The crowd began to move forward, pressing closer. A man shoved Castor, sending him careening into Ucho, who roughly pushed him away, sending him face first into the mud. Things were beginning to look quite ugly when Father stepped forward. The twinkle was gone from his eye—his face was set, hard and forbidding. Looking at him, Albert felt almost afraid, even though he wasn’t the one the old man was looking at. The mob stopped in their tracks, the chant fading ignominiously into an uneasy silence as Father kept walking forward, towards where the crowd was thickest.

‘Any man who raises his hand against my adviser raises his hand against me.’ He spoke quietly, but the clear voice seemed to carry almost as much as Ucho’s bellow had a moment ago. Father looked around at them, first at one person, then another. None of them met his eye.

‘So, which of you wishes to strike me first?’

A minute passed, then another, and still nobody said anything. Father nodded. ‘I see some sanity still prevails among you. If that be so, and if you truly do not wish to desecrate our laws and attack your Father and your Council, then remember where you are, where it is you stand. This is Sanctuary, and there is room here for all who have suffered like us, even if they have suffered differently. Because all men are brothers, united in strife, is that not what we say? But I look at you—all of you—and I do not see someone I would call my brother. I see a pack of wild animals, lost to sense or reason or law, running amok, intent on causing harm to themselves and everyone else. And if that is how you wish it to be, if that is how you would live and conduct yourselves, then no doubt many a Renegade would proudly proclaim you his brother. Do you understand?’

Murmurs ran through the crowd. One man, having apparently recharged his batteries in the last few moments, yelled out, ‘You can’t silence us!’

Father looked steadily at him, holding his eye till the man dropped his gaze. ‘Silence you, Biren? Perhaps you should speak with some of those whom you profess to hate, speak with them once before you decide to hate those who deserve your pity instead, and at the very least you would know that you know nothing about what it means to be silenced.’

The man kept looking at his feet, saying nothing. Finally, Father turned away from him. ‘Go home, all of you,’ he said. ‘Go to your work and your families, and let me hear no more talk of scum or hatred or anger of this nature again, or it is mine that you will reckon with.’

With many loud mutters and whispers, the crowd dispersed, slowly moving back, and out of sight down the path.