They did not go very far before they met the crowd. The column of people began at the gates of Oxton and ran back for more than a quarter of a mile. There were thousands of people, with just as many voices filling the air, so loud and discordant that it hurt Oliver's ears.
Most of them had the look of travelers. Their clothes were thickly caked with dust and grime, and the packs on their shoulders looked heavy enough to worry a mule. The women had tied their skirts to their legs with lengths of cord or rope, or else had traded them out in favor of simple trousers or breeches.
Countless faces flashed past Oliver, too many for him to keep track of. They were like pebbles in a river. If he tried to focus on one, it was not long before the tide would suddenly come rushing in and carry it
