The old man stood on top of a big outcropping overlooking the waste ground. The city loomed high in the distance, but his squinting eye was not focussed on that but rather the wooden cart that rattled towards him, kicking up a high cloud of dreary dust. He gestured to the younger man who was lying flat on the rock basking in the sun.
“Look,” he muttered. “They’re dropping off a new crop.” He sat down cross-legged and watched philosophically as the cart drew to a halt, and its driver stood up and kicked a body out of the back of it.
The young man sat up and rubbed his eyes. “Looks like a rich girl. They don’t exile them often. Wonder what she did?”
The driver got back on the cart and turned it around. The two men watched as the dust cloud receded into the distance. Then the young man sprang to his feet and helped his companion up.
“Thanks, lad.”
“Assist always the teacher,” quoted the boy. “For we are all pupils.”
“Well remembered,” said the old man. “Although I’m not quite so infirm as that!” He chuckled.
The young man scrambled down the rock face like a lizard, as easily as if he was weightless. The old man watched. Not as fit as that either, he thought, and began making his way down the long way. The outcropping protruded out of the forest edge, and there was an old stone stairway cut into the rock. It had been there for almost his entire lifetime, as long as they had been living in this jungle.

“She hasn’t moved,” said the young man when his companion arrived. “Is she dead?”
“No sense dumping a dead woman out here,” said the old man. He began ambling towards the body.

Luna opened her eyes. The hot, hard earth beneath her sizzled in the sunlight. Water. She needed water. Her wrists and ankles were tied. She twisted sideways, trying to bring the rope round her wrists under her feet to get her hands in front of her, at the least. Whoever hit her, she was going to kill him.
“Vicious little bastard, needs a good kicking, slice his hands. Never make a dress like this again. Dress. Torture implement more like.” The object of her ire had shifted to Vo-Vakis. She would never have aquiesced to the order to attend the ball if he hadn’t taken her off-guard.
She became aware that she wasn’t alone. Two men were approaching. One was old, wearing a dirty cream-coloured tunic that had gold thread sewn in an intricate pattern on the sleeves. The other was a young man, wearing almost nothing at all beside a pair of shorts that were gathered above the knee. These were the same cream fabric, but much cleaner than the old man’s tunic. He was muscular and tall, and he carried a short wooden rod that curved like a tree branch.
They looked unlike any person she had seen in the city.
Now that she could see she quickly untied her hands and feet and got to her feet. She realised she was still wearing Vo-Vakis’ dress, although it had torn in a wide strip around the middle in the fall from the cart. It was more comfortable now. Go figure. She took up a defensive stance.
“Who are you?” she said. “Stay back!”
“Why are you the wrong colour?” said the young man. “Who are you?”
Luna stepped back. “You first. Where am I?”
“The wasteland of the soul,” said the old man. “The first step on the path to enlightenment.”
Oh, good. These were the religious exiles. The ones too crazy for Tond. She remembered that little of the history they had tried to teach her about. “You’re the Outsiders?” she said. “I thought you’d be more… savage.” She felt immediately absurd saying it out loud.
“Oh, it’s very convenient for the antitheistic intellectual class to dismiss us like that,” said the old man. “The fact is, you may come to find that in many aspects we are considerably more civilised than they would have you believe.” He had the precise diction and comfortable manner of a well-educated preacher who has spent a little too much time among the people. “Now, will you put your hands down and come with us back to the village?”

As they walked, the young man piped up again: “You didn’t answer me. What happened to you to make you look like that?”
“Nothing happened to me,” said Luna. “I come from… let’s say another country. One a long, long way away.”
The old man looked over his shoulder. He had produced a rough-hewn pipe from somewhere within his robe and was puffing away at it.
“They finally found one alive?” he said. “One of the people from the sky?” Luna glanced up. “We’re not credulous fools,” he said reproachfully. “The sorcerer has been bringing down skyships since I was a boy. It didn’t take long to puzzle it out.”
“How long ago were you a boy, granddad?” said the young man cheerfully.
“Quiet, you,” the old man grumbled. “Go scout ahead.”
Luna marvelled as the young man seemed to run straight up the trunk of a nearby tree with the ease of a jungle ape and perch on a branch. He leapt ahead, swinging from tree to tree and singing a little song to himself:
“The old man walks below, for his legs are tired,” he repeated as a sort of chorus.
“Your grandson?” asked Luna. The old man shook his head. “He’s an enthusiastic boy.” The old man nodded.
“He’s a little too enthusiastic if you ask me. We’ve had to separate him from the other young men.”
“Getting into trouble?”
“Of one kind or another, yes,” said the old man, glancing up at the other swinging from branch to branch. “So I’m stuck with him.”
“Oh,” said Luna. She decided it would be prudent not to press the matter any further. “Are we close to the village?”
The old man shrugged. In fact, they were about an hour and a half’s walk from first sight of the village of the Outcasts. A guard dressed in a brown habit and holding a short sword in his hand sent up a shout when they came into view. Luna would later learn that the priest and warrior class of the village was one and the same, and mostly a matter of personal choice day to day which one belonged to. She noted as they passed that the guards wore no scabbard or sword-belt, forcing them to carry their weapons in hand at all times.
“We will take you to the Cathedral,” said the old man as his companion scampered down from a nearby tree. “For your conversion.” He said it as matter-of-factly as if he was mentioning that the weather was expected to improve. Luna sensed that protesting would be a potentially fatally bad idea, and remained silent.
She sat quietly in the Cathedral of Truth, as the sign over the door proclaimed it to be (she had to have this read out to her by the old man, as she had paid little attention to letters during her attempted education by Pek-Tchat’s tutors). It was actually a squat, clay-brick building in the middle of the village, but markedly more impressive than any of the other structures. It smelled of river mud. The High Priest was out, so all there was was to wait.
“Listen,” said Luna to the old man, who was waiting with her. “I really have to get back into the city.” He snorted with laughter.
“They just exiled you – and you’re talking about getting back in?” he said. Luna nodded.
“They’re holding my woman captive,” she said. The old man made a noise, and she remembered suddenly that the people of Tond had exiled these people for being dangerous extremists.
“You’ll want to keep that kind of thing under your hat around here,” he muttered, and Luna saw him toying with a small silver charm on a string around his wrist. “Here comes the High Priest. I’d better go.”
Luna wanted to stop him, but didn’t as he pushed off from the arm of the bench and ambled out. The High Priest shot him a look as he passed which seemed to carry a volatile mix of sentiments. He was dressed in spotless white robes similar to the old man’s. As he came closer, Luna saw that he was middle-aged with a craggy face and narrow eyes. He looked like a man who took no shit, and was used to being given plenty.
He sat down opposite her and said: “When did you come down?”
Luna was surprised, so surprised she immediately said that it had been about two months. The High Priest nodded, then stood up. “Take her away,” he muttered. As he left, Luna went to follow-
And her way was blocked by two guards. Their swords crossed in front of her.
“You’re coming with us,” said one.
“To the Arena,” said the other. He was grinning.