The man on the crate threw up his hands. “If someone is burning down Kongo houses, I think we need to discover the criminal more than we need to plant crops to keep the Keepers fat.”

Several people gasped. A lone voice whispered, “Rebel!”

“Get the noose,” a voice shouted. “Call the Guard!”

“Raise the gallows!” another voice agreed. “We’ll drag him out!”

The man on the crate squeaked out a defense, but his voice was lost in their resistance.

William drew my attention. “You stay here,” he said. He strode from the alley.

I nodded, certain a lynching was about to take place.

The crowd yanked the slender man from the crate. They had him, hoisted above their heads, when William arrived.

“Who’s there?” someone asked.

“It’s Crane,” another answered.

Their white-hot fervor dimmed considerably.

Silent, William walked to the middle of the crowd, a head taller than the tallest man.

“Crane, you have no business here.” I saw now, the belligerent voice belonged to a stout youth with medium-brown skin.

William pointed at the crowd’s slender captive. “Put down.”

“Move aside, Crane,” the stout youth demanded.

Instead of answering, William crossed his arms.

I saw the crowd. All but the stout leader wanted to comply. They exchanged looks. Then, as one, they returned the slender man to his feet and dispersed.

When the crowd had gone, the man adjusted his bandana. “Thank you, Crane. I don’t know what I would have done if you had not intervened.”

Beside the giant, I saw the man was older than I’d first guessed upon hearing him speak. His language was unusually clear for someone who should have undergone several Rebirths. The Loyalist workers in the crowd had been much younger, which explained their language, but what of him? He looked to be thirty, at least. Not a single misfire in all those years?

“Point Landing—tell me,” William demanded.

I strained closer, not wanting to miss a word of the man’s story.

“I don’t know much, just what a Point Landing brother relayed to me earlier,” he began. “I don’t know his name. He was injured when he got here. He asked to speak with Kha. So, I took him to the big house, where Kha was rumored to be.”

“And?”

“And he refused to go. He was burning with fever and injured. I could tell he wasn’t going to last long and I didn’t want to take him to Potoo, that old fool. So, I forced him to tell me his news.”

“What news?”

“That the Point Landing village is nearly gone. Burned to the ground in a fire. Many of the workers died. He didn’t know how the fire started, but he said it was not a normal fire. He wouldn’t say anything more. He just demanded to speak to Kha.”

I stepped from the alley. “What do you mean, it wasn’t a normal fire?”