With another real breakfast inside him and a fresh batch of Exian-style trinkets in his pocket, Hyran headed for the north end of town again. Butterflies fluttered, disturbing said breakfast— would he find another set of troops surrounding another set of protesters?
But as he reached the northernmost lift, he could see below that there was (as yet) no reason to be worried. Nine Vle, three of them women, stood on the road below, looking about. By the time he joined them, two more were approaching.
Hyran introduced himself to all before giving his spirit speech. "I thank you for being here this morning. Now, some of you may be worried about the risk of being arrested for treason. I assure you that this is not treason, but I'll be honest— there is no guarantee we won't be arrested. WE are here to be loud, and to be heard, and to be noticed. How else are we to get the King's attention? He must be made aware of his error! And we are going to tell him!"
The small crowd gave a hurrah, and all turned north with a spirited step. Town after town. Along the way, Hyran explained what to do in each town.
"We'll split up, and go into all the inns and pubs. Talk to the bartender or whoever might listen to you. The more open a person is, the better. You might not actually recruit that person, but anyone in earshot will know of our plans. Now, I caution you: Do not just start with an explanation of our intentions. Find an angle. Look for some discontent with the way things are. Then bring them into the fold, almost as if we're a big secret. BUT the more people hear of it, the less they'll want it to stay a secret! We want to be open, so encourage the spreading of the news."
"But what if someone doesn't like what we're saying?" asked one, who was slight and graying with age. Hyran guessed him to be about 90 years old.
"Then apologize and move away. There's no sense in getting hurt, and there are other people to talk to. Still, we never know who we might meet, do we? This is a dangerous business.
"But necessary."
The next town was equally ‘productive.' With the help of the protesters, the town was covered fairly quickly. And they were anxious, too- one of the women asked him, "So, when do we move on to the next town?"
"Tomorrow."
"Why not today? Shouldn't we move as fast as possible?"
"No. For one thing, moving faster would probably alert the authorities faster. We want to get to the palace, or as near as possible, before that happens. Plus, half our complaint is that this rounding-up now apparently extends to dark Vle. It makes sense to not move too far ahead of them, so that we have proof when the time comes."
The next morning, Hyran had a pleasant surprise: Among the 41 Vle gathered, five wore the robes of Redemption clergy, including a (ex?)monk! With gusto, he introduced himself, and watched the clergymen's expression. He delighted in their surprise and recognition... until he chided himself for losing his modesty. Oh Great Master, please deliver me through this time of trial, so that I may once again return to the ideals you have laid out for us!, he prayed.
Then, with flourish, he stepped north, the pack of protesters behind him.
They hit three more towns before trouble caught up with them. One morning, Hyran was dismayed to see about 2/3 of the now 67 protesters surrounded by troops. Hyran knew the pattern (arrive in town, announce the morning gathering openly, meet on the north end of town at daybreak) was a bit of a problem. But this time, he didn't hide and watch. He knew a number of the protesters were still up on deck, so he merely stood by the lift, and caught the faces he knew. Those others were able to catch some of the recruits from the day before.
"The risk we take," Hyran announced. "The risk we live with, for the privilege of delivering our message. The King either doesn't know about this, or he doesn't care about his own people. My friends, our mission's importance increases with each arrest! Now, I caution you: Let us not make it obvious that we are in any way connected with those being marched north, lest our movement die. Let us march forth!"
Even as the arrested were being marched north, the remaining third filed onto lifts to begin their journey. It took a league to catch up with and pass the march, because the spirits of those arrested were still high, but the passing went without a hitch.
The crusade went on.
By the time they reached the gates of Dronac, Hyran's group once again numbered in the sixties. Understandably, the gatekeepers seemed a bit concerned as they passed through under their watchful eyes.
Hyran couldn't help but gape with the others. No less than 20 trees, with as many as eight levels each, made up the capital city. Hyran was anxious to get up and examine the architecture. "Let's spilt up here," he suggested. "Take a different lift, so we're not all waiting for one lift. Spread throughout, and do the same as always. We'll meet on the palace observation platform, lowest level, unless you hear from me otherwise. Good luck!"
His heart pounded as he stepped onto the lift nearest him. Security would be tight here, but this was also where they could make the biggest splash for the King to see. Would they be allowed to splash the next morning?
To his gratification, there was a map of the lowest level next to the lift landing. He studied it for a while, marveling at its complexity. He looked around, wondering at the differences between the architecture here and back in Kelwome. (His heart panged with that thought.) Here, the structures had darkened with age, and were considerably rougher, less finished, bulkier. Window frames were simple circles, without crossbeams. Houses were also just ‘sung out without a plan, sometimes with lots of space between them, sometimes with four stacked in what would be an unsteady pile, had they been standing free.
But there was work to be done. With a lump in his throat, he headed for the first pub he saw, with only a red tree on its sign.