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Shepherd’s eyes, then he continued marching. Shepherd’s gaze dropped downwards and he slid his hand from his pistol.
    A truck marked in the livery of the Praetor pulled into the street, its huge wheels carving fresh furrows in the frozen earth. Armour plating had been welded in place and a grille covered the windscreen in front. It stopped and the Watchmen climbed inside. The town seemed to exhale in relief when it turned and headed out towards the Watch station.
    Shepherd stared for a few moments longer, unease curdling in his gut. Years of living on the periphery of legitimacy had taught Shepherd to read people. He’d seen something unexpected in the Watchman’s eyes. Fear.
    The man had been afraid.

C HAPTER F OUR

Premeditated

    THEY SAT huddled around a tiny fire, the cold circling them like a pack of wolves. They silently prayed that the smoke curling upwards would be concealed by the mist and charcoal sky, and that the flickering coral flame would not be seen amidst the grey of the snow-covered forest. Jordi’s father, perched on a log and wrapped in a wool blanket, clutched a small device, which hummed in his hands. Jordi watched the survivors. Fifteen in all, including his mother. Each of them seemed to lean towards his father, as if the range of the device might be so finite that those scant additional inches might protect them from the Praetor’s scrutiny.
    Jordi knew the Peacekeepers would be searching for them. The Praetor now knew of their heresy: they had allowed a preacher into their village, and they had been persuaded by his words. In fact, from that first day, when the preacher arrived and began to tell his story, Jordi had been immediately entranced. There were those who spoke against the preacher, fear driving their objections, but the tall, quiet man had been calm and insistent. Slowly, the truth behind the Republic had become obvious and compelling—and the events that had led to the relinquishing of freedom in return for the ‘protection’ of the Magistratus had been unveiled.
    While he listened to the preacher’s words, Jordi had realised the reality: there had been no choice. Citizens embraced the Concessions or faced banishment beyond the Wall.
    As a young child, Jordi had been indoctrinated into a very different dogma. Schoolteachers from the Core came to Herse, to instruct the residents in the history of humanity—while Peacekeepers stood over the children, watching. As part of their curriculum, these teachers warned tersely that beyond the Wall lay a madness, one which corrupted the minds of men and had led to a war that almost destroyed humanity.
    But those had been lies.
    When the preacher first came to the village, they'd all understood the danger they put themselves in by even listening to what he had to say, were anyone ever to reveal their perfidy. But at the same time, they needed—yearned—to know what it could mean to be free .
    How the Praetor had discovered their betrayal, Jordi couldn’t say. But the preacher had been certain that discovery would come, and that they would need to run. And when the preacher didn’t come for them as he'd promised, the camp became rife with terrified speculation. Perhaps Ishmael had not reached him in time, or perhaps the preacher had already been murdered in his bed before the Peacekeepers got to the village. Some shouted that he had abandoned them. Nevertheless, the preacher’s instructions had been clear—if the Praetor ever sent Peacekeepers to the village, they should run and hide and wait for the preacher to come for them. They were to use the device to mask the signal emitted by their implants, and there were to stay close together. He would find them. They were his flock. Believers seeking freedom.
    Jordi’s father cradled the device in his hands like a newborn infant, treating it with equal parts reverence and fear. Jordi wondered whether the humming could be heard above the wind. Whether the Peacekeepers might even catch it