Dec 9

Brass Band

“Your numbers are down this week. We are falling behind. Get them back up by next week. Dismissed.”

There was an implied “or else” in that little speech. Peter sighed. He joined the brown shirts because it would have marked him out as odd if he hadn’t. All his classmates had joined. Their first task would be to worm out the secrets of those who hadn’t.

But he didn’t take pleasure in beating people or harassing folk whose only crime was to be a little bit different. Some had darker skins, or spoke another language. A few had lost limbs in the war or had other deformities. All had that little bit of difference that made them stand out from their fellows here in Vistayna.

People were leaving the city. He’d rather someone left than stayed to receive the attentions of his patrol.

“Don’t take it to heart. He knows our numbers are as good as anyone elses’s. He’s just trying to spur us to greater efforts. The great leader is due through here tomorrow. He wants to look good”

Nicolas patted him on the shoulder and went down the steps into the street. The rest of the patrol waited in formation. Somewhere a brass band was playing a march tune. Might be one of ours, Peter thought. Music acceptable to our masters. He strode to the front of the patrol.

“Orders sir?” asked Gisela. She was the best of his lieutenants. She’d learned he preferred a subtler approach than out and out thuggery.

“First we need to find that band and make sure they’re sticking to the approved tunes. Sounds to me like there’s some improvising going on there.”

“They could just be poor players,” Gisela offered with a small smile.

They marched. All afternoon they heard snatches of the music but they never came on the band. As they approached the city limits for the second time that afternoon, Peter called a halt.

“Your patrol ends here. Go home to eat and sleep. We’ll start again in the morning.”

“But sir, they’re only just over that hill there. Shouldn’t we push on?”

“You know we don’t have authority beyond the city gates. Gisela, Nicolas and I will go and investigate, in plain clothes.”

The patrol dispersed, muttering. The three who remained looked at each other.

“Are you ready for this?” asked Peter.

They crossed the street and dived into a space between a couple of housing blocks. These blocks were all slated for demolition. People lived in them still. Some were just squatters. Others had lived here for years.

They stashed their brown shirts behind the bins at the end of the alley. They rubbed dirt into their faces and over their shiny boots and clean trousers. Then they slipped out of the city, following the sound of the band.

“Likely to be a trap,” said Nicolas.

“True. Go back if you want. You too Gisela. Your choice.”

“We’re with you, Peter.”

They moved on towards the twin hills that flanked the road near the city gates. Behind the hills, the road crossed an open plain before heading out into the wilds, and coming at last to the border with Haerlion. The train tracks snaked away ahead of them running parallel to the edge of the road.

Still the band was nowhere in sight, but they could hear it loud and clear now that they were away from the noise of the city. They skirted the foot of one of the hills following riffs and snatches of music. It drew them into a secluded valley that bit into the hillside almost cleaving it in two. The steep slopes crowded in on them bringing the darkness earlier than in the broad streets of the city.

They came on an old amphitheatre. They walked into the centre and waited. The elusive band strolled out along one of the rows of benches carved out of the hillside. They put their instruments aside and sat down. Others followed them, filing into the benches and sitting. Soon all the seating was full. Still they filed in.

“You three down there. We know you’re brown shirts. Why are you here?”

The speaker was high on the hillside. As she climbed down towards the waiting threesome there was absolute silence. When she was near enough that Peter could speak without shouting, he said,

“Your band led us all over the city before coming here. You know why we are here. We have a duty to track illegal musicians. I doubt whether your band contains a single registered musician.”