Reidar found himself in a square lined with benches, drawn by the sound of a voice that cut through the regular settlement noise.
Perhaps twenty people sat listening, most wearing squat leather caps or strips of colored cloth tied round their arms. All of them faced a tall man standing on an upturned crate.
He looked young, barely twenty, but there was nothing timid in his stance. His eyes burned with a faith that seemed to shine.
His words were… weird… to say the least. He was a kind of zealot.
A man leaning against a nearby shed noticed Reidar's curious stare. "Intense, isn't he?" The man said, spitting into the dust.
"Who is that?" Reidar asked, keeping his voice low.
"His name's Caleb," the man said, not taking his eyes off the preacher. "He used to be a decent kid until he found… religion."
Even from this distance, Caleb's voice carried clearly across the square.
