contraction took place, some of the yellow-hats broke from the mass and headed off in one direction or the next.
“Perhaps we'll see whatever it is,” Letitia said. “I do hope it's a parade.”
Finn gave her a curious look. “I thought you didn't like parades.”
“I don't, ordinarily. I do like some kinds, though.”
“What kinds would that be?”
“I'm not really sure. The only one I've seen was theBowser Brigade. You remember, dear? They came through town on the way to the War?”
“Yes, I surely do.”
“They wore those lovely plaid and green uniforms, and the cute little hats with the tassels hanging down. I was so proud because they were Newlies, and didn't have to fight if they didn't want to.”
Letitia paused, and Finn saw the sudden touch of sadness in her eyes. “They didn't come back, as I recall. None except for two. I forgot about that.”
“No. I don't believe they did.”
Scarcely anyone does
, he said to himself. He remembered so many who had gone, and simply disappeared. Pikemen and bowmen, Balloon Grenadiers. A certain captain, he recalled, gone one day looking natty in his new uniform. Back the next as a Coldie, as a shade, no longer a man, scarcely a shadow, hardly a mist, barely aware that he was there.
Finn had thought a lot about it, and decided this was what the War was for: war gave people something to do—the rich and poor alike. Thus, there was always work for the vagrant, and the fools at court who liked the dashing costumes.
Not for the first time, Finn was grateful he'd come from good craftsman stock. Dying, from what he could see, was not a promising career.
Just as these scraps of wisdom were crossing his mind, someone in the crowd began to shout. One single voice, then another, and another after that, until the sound began to echo through the churning mass and swelled to an awesome, deafening roar.
Finn felt a chill touch the back of his neck. Something, or someone, was whipping this crowd into a fever, into an unthinking horde. He could almost taste the anger, the unfettered rage, and most frightening of all, the ugly side of joy, the dark anticipation of what they'd come for, what they'd come to see.
“I don't like this,” he said, quickly grasping Letitia's hand. “We're leaving, we shouldn't be here.”
“Yes, you're right,” Letitia said, her eyes now wide with primal fear. “I'm scared, Finn. And I don't even know what it is I'm scared to see.”
Finn turned to retrace their steps, to go back the way they'd come. He saw, at once, there was no place to go, no way through that solid terrifying wall. It would be worth their lives to even try.
“Hold on to me,” he said, “don't let go. And don't be frightened, my dear.”
Letitia looked at him. “Why not?
You
are.”
Finn had no answer to that.
“Look, look there,” Letitia said, her nails biting into his arm. “What—what on earth is that!”
Finn followed her glance. At first, he saw nothing at all. Then, at the far end of the square, he saw that the great mass had parted to form a narrow avenue. This action brought the crowd to sudden quiet. A thousand breaths were held; for an instant, a thousand hearts ceased to beat.
Then, through this passage came a throng of yellow-hatters—a dozen, a dozen more than that, then a hundred more, backwards, forwards, walking and stalking, hopping in every mad direction, bumping into houses, running into walls, crashing headlong into their own, knocking one another to the ground. Some got up, and some lay where they fell.
The crowd shrank back, scattered, tried to let them get by. Still, there were too many townsfolk, too many Newlies wandering about. When some hapless soul got in the way, a yellow-hat would explode into anger, beat that being senseless, and kick them to the ground. No one tried to defend themselves, and no one came to their aid.
“This is insanity,” Finn said, “This country is a—a damned asylum, is what it is, and someone's
“Perhaps we'll see whatever it is,” Letitia said. “I do hope it's a parade.”
Finn gave her a curious look. “I thought you didn't like parades.”
“I don't, ordinarily. I do like some kinds, though.”
“What kinds would that be?”
“I'm not really sure. The only one I've seen was theBowser Brigade. You remember, dear? They came through town on the way to the War?”
“Yes, I surely do.”
“They wore those lovely plaid and green uniforms, and the cute little hats with the tassels hanging down. I was so proud because they were Newlies, and didn't have to fight if they didn't want to.”
Letitia paused, and Finn saw the sudden touch of sadness in her eyes. “They didn't come back, as I recall. None except for two. I forgot about that.”
“No. I don't believe they did.”
Scarcely anyone does
, he said to himself. He remembered so many who had gone, and simply disappeared. Pikemen and bowmen, Balloon Grenadiers. A certain captain, he recalled, gone one day looking natty in his new uniform. Back the next as a Coldie, as a shade, no longer a man, scarcely a shadow, hardly a mist, barely aware that he was there.
Finn had thought a lot about it, and decided this was what the War was for: war gave people something to do—the rich and poor alike. Thus, there was always work for the vagrant, and the fools at court who liked the dashing costumes.
Not for the first time, Finn was grateful he'd come from good craftsman stock. Dying, from what he could see, was not a promising career.
Just as these scraps of wisdom were crossing his mind, someone in the crowd began to shout. One single voice, then another, and another after that, until the sound began to echo through the churning mass and swelled to an awesome, deafening roar.
Finn felt a chill touch the back of his neck. Something, or someone, was whipping this crowd into a fever, into an unthinking horde. He could almost taste the anger, the unfettered rage, and most frightening of all, the ugly side of joy, the dark anticipation of what they'd come for, what they'd come to see.
“I don't like this,” he said, quickly grasping Letitia's hand. “We're leaving, we shouldn't be here.”
“Yes, you're right,” Letitia said, her eyes now wide with primal fear. “I'm scared, Finn. And I don't even know what it is I'm scared to see.”
Finn turned to retrace their steps, to go back the way they'd come. He saw, at once, there was no place to go, no way through that solid terrifying wall. It would be worth their lives to even try.
“Hold on to me,” he said, “don't let go. And don't be frightened, my dear.”
Letitia looked at him. “Why not?
You
are.”
Finn had no answer to that.
“Look, look there,” Letitia said, her nails biting into his arm. “What—what on earth is that!”
Finn followed her glance. At first, he saw nothing at all. Then, at the far end of the square, he saw that the great mass had parted to form a narrow avenue. This action brought the crowd to sudden quiet. A thousand breaths were held; for an instant, a thousand hearts ceased to beat.
Then, through this passage came a throng of yellow-hatters—a dozen, a dozen more than that, then a hundred more, backwards, forwards, walking and stalking, hopping in every mad direction, bumping into houses, running into walls, crashing headlong into their own, knocking one another to the ground. Some got up, and some lay where they fell.
The crowd shrank back, scattered, tried to let them get by. Still, there were too many townsfolk, too many Newlies wandering about. When some hapless soul got in the way, a yellow-hat would explode into anger, beat that being senseless, and kick them to the ground. No one tried to defend themselves, and no one came to their aid.
“This is insanity,” Finn said, “This country is a—a damned asylum, is what it is, and someone's
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