Followingthedirectionsfromthe surly gunners, Hallie thought that she was heading for the centre of New Hope, or at least closer to the sea as she caught glimpses of the vast expanse of water as they walked. Even though she was used to having the sea as a backdrop to her daily life, it was disorienting to catch sight of the water here and not be surrounded by the familiar crowded streets of low city, or the familiar scents of coffee or fried food from the street vendors, or the chatter from market stall holders, or just people going about their daily business. There was far more space around her here, and it was far quieter than she would have expected.
As they walked, Hallie took a good look around, not caring too much if the gunners noticed her interest. Despite the circumstances, she was trying to take in everything.
A short distance from Nicholas Rigg’s house, the packed earth path underfoot changed, becoming a dirt road with two rows of paving slabs running along the length of it, set at a distancewide enough to carry a vehicle, suggesting that at some point the settlers in New Hope had had the idea of making roads and had at least made a start laying down tracks for a vehicle rather than having the roads churned up. The buildings changed. The ones on either side of the partially paved road were sturdy structures, with what looked like one or two rooms on an upper level and some kind of workspace below. Hallie recognised a bakery, a tailor’s shop, and what she thought was a green grocer. Small businesses, with the owners and family living above the shop, she guessed, fascinated by the contrasts in the buildings she’d seen through the settlement. The businesses mostly had their doors open, letting her catch little glimpses inside. And letting the people there look out, too. She caught a few people turning their heads, clearly curious about the group walking outside. The heads were turned away quickly, shoulders hunched, as if the people didn’t want to attract the attention of the gunners.
There were a few people on the street, too. All dressed in similar plain, homespun clothing that had seen better days and all having that same reaction of looking around to see what was happening, then turning away, bodies stiff, shoulders rounded. Not wanting to be noticed. It was a sharp contrast to the confident strides of the gunners and gave Hallie a good idea of what kind of treatment the people normally received from the gunners.
A middle-aged couple walked past, huddled against the wall of a building to avoid getting too close to the gunners, their arms linked together. Despite their close connection, Hallie could see the lines of strain and tiredness on their faces and the stoop of their shoulders. The couple might be on an island called Paradise and living in a settlement called New Hope, but she suspected they’d found nothing but hard work since they’d got here. With no established commerce, or regular trade with other places, the settlers here would be almost completely reliant onwhat they could make or produce themselves. And Hallie had some idea - thanks to working with her father in the family garden - of just how much work was needed to grow food. She had a moment’s sympathy for all the people who must have come here, wanting to escapehochlenrule, only to find that they’d swapped their restricted and confined lives for constant labour to just get through every day. It doubtless worked well for Nicholas Rigg, who had at least one servant in his large and comfortable house to keep it running, and gunners at his disposal. But most of the people here would be like that couple - relying on their own efforts and quickly worn down. She wondered how many of the settlement residents were hoping to leave, to go back to their old lives, or how many of them felt they were trapped here, not able or not wanting to return to whatever they had left behind.
And she wondered, too, if this was how low city had started off, centuries before, as an odd collection of buildings with worn-out inhabitants just trying to survive. Her city’s original settlement had grown and expanded with no kind of order or overall design into the chaos that Hallie had grown up with, and she wondered how long it would take New Hope to get to that state, or indeed if it ever would. Her city had prospered in large part because of thehochlenwho ruled the land, and who often required the services of the common folk, providing jobs and trading connections with the rest of the world. But there were nohochlenhere.
And, in contrast to what she’d seen of Reunion, there seemed to be no community or common interest in some of the large-scale works that would be needed to let the settlement flourish. Boring but necessary things like running water and electricity, which every resident of low city took for granted. The settlers might have built the wall around New Hope, and formed the roads, but seemed to have stopped there. Hallie wondered what had changed to break apart that cooperation, or whathad inspired it in the first place. Many of the residents clearly possessed some building and crafting skills, based on some of the houses she’d seen, and the row of business premises. It was another puzzle to add to all the questions piling up in her mind.
Unease crept through Hallie. There was something wrong here. Humans had first settled on Paradise about two decades before. All the settlers would have grown up with modern technology, and yet New Hope was apparently still relying on well water, had no electricity and a supposed leader who didn’t seem all that interested in the welfare of the people.
This was supposed to be a haven for those looking to be free ofhochlenrule. Hallie had a great deal of sympathy for that ambition. She’d seen some of the darker effects of the elite’s power and carelessness. It felt right to her that there was somewhere in the world that wasn’t ruled byhochlen. But so far she wasn’t sure Nicholas Rigg’s version of that was any better thanhochlenrule. In fact, it was almost as if he was trying to copy the elite with his large, luxurious house and servant while everyone else struggled. She couldn’t imagine that was what the original settlers of Paradise, or the people who had come to the island over the years, had been looking for. And while some of them had left to set up Reunion, Rhodda had said it had only been a handful of people. The majority had stayed here, in New Hope. Hallie wanted to know what had happened to bring the people to this point. Not just for the Conclave, but for her own curiosity.
The buildings fell away but the road kept going or, rather, widened into what Hallie thought might be an attempt at a market square. Low city had its fair share of markets, and she could easily imagine the space in front of her crowded with stalls and shoppers. Right now, there were no market stalls, just an empty space with only a few people, walking with purpose in one direction or another.
At the far side of the square was a squat building, at least two storeys high, with double doors thrown open to let passers by catch a glimpse of the interior. It was built of brick, the roof tiled, standing out from the other buildings not just for the space around it but also because some effort had been spent trying to make it decorative as well as functional, with stone columns on either side of the door.
There were two armed men outside the door of the building. The guards came forward to meet Hallie’s group, exchanging a few greetings with the gunners who had weapons pointed at her and Girard.
“Principal wants this pair kept with the others until he’s made arrangements for them.” The gunner who spoke was the same one who’d taken Hallie and Girard’s weapons and received orders from Nicholas.
The two men who’d been on guard duty at the doors cast their eyes over Hallie and Girard, and looked unimpressed.
“Why?” one of them asked.
“Orders,” the gunner answered, voice terse. “Now, do what you’re told.”
Not a happy working relationship, Hallie thought. She was distracted by one of the gunners around her prodding their shotgun into her back again, urging her forward, towards the building.
There were times to resist and fight, but right now was not one of them. There were far too many weapons around her and Girard. Too many people to defeat without risking serious injury - or worse. And no one had thought to put restraints on them, which was one point in their favour for a later escape. So she walked forward, staying shoulder to shoulder with Girard through the open doors of the town hall.
The doorway opened into a large room which seemed both crowded and empty at the same time. There were long tablesalong either side of the space, with a few people sitting at each, on three-legged stools or benches, some of the people cradling a mug or cup between their hands. All the people had an air about them of having been on the losing side of some battle or another, even though she couldn’t see physical wounds on any of them. Their heads were down, shoulders bowed, deep shadows of exhaustion on their faces. It was a far deeper weariness than she’d seen on the middle-aged couple in the street. The couple outside had been walking with quiet determination. The people in here looked as though they were about to give up entirely.
As well as the hopelessness of the people in the room, the other thing Hallie noticed was the temperature. With the front doors standing open, there would have been a draft anyway, but the room was barely warmer than the outdoors. There were two fireplaces - one on either side of the room - but they were both dark and empty.
Even as she registered the temperature of the room, the doors began to close, moving silently on their hinges, then meeting with a dull thud followed by what sounded like a bar being placed across the outside, securing the building, meaning no one would be able to leave.
The unease she’d felt walking through the streets, at the primitive conditions and the fear of the people at the sight of the gunners, returned in full force.
In the gloomy room, lit only by a series of small windows high in the walls, a few heads lifted, faces turning towards her and Girard, and the breath caught in her throat at the expressions she saw. Defeat. Fear. Resignation. As if they were used to more punishment coming through the door. As dark-shadowed eyes travelled over her and Girard she saw a few faint sparks of curiosity, but most people just turned back to staring at the table in front of them.
The only anomaly in the room was Rhodda, sitting at the far end of one of the tables, across from a grey-haired man. It contrast to the stillness and exhaustion of the rest of the room, Rhodda’s back was straight, and it looked like the two were engaged in a fierce argument. As the man lifted his head and looked over at Hallie and Girard, Rhodda turned as well, eyes widening slightly before she raised a hand, beckoning them over.
By mutual, silent agreement, Hallie and Girard crossed the room to stand at the end of the table between Rhodda and the grey-haired man.
“You’ve been in a fight,” Rhodda commented, eyes moving between Hallie and Girard.
“Little bit, yes,” Hallie answered. “Nicholas set his men on us.”
“And you got away?” Rhodda asked, astonished.
“Not really,” Hallie said, tilting her head towards the door. “We were brought here. It seems Nicholas wants a bit of time to think about how to dispose of us.”
“You seem very calm about it.” That was the man sitting opposite Rhodda. He wasn’t grey-haired, as Hallie had first thought. His once-pale skin had been tanned from outdoor work, which had also bleached his fair hair until it was almost white, pale blue eyes surrounded by lines and purple shadows from exhaustion. He looked to be about the same age as Rhodda, and a little taller, although it was hard to tell with him sitting down. He was hunched over as if every bone in his body hurt.
