him anything else.
The silence weighed and dragged on, but gave Hallie an excellent opportunity to have a closer look around. A short distance along the dirt road in front of them she could see that she had been right about the water wells. The air carried the scent of the sea, and of the wild forest that wasn’t all that far away. If she’d been human she wouldn’t have noticed the underlying trace of unwashed bodies and waste. The nearby houses had thatched roofs and walls seemingly made of mud plaster. Modest homes with small garden plots that spoke of working families. She could imagine that if the residents all had to fetch water from a well, having a bath was a luxury rather than an everyday matter. After over a day wearing the same clothes, she would welcome a bath, trying to ignore the phantom itch across her skin at the thought of being clean. She’d gone longer stretches without a shower before now, but she never enjoyed it.
“Have you lived here long?” she asked the dark-haired man, partly because she was interested and partly to distract herself from the thought of a hot shower and plenty of soap.
He scowled at her with the same deep suspicion he’d shown to Girard and for a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer,then his shoulders moved in a small shrug. “Four years, more or less.”
“And do you like it here?” she asked.
“Well enough,” he told her, a hint of anger in his voice. “It might not be fancy, but it’s ours.”
“That makes sense,” Hallie said, feeling something was needed.
He scowled more heavily at her as if trying to work out whether she was sincere, or if he should be offended.
While the leader was making up his mind, one of the other men spoke up. “It’s a dump. There’s no net, no television, and the food is rubbish.”
Hallie took a closer look at him and wondered if she’d over-estimated his age. He sounded like a surly younger teen and not the twenty-something young man she’d initially assumed. He was quite short and too thin for his broad shoulders, sullen expression topped by greasy dark hair that had been chopped rather than cut. Under the faint smudges of dirt on his face she could see that he was, indeed, young. Too young to be carrying the weapon he had, in her judgement, even though he would have been the right age to be initiated into one of low city’s street gangs. He wouldn’t have dared to complain about the living conditions there, though. The senior gang members would have given him a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget.
Here on Paradise, the older man just grunted in what might have been agreement and didn’t correct the junior for complaining.
“Yeah. As soon as I’m old enough, I’m leaving,” the final guard said. He was a skinny boy, standing head and shoulders taller than the other two guards, with long limbs and a shock of yellow hair that stood up in all directions. His paler than pale skin was mottled with freckles, long face set in a similarly sulky expression to the dark-haired boy.
“Who would take you?” the dark-haired boy taunted.
“I’ll get more offers than you will,” yellow-hair snapped back.
“Enough,” the burly man said, the tone of weariness in his voice suggesting that he had to break up arguments all-too-often during the day. He looked over Girard again. “Learning anything?”
The sly question made Hallie re-assess the man’s intelligence and revise it upwards. A little, at least.
“That’s what I’m here for,” Girard answered easily.
Quick movement further down the road drew Hallie’s attention and she watched as a man came running towards them. As he came closer, Hallie recognised the young guard that had been sent off to give word to Master Nicholas. He was still carrying his gun, the weapon waving around as he circled his arms while running. She thought it was something of a miracle that he hadn’t shot himself.
He stumbled to a halt a few paces away, breath coming in gasps.
“Well?” the dark-haired man demanded.
“Master Nicholas says to take the investigator to his house. He’ll meet him there,” the guard said, words punctuated by gasps for air.
“What about the women?” the burly man asked.
“Didn’t say,” the guard answered. The way he said it made Hallie wonder if he’d mentioned her and Rhodda’s presence at all.
“You,” the burly man said, pointing to Hallie then Rhodda. “Go to the town hall. Master Nicholas will decide what to do with you from there.”
“You don’t get to order me about,” Rhodda said, chin lifting. “Where are the others from Reunion?”
“In the town hall,” the man answered, teeth flashing in a snarl. “So, get on with you.”
