“Alright. I’ll head there and see how they are,” Rhodda said, her tone making it clear that it was her decision and not because she’d been told to go there. She glanced at Hallie then at Girard.
“If you’re sure?” Girard asked Rhodda. The other woman nodded once. She didn’t seem worried or alarmed, as far as Hallie could tell. “Very well. But Miss Talbot will come with me,” Girard said to the guards, voice leaving no room for argument.
“That’s not what the master said,” the man argued.
“Well, he is not my master,” Girard said, in a matter-of-fact way. “Which way?”
“I’ll take you,” the breathless guard said.
Rhodda nodded to Hallie and Girard and then turned on her heel, walking off along the road ahead of them as if she knew exactly where she was going. And of course she did, Hallie reminded herself. This had been Rhodda’s home for some time before she and others had moved out to start Reunion. All the same, Hallie watched Rhodda walk away with an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. The other woman had been genuinely frightened more than once, and Hallie knew that some of what she was worried about rested here, in New Hope. Hallie wished that there had been more time to get information from the other woman, and that Rhodda had been more generous with what she had shared. Right now, Hallie had the feeling of seeing only a tiny part of a large and complicated picture and couldn’t help wonder what she and Girard would discover the more they explored this strange place.
Chapter fifteen
“Thisway.”Theguard’sinstruction snapped Hallie’s attention back to him. He’d got some of his breath back. He had mid-brown, warm-toned skin and close-cropped black hair, his clothes at least one size too big for him, covered in patch repairs. He was still holding the gun, muzzle pointed at the ground. At least he wasn’t waving it around as he had been when he’d been running.
Relieved to be heading away from the group of armed men, with a lingering worry about Rhodda, Hallie fell into step beside Girard and followed the young man.
Rather than taking them straight on, along the road Rhodda was walking, which Hallie assumed led to the centre of the settlement, the guide turned to the right and headed up a gentle slope on a dirt road that started off more or less following the line of the wall.
There were houses on the other side of the road as they made their way up the hill. Small dwellings, no more than two orthree rooms, Hallie guessed, with small patches of land staked out around them, bounded by crude fences made up of branches and what looked like rope made out of twigs and leaves. Like the houses near the gates, these were basic structures, with walls that looked like they were made of mud, and heavy roofs of thatch. Despite the primitive construction, they seemed well-made, and Hallie thought they were probably water-tight, at least. The patches of land around the houses had been laid out as vegetable plots, with very few plants growing at this time of year. This late in winter there was almost no colour, so the houses and their plots of land were various shades of brown. The whole effect was dull and cheerless. All the same, it was clear that a lot of effort had gone into the buildings and plots of land. Not least in making a flat footprint for each building against the gentle curve of the land. And, judging by the size of the vegetable plots, Hallie guessed that the households would be able to grow a decent amount of their own food.
As they walked, she also realised that there was none of the heavy stillness and quiet that she’d felt in Reunion. The street felt somehow welcoming, as if she could go up to one of the doors, knock, and find someone inside who wouldn’t turn her away.
Then the guide turned a corner and the ground flattened out and Hallie was confronted with a very different street of buildings. These were the larger, finer houses she’d seen on their approach. Each house had far more land than the modest cottages they’d just passed, each plot carefully surrounded by a wooden fence or brick wall. The buildings were at least two storeys high and made of brick with basic tile roofs. Some of the houses also had brick paths leading to their front doors rather than a continuation of the mud and dirt road. As well as the reddish colours of the bricks, some of the window trims and doors were painted in bright shades, giving a far more cheerfulair than the last street. There was also glass in the window frames, and the plots of land contained not just vegetable gardens but also small structures that looked like chicken coops.
In contrast to the humbler street they had just walked along, this one felt somehow unfriendly, as though everyone who lived in the houses was busy being busy. Hallie was not sure of a warm welcome - or any kind of a welcome - here.
The guide led them to the second house along, which had a high red brick wall around its land, and a brick path leading from the dirt road to the house’s vivid blue front door. The trim around the windows had also been painted the same blue.
The whole effect of the walled-off space and larger building reminded Hallie of ahochlenresidence, or, rather, a poor approximation of one. There were some larger properties in low city as it had been a thriving place once. But they had grown out of humble origins, whereas she thought this house had been built with the purpose of being impressive.
If she hadn’t seenhochlenresidences up close, and indeed been inside a few, Hallie might have been impressed with the house. As it was, she couldn’t help but notice that whoever had done the construction hadn’t been as skilled as they needed to be. There were odd gaps around the windows which had been filled in with mortar and the door wasn’t quite straight. The modest cottages that they’d just walked past had been built with more care and, Hallie thought, would most likely stand for longer. But whoever had ordered this house be built had wanted to impress. They hadn’t been interested in how long it would survive.
Around the side of the house, she caught sight of a stone well and what might have been a bathhouse. On the other side of the house she saw what looked like an outhouse. So even this finer building didn’t have indoor plumbing.
Their guide hammered his fist on the door and took a step back, waiting with every sign of impatience.
The summons was answered after a moment by a harassed-looking woman with greasy brown hair gathered in a knot at the back of her head, her plain clothing spattered with flour, cheeks flushed a hectic colour against her pale skin.
“What do you want?” she demanded. Hallie was sourly amused to realise she had been right about the warmth of greeting she could expect from the finer houses.
“Master Nicholas said to bring the Conclave Investigator here,” the guide said, waving his hand in Girard’s direction. It happened to be the hand holding the gun and Hallie saw Girard twitch, no doubt wanting to peel the weapon out of the young man’s hand before it went off accidentally, as she fought the same impulse.
“Master Nicholas said?” the woman repeated, blinking as if astonished. Her eyes travelled past the guide and stopped on Girard for a moment, then travelled on to Hallie. “I don’t have time for your jokes.”
“No joke. He said to bring him here. Master Nicholas is on his way,” the guide said, chest puffing up with indignation and self-importance.
“Oh, he is, is he?” the woman looked like she was about to explode with fury. “Brings visitors in without so much as a word of notice, does he?”
“Ma’am, we don’t want to put you to any trouble,” Girard said. “We will wait outside for, er, Master Nicholas, if that’s easier.”
“Oh, well, someone’s got some manners, I see,” the woman said, colour deepening in her face. “Haven’t had any of those around for a while. No, you come in and I’ll get you some tea while you wait. Not you,” she added to the guide, as he tried to come in the door along with Girard and Hallie. “Haven’t you got work?”
Hallie bit her lip to hide a smile as she followed Girard into the house and had to bite her lip again when the woman shut the door in the guide’s face.
They were in a small entrance hall, with a staircase leading up ahead of them, the opening of a corridor next to the stairs and rooms leading off either side.
“Come in, do come in,” the woman said, wiping her hands on her apron and leading them into one of the rooms. It turned out to be a formal sitting room complete with a pair of red velvet sofas facing each other over a low, highly polished wooden table. There was a fireplace at one side of the room and the walls were painted a pale blue, with drapes around the window in the same colour. It was the sort of furnishing and décor that belonged in a high-class home.
